abraxaslogs | EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

Event #7 - The Sight

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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.

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"Yes," she nods, distracted, still a little lost in the memory she had no business knowing. "I'm fine." Physically, at least. She knows he must have seen something too, but what? There were so many things he could have witnessed, more horrible than most in the last few years. Those, of course, are the things she thinks are most likely, and the ache she'd felt seeing all those boys corraled and tortured still rests at the center of her chest.

She wants to wrap her arms around herself in a small, weak attempt at self-comfort, but she doesn't. The only perceptible reaction she has at all is the way her weight shifts into her heels, and the careful glance around the bar, like she's not quite sure her surroundings are real. These flashes, they happen so fast, and it's all so jarring and unsettling.

"How long do you think... this will keep happening?" She's sure this isn't his first rodeo of this strange trade of horrors.

He shakes his head. Good fucking question. "I don't know."

The barkeep behind the counter slides him his drink, utterly disinterested in the situation at hand. Between the amount of Summoned that filter in and out of this place, he supposes the man is used to it.

There is the smallest pause, as he continues to study her. "You were training with your father. On the wire."

It's a small offering, with no expectation that she will expand on the detail. He isn't here to pry. But as far as memories goes, maybe she'll find a quiet piece of her childhood not the worst thing to have spilled to someone who's effectively a stranger. He's more than aware he isn't the only one with secrets buried in his memories.

She leans up on her toes to reach the stool, which she slides onto with a sort of grace that does not fit the moment at all, but that she cannot keep from, because it's practically innate at this point. Something he, apparently, saw the beginnings of, somehow.

"Oh," she breathes softly and her eyes are glossy for a different reason now. "I wish I could say what I saw was... so peaceful." Because that time in her life was. Peaceful. Full of joy and laughter and love. Things that have long since felt so far away from her. She still holds those moments very close, but a part of her is unsure she is deserving of anything like it now. After everything she has done, been forced to do, to become in the wake of everything that had happened other.

A moment of hesitation, as he considers if lingering might trigger another effect. Admittedly, it's yet to happen twice.

He looks away after a second. Her words confirm what he suspected. Can't say he's too surprised. An uneasiness unfurls. Not peaceful could mean a lot of things, when it comes to him.

"Peace is a little absent sometimes," he replies. "Sorry for the unpleasantries."

The apology is dry, but in some ways, he means it, too. He's lived with his memories for a long time; they aren't images he'd inflict on others without warning. Maybe at some point, a more fortunate soul will receive a vision of him doing little more than petting his horse but so far that seems not to be the case.

His gaze returns to hers, stays there. He can't tell if it's the memories he gleaned of her as a little girl or if it's something else about her demeanour that stirs an edge of concern. He only knows that she can't possibly be as fine as she says. It's taken him a good handful of decades to get over his shit. (Those who know him best would argue over it remains debatable.) He doesn't expect her to shake off what she may have seen in a matter of minutes.

So what would normally be a blunt question becomes more of a quiet offer. "Do you want to tell me what you saw?"

Edited 2022-04-22 10:05 (UTC)

“Yes,” she agrees with a slight nod. “It has escaped me for quite some time now.” Her idea of a long time is probably not near his definition of it, but she’s still so young, with so many years still ahead of her, and perhaps length of time means nothing in the merit of suffering.

She shakes her head at his apologies. The Suli do not recognize them the way most people do. “It is no fault of yours, there is nothing for you to apologize for. We are all being unwitting surveyors of each other’s memories. I do not believe there is a way to stop it.” There have been mutterings about touch being the cause, but Inej is not convinced it is the only factor.

She frowns at that, unsure of how to answer. “Are you certain you wish to discuss it?” She cannot imagine he would want to, but there is no denying it is something that will play on her mind for a long time to come.

She's quiet for a long moment after that, contemplating whether she should indulge the act of making someone relive that sort of horror. “I’m not sure which of the boys I saw was you… you look quite different now.” That is the easy part, but the rest? Well. Her eyes grow glossy, but no tear sheds its way down her cheek. “Why did they torture you? Information? Or skill?” Both possibilities are terrifying if she's honest, and both smack too close to home for comfort for very distinctly different reasons.

Probably not. He's long accepted very little stops the Singularity. Like trying to stop a storm. It exists as it does; he just doesn't know why their connection in particular is so...unstable.

There's a noncommittal tilt to his mug, which functions as a half-shrug. Does he? Not quite. But he'd rather know what it was she did see than not—if they're looking at You slaughtered multiple men in the streets or That's a fucking happy childhood. The latter, apparently.

He hesitates. "It isn't that. Our world was overrun with monsters once. They created us to kill them. Most don't survive the process."

