EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

[abraxasmods]

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

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The night before APRIL 18, your dreams are disrupted by a vivid image of the same eclipse that occurred last month. The black sun seems to be an endless void in the sky, growing ever darker - until it suddenly opens into an eye that stares straight at you.

When you wake up, much of your night seems a blur except for the vivid dream of that eye. Whether you find it unsettling or try to ignore it, the image is something you cannot get out of your mind. If you ask, you will discover that none of the locals of your faction saw another eclipse. Speak with your fellow Summoned, however, and you may learn that while there was no eclipse that formed over the world, you were not the only one who had this dream.

Of course, dreams don't need to mean anything. You can't feel or see any immediate effects, and nearly everyone around you is going about their day as usual. Maybe you should do the same.

The Awakening

It might happen that very morning or a day or two later. You could be discussing the dream with a fellow Summoned or perhaps you simply brush shoulders with them as you walk by. Whatever it is, as soon as you make brief physical contact, one of you is struck with a sharp pain in your temple that grows into a terrible headache. It's disorienting and painful as the world around you shifts to someplace you may or may not recognize. Like an old film reel, you watch the events of the past play out before you: the past of the other Summmoned. It might be something they would rather hide, a moment of failure or despair, or something they are immensely proud of and brings them great joy - or even a jumble of several images over the course of a person's life. But you see it as if it were real and right in front of you all the same. When you come to, you'll likely find yourself on the ground or bent over, possibly with one or more people around you to see if you're okay. It'll take you a bit to gather your bearings, and the subsequent pounding in your head could last from minutes to hours.

Or, maybe you aren't the one who receives the vision. Instead, as you watch, another Summoned might grasp their head and crumble in front of you. They may go silent or groan in pain. They'll be impossible to shake out of their stupor until it's over. If you ask what happened, they may be inclined to tell you the truth - that you, you were what happened to them.

Or, if your Arcana signs happen to line up in a specific way, you'll see each other in the shared memory itself. You may also find that for certain Summoned, you can help soothe the effects, calm their emotions, or help draw them out of the memory before it consumes them for too long. It's not entirely clear what determines which effect, but one thing is for certain - within each memory, every Summoned as they appear in the past seems to wear the mark of their Arcana somewhere on their person.

For some, they might experience this only once. For others, they might experience it multiple times: with the same person, with several other Summoned, or with a different memory each time. Over the next 7 days, you'll find the Summoned around you are all receiving a glimpse into each other's past, as if the Singularity has awoken an eye within each of you.

Flee for the safety of the Horizon if you want, but you'll find that in there, it's much the same. In fact, inside the Horizon, the other Summoned don't even need to be anywhere near you - just existing in the Horizon space itself together will be enough to possibly set off a headache-inducing vision.

The Factions

What has occurred between the Summoned will not go unnoticed within the factions. While it's difficult to say how faction officials have picked up what's happening, it'll be obvious they do know.

In THORNE, characters will be asked to remain in the castle walls until further notice. Characters will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds, not even to go into the surrounding city, and anyone who is already outside will be requested to not leave again as soon as they return. If asked, they will be told it's for their own safety, given the Singularity is behaving unpredictably and the Summoned have a unique connection to it. Soothing potions and healers are on hand to offer assistance, if anyone is particularly suffering from ill effects.

In the FREE CITIES, characters will find the army by the outposts show more activity than usual. A higher number of guards will patrol the streets throughout the event, particularly in areas frequented by the Summoned. Anyone who publicly and visibly experiences the effects of the memory share (pain, doubling over, etc.) will be offered assistance by the guards. They are generally there to help, but they are also there to maintain order and ensure anyone behaving erratically due to this incident is properly contained. This might include confinement for a day or two if anyone is especially posing a risk, but no one will be punished except in the most extreme cases, as the locals are aware this is not within the control of the Summoned.

In SOLVUNN, the locals will be watching what's happening with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. Host families and neighbors will be on hand to help with charms meant to offer protection, as well as general care and assistance (soup, blankets, and so on) if your character seems to be especially under the weather or afflicted by the event. Towards the end of the event, more elders and mages will be out and about to check up on the Summoned to make sure they're doing okay. If asked, the mages will say they aren't sure what's going on, but that they are currently divining with the gods and hope to have a definitive answer soon in the upcoming days.

None of the factions appear to be doing much more than keep a watchful eye on the situation - but as the week comes to a close, officials will start making a decision as to what they want to do and how to handle the Summoned who have demonstrated this unforeseen connection to the Singularity.

Comments

Dreamwalk | Meteion's report | for Fandaniel.

[lackingtalent]

[Reference.]


[There is a chill in the air. The whistling of the wind, a sky which is black fading to blue, with clouds far, far below. There are three people at Hythlodaeus' side. One woman, attired in a cloak of the purest while. One man, in a cloak of the deepest black. And one other, one that appears entirely alien. A woman, most certainly. But one less than half of their size, bearing scales and horns.

All, including Hythlodaeus, stare onward, at a man in a dark cloak as he gathers himself upon the floor of this platform, clutching his right arm close as if injured. The wind's whistle is loud. Yet his words rise above them. His tone is broken, weak- it appears he is most severely winded. Yet the determination, the resolve, of his speech transcends even the elements and his physical injury.]

Meteion... I'm so sorry. Would that I could have listened to your report in full...

[Meteion?
A girl is on the end of the platform. She bears the lower half of a bird, yet the rest of her is human. Save the wings on her head, of course. She is clad in different fashion to everyone else in attendance. A cloak, blue, the same colour as her hair and her feathers, lovingly rendered and accented with a large broach.

She gazes, expressionlessly, toward the stricken man as he lurches forward.]

Reflected upon its meaning and conveyed it to others- that they might reconsider their chosen course... But I have failed, and that wish will never be realized. However...

[She says nothing. She merely waits.]

Ere our fates become the province of others, I bid you tell me... just one thing. Was there happiness... in those distant stars? Was there a reason for living?

[endcaller]

[Fandaniel recognizes the scene playing out before him. It has never been this vivid but he's seen parts of it before while tossing and turning his bed when he was still mortal.

He ignores most of the robed figures, walking instead towards the haunted man with the large, sad eyes.]

Of all the faces I've seen in those dreadful dreams I've always hated yours most of all.

[The man doesn't look at him or respond to his presence. Nobody in his dreams ever responds... Fandaniel wonders if he is dreaming now. Is this a dream? A memory? His own memory or someone else's? Maybe that doesn't matter.

His hateful gaze drifts from Hermes to the feathered girl and lingers there, drinking in the color of her jade feathers. Somehow, he expects them to turn inky black, the color between the stars, the color of nothingness, the color of his own madness.

But she simply stands there, staring.

Fandaniel snarls and wheels on Hermes, one gloved hand snaking out to hook a finger at the desperate looking man.]

Take back your fool questions! Take them back now you sad, miserable excuse of a creature!

[Maybe, maybe if the question isn't asked then Fandaniel can return to a reality where he lives without pain. Maybe he can learn what happiness is if he isn't weighted down by an anguished need for answers.

He advances towards Hermes, violence on his mind, but the cloaked figure suddenly drifts away like summer dust and Fandaniel touches only air.

As the vision fades around him he finds himself back in the observatory at the top of his Horizon, the Asteroscope. Something within him wants to howl in despair but he only has the energy to slump back against the console behind him. Slowly, he slumps to the floor, his anger sliding away with the return of conscious awareness.

He realizes he has a piercing headache ringing between his ears.]

adding a part 2 to the memory after this tag! (if thats ok)

[lackingtalent]

Do not.

[The realization of all that was going on- that moments from individual's lives were free for any and all to uncover- was something that had come to Hythlodaeus rather late on. For as it had happened, he had been indulging in a recent hobby of playing the tourist in all manner of horizons. He had not seen the reports on what was occurring. Not had any indication that anything untoward was going on at all.

Yet he found himself pulled from them. He had found himself within an area not unlike his own, yet utterly blank. ...And then, the past had played within it. Certain elements. Snippets here and there- some things so far removed from his own experiences, he had questioned whether they were his at all.