It almost sounds understandable, put that way. It isn't, really. But it was never as simple as being needlessly cruel, either. Just—what. Circumstances? Men acting out of fear and desperation as they often do? Something like that. Mages brought back batches of boys, but so did other Witchers, even after living through the Trials. It's a complicated thing, when the very existence of your own kind relies on lives stolen from children. An ugly cycle that died in flames by the end, anyhow.

"Monsters." She echoes the word, full of caution at best, doubt at worst. "And what... or who... were they considering monsters?" Because there are plenty that think of Grisha as such, and between her Saints, and her personal experiences with Jesper and Nina, she cannot be so quick to judge in such a way. But perhaps it was different there. Literal monsters. Creatures with no humanity to them.

She winces at the word 'created', or perhaps it was at the lack of survival. Both. "Created you... experiments that, mostly, killed children. For the greater good?" She isn't sure how to feel about that. Angry, absolutely. No child deserved to be put through tortures and forced into situations that may take their lives. The... creators he speaks of sound a lot like the sort of people Inej was planning to hunt down on The Wraith.

His eyebrow quirks. Them, sometimes, is what crosses his mind. Depends on who you ask. But the answer he gives is simpler. "Beasts that roam. Like the ones here."

Humanity is not the most ideal standard to measure by for him, anyway. Humanity made him and humanity has drowned more villages in blood than any pack of wyverns. Maybe there was a time he believed he was doing something by killing monsters. A sort of duty, in a world that's never wanted his kind in it. He's learned better since.

"It isn't done anymore." In the end, that's all he ever says about it. The truth is, he doesn't often talk about it not because the reality of it bothers him but because it bothers others—people in this sphere who didn't grow up hearing stories of Witchers. A sort of righteous anger or horror. He understands, he does, but he spent most of his life letting go. He hasn't been angry about it in a long while. It just is what it is. That's the place he prefers to be. And every time he's faced with the freshness of someone else's anger, it makes it harder to stay in that place.

"What about you? You performed with your family?"

She nods. That, at least, she can accept and swallow down a lot easier than the alternative. She is not fooled into complete acceptance that these children, borne of cruelty, were never seen as such but… she does not push the point further for now.

“How can you be certain?” She asks, pure curiosity. No one could have imagined the khergud before the Shu Han had released them onto the world.

She smiles softly at the question and nods. “Yes. Much larger families than what you no doubt saw. We Suli are a traveling people, in many caravans, generations across. We were circus performers. Everyone had different acts.”

"It burned." The answer comes bluntly, but quietly. A statement of fact. "All knowledge burned with it."

The last few of their kind, in other words. He doesn't say it, though maybe she can infer. It isn't important. In this world, he's the only of his kind, always will be, and perhaps that's for the best.

He considers her words for a moment. Were, had. He can recall the warmth in the memory and he can see the...it's hard to say. A longing? A loss?

Fuck. Maybe he's looking too closely, with feelings tangled up in his own.

"Not anymore?"

She breathes out a soft, "Oh," unsure of what else to say to that. The implication is big enough to see, but he seems... adjusted to it. Long-since gone. The far-off past that is not forgotten, but no longer a sharp knife between the ribs it may once have been. She longs for the parts of her past that still feel that way to be dulled. Never forgotten, but just... less important, no longer ruling so many parts of her. Once, she'd thought escaping Heleen and The Menagerie would have been enough to start that process, but the last few years with Kaz and the rest of the Crows has proven that she is not far enough from it for that to be the case.

There is something heavy in her first statement, a deeper story behind it that complicates it more than the words do. "I was separated from them three years ago. Just before I was pulled into this world, I had finally been reunited with my parents." Thanks to Kaz and Saints knew what he'd done to find them, or how he'd convinced them to come to Ketterdam.

Yeah. Oh. If she were to ask, he would only be able to tell her it's a matter of time. A hundred years go by and eventually even the deepest cuts scar over.

His gaze softens a hint. Separated. He does hear the story in that one word, but he doesn't ask yet.

"Hard to leave your family behind." He wants to say he was the same—on his way home and never made it—but now he's got memories of making it, of having gone home to Kaer Morhen, to his own brothers, after all. Of having found Ciri. Which makes the entire situation complicated. What counts now, as the period in which he was whisked away?

A beat. "I've seen you about as of late. You're new to Cadens?"

"It was not a choice," she says, her tone still soft, but this time there is a sharpness to it as well. Choice was something that had been stolen from her for so long, it was still hard to accept she had it back some days.

She nods at the question. "Relatively. I switched here from Solvunn during the Summit."

"No," he agrees. He adds nothing more. She's seen his memories, growing up. They say enough about his experience with choices.

Not a lot of that to go around, these days or otherwise. But they have choices to make still in between the ones they were denied. Sometimes that has to suffice, when there isn't anything else.