But then there was this- a trying situation most certainly, and something he would not recall of his own volition. And there was Fandaniel. A trying man, and likewise, someone he would not invite to view his memories of his own volition.

To Fandaniel, he should stand separate from the version of himself within the vision. For in the horizon, his form is that of a shade- faceless, the darkness he is formed of vaguely luminous, utterly and entirely anonymous. Yet his voice should serve well enough as an indication as to his identity.

He has barely outstretched his hand, barely given his warning, when the scene seems to shift. The bracing wind, the chill within the girl's eyes, the heavy breathing of all around them seems to just stop. All figures are frozen solid as if for the faintest moment, and...

They disappear. Like a morning fog.
He finds himself in surroundings unfamiliar, and he knows he should leave. But then the last figure- Fandaniel- seems to half-collapse, half slam his back against some machine he does not know and does not understand, and hangs his head.

Despite himself, he approaches.]

I have done you harm. For that, I apologize. It was most inadvertent.

[A pause, and...]

Do you understand my words?

Go ahead! (let me know if I need to change anything)

[endcaller]

[Fandaniel remains slumped, eyes downcast beneath his hood as the voice coos above him in familiar, melodic tones.]

Oh, I understand.

[Without looking up, he waves a dismissive hand. Even if he didn't possess the Echo he'd know the language of the Ancients, but he refuses to speak it himself.]

I don't know how you wandered into my domain uninvited but I rather wish you hadn't.

[Now, Fandaniel finally lifts his gaze upwards towards the cowled head swaying in the shadows high above him.

He stands, darkness engulfs him and the figure that emerges is one of a loudly dressed Elezen man in skull-like mask.

If Hythlodaeus is going to wear a preferred form, he will too.]

I wasn't prepared to receive you and now I feel like a terrible host!

Thank! (and no need for revisions! your tags are perf as always)

[lackingtalent]

Then I shall apologize once more for surprising you. Coming here was not my intent... and in all humility, I'll confess I know not how it happened.

[There is a pattern, he is finding, in the horizon. That whoever it seemed he happened upon (save for Emet-Selch) seemed to be of utterly minuscule size. A quirk of the sundering and evolution that has not been explained to him most certainly, but hardly a quirk that needs illuminating. To him, it is what it is and little more.

As is the case with Fandaniel's transformation. Not into the creature that stood guard at Elpis' uppermost viewing platform that day. Not the entity that called to mind the air and the sky. The form Fandaniel elects is one wrapped within brightly colored tailorings- trappings of the earth and those thereupon. Each intricately wrought design individually, a thing of great beauty. Yet altogether, almost grotesque.

This creature is larger than the skin previously worn. Yet still, it is inordinately small by comparison to himself. Yet size is never a reliable indicator of risk. Therefore, he is wary. If not of the man himself, than of his surroundings.

And as he looks around...]

I'll also admit I've not seen anything alike your machina.

[Perhaps a small lie.
All of what surrounds them is reminiscent, perhaps, of Kairos with regard to its almost brutalist design. Heavy-looking, of unusual shape and straight lines which veered as far away from decorative as possible. Each section, from the largest mechanism down to the smallest bolt is designed sturdily, and designed well. Forgoing all decorative aspects to display its own beauty of being.

Yet compared to Kairos...
This- all of this- is leaps and bounds ahead of even that. And while his eye is trained (subconsciously. Even when he least wanted to) to pinpoint flaw, to pick apart the tiniest mistake...

He is struggling to determine any.]

In fact-

[His voice trails away to nothing. For their surroundings have changed once more. The machinery, as seemingly eternally as it spread around them, is gone in all but an instant. There is a sudden chill, and the air is not tainted with the distant smell of oil or grease.

The air is crisp. Hythlodaeus feels his robes shift, a sudden gust of air disordering the folds of them.

They are on the viewing platform once more.
The figures stand before them, staring at the girl.

She moves from the platform.
Her face is smooth, expressionless. As much a mask as any of theirs.]

We conducted our search as per your instructions. We scoured historical records. Communed with the spirits of the deceased. Heard the final testaments of the dying. Welcomed their shadowed hearts into our own.

[She steps forward, walking, with a short stride, to the man Fandaniel had previously berated.]

One race had striven to create a world bereft of animosity. They renounced relationships to avoid interpersonal strife, and in so doing brought about societal collapse.

[Should Fandaniel look at Hermes at that moment, he would see the misery all but ingrained upon his face deepen. Should that even be possible. Yet if he did not, he would be forgiven. For the girl herself is changing. Darkness seems to move upward around her body, her feathers growing all the darker.

She continues.]

One race had renounced war and devoted itself to the enrichment of its people. They were conquered. Though they destroyed the enemy in reprisal, they could not regain their former glory.

[The mage- a tall man, one standing resolute, striking actually (for this was Hythlodaeus' account of things) stands and stares. His face gives away nothing. For it, like the red mask secured to his robe that marks the third seat, is unflinching. ...Until that statement. His brows, heavy-set suddenly tighten, and he bares the glint of his teeth before remembering himself and regaining composure.]

One race had concluded that finite time was the root of all woes. Aspiring to shatter its shackles, they went in search of infinity.

[The girl has not even blinked thusfar.]

They discovered nothing is infinite and that neither time or death can be cheated. Disillusioned, they gave up on the future- and themselves.

[The figure that Fandaniel likely could identify as Hythlodaeus- at least back then- looks away. Yet more importantly, the girl is but a single step from Hermes. She does not slow.]

One race had discarded all things that gave rise to sorrow, hoping to have only joy. They found joy lost its savor in the absence of sorrow, and lost their will to live.

[The woman seems striken. Tears appear to well in her eyes, yet none fall. Yet the girl, again. Her voice has changed. It has become louder. Bolder. Angered. Scornful. ]

Though worlds apart, these peoples shared a belief. The belief that they had tried their best.

[Something new happens. In Hythlodaeus' memory, the girl had stopped just shy of Hermes. Yet now, she walks right through him. His form trembles, and then it is extinguished. Similarly, each and every one of the figures shudder, and fragment- all traces of them blown from the platform alike dust.

She is standing immediately before Fandaniel.
And she raises her head to him, as if she acknowledges him.]

That they had tried to fulfill their potential, with every step and success.

[The darkness swirls around her, all but engulfing her.]

In the course of which they learned the truth. That they would never be free of fear and sorrow, anger and despair- of loneliness- so long as they yet lived. Even now their souls cry out for oblivion. And to this song of anguish, I lend my voice. We lend our voice!

[The darkness clears. The girl is stained black. Her skin a monochrome grey. Her hair, her feathers, raven. The light does not even play off it. Her clothes, so lovingly created, in such vibrant color- stained irrevocably black.

Her face is the picture of conviction.]

O beloved mankind, shimmering jewels of beautiful Eitherys... Rejoice, for we shall free you from the cruel yoke of existence. There is no need to struggle in vain, for in nihility awaits salvation. You will know peace and serenity...

And it will be beautiful.

So sorry for the delay, holy shit

[endcaller]

[Fandaniel watches the world shift again around him, folding itself back into the memory that, to him, is at once distant and familiar.

He watches the girl speak, echoing sentiments he's felt in his dreams, has heard from Emperor Xande, has seen from the Hyperstellar Downconverter: All roads of civilization end in collapse.

Truly, he thinks to himself, consciousness is the greatest enemy of mankind, plaguing them with a constant anxiety about their own existence that will inevitably lead to ruin.

The thought lingers and is only interrupted when the girl seems to fix her attention upon him, as if he were as real to her as the phantoms making up the memory. As she advances he stiffens and backs away.]

Why are you plaguing me with these dark words?

Have I not heard it all enough already?

Leave me be!

[Fandaniel throws a hand outward, intending to knock the girl away from him with a conjured fireball.

In the Horizon his body starts to twitch as black shadows erupt from his form and surge around the room. With a low hum his Glyph flashes and sets itself against his face, pulsing in its attempt to control the dark power rushing through the Ascian, who doesn't seem to be aware that any of this is happening.]