His brows draw together; a sense that he's beginning to put a few pieces into place. He considers the conversations he had during the Summit—a number of them, somehow, more than he'd normally seek on his own. Flowers braided in his hair and a layer of shimmer dust might've made him more approachable. Who knows? A decent opportunity to gather information, in any case.

After a few seconds, he hazards a guess. "You're Jesper's friend."

So many times during this strangeness that is going around, those memories of the morning she was stolen from her family’s caravan were handed to people, with no warning, no approval from her, and it has made both the thought of it, and the emotions attached to it, bubble so much closer to the surface again.

She won’t explain it to him, but there’s no doubt that something stirs in the back of her mind I’m the silence that falls between them for a drawn out moment.

She feels the words a little bit like an accusation for a brief second, but only for a second, and then she lets out a soft huff of amusement. “Saints, has he told everyone?” Better yet? Is there anyone in the city Jesper hasn’t met already? She nods, “I am Inej.”

"He mentioned a friend moving from Solvunn." His amusement matches hers—because yeah. He's met Jesper a few times and the boy almost never shuts up. Reminds him of someone else he knows.

Really, it's a wonder Jesper hasn't tripped into trouble yet, but Geralt managed to convince him to stay in the city, at least. For now. And he knows Sam's keeping an eye on Jesper.

He nods. "Geralt. We spoke. About the old gods."

Oliver, specifically. It was some time ago. Nice to put a face to the name, though.

"Of course," she shakes her head, the remnants of a fond smile on her lips. He's her family, through and through, but he is tiring to keep up with sometimes.

Her eyes light up with a little recognition. "Ah. Yes. Unfortunately, I never did get to speak to the woman you suggested I did. Though, Himeka knew plenty of things herself." She can't imagine how anyone could trust Thorne at all, and wonders if the people that reside there knew the things they'd done to the people they summoned in that first round. And if they did know, what did it say that they stayed?

"I'm still looking into it, though. The Old Gods. It's hard here, I think, because," she gestures vaguely, to indicate the city as a whole. They aren't as wrapped up in religion and superstition here, Solvunn had a plethora of information from the library to the locals, but she just hadn't been there long enough to gather as much as she might have liked.

"She's been in Solvunn some time." From the start. Himeka is his closest contact in Solvunn. Anything about the commune's people, its gods—he knows Himeka would've told him if something important cropped up, which suggests nothing of concern has occurred yet. At least, nothing of concern in her eyes.

Might be time to check in, all things considered.

He nods. The Free Cities aren't exactly building shrines in their deserts. Thorne hasn't much, from what he recalls. Jaskier had told him no names of the gods could be found in their library.

"It's unusual," he says. "Back home, even in places where the gods have little hold, they aren't altogether absent."

People still know: names, stories, where the temples are, whether they believe in it or not. But this feels as if the gods were deliberately erased or buried—or that the borders between these territories have held firm for so long that the details simply couldn't spread.

She nods her agreement. "Even the least religious people I know back home have some vague idea of the stories of the Ravkan Saints or the basic ideas of Djel are understood, even outside of Fjerda. It is very strange that there seems to be so little evidence of their existence anywhere across these nations."

Solvunn's people were still deeply religious, entrenched in rituals and superstitions alike, but even there, finding out actual information about the gods was like pulling teeth. "I'm still looking into it, but it's a pretty slow-moving side-project, at this point."

These are foreign terms, but the context behind them is plenty clear. Saints and gods. Nothing strange. Every world has them, to some degree.

"I haven't got much for you since we last spoke," he replies. Solvunn's one place he never set foot in. He's been in Thorne, however limited his access. He's beginning to know the Free Cities well. All anyone can tell him about Solvunn are vague rumblings of gods, shrines, and farming. And goats. Can't forget the fucking goats.

Cheese is good, though.

"Aquila and Libertas both appear to be looser run than Cadens. You might find more in the next city or two over." Not an especially long trip, but not quick, either—couple of weeks there and back by wagon, or more—but if she's intrigued enough, she might find it worth the effort.

She shrugs a little. Expected, given everything being the way that it is. "Not your fault they're so few and far between on answers." Even the libraries are hard to parse. She's been making her way through a lot of mind-numbing academic texts lately, but it's taxing and taking longer than she'd like.

"Do you know much about either of those cities?" She hasn't looked into them much, personally. But it could be an idea to keep in her back pocket, once she feels she's exhausted all her research options in Cadens itself.

"Mm." He rests his fingers on the edge of his mug. "Only Aquila. Haven't found reason to make my way south. The market's larger. More trade."

More people to talk to, perhaps. It isn't a topic he's been looking into in particular, so he can't say much else to it, if anything of value can be found. He went to Aquila with Jaskier, mostly to take his friend on a trip. The music and art is varied there even more so than Cadens. Reminds him of Oxenfurt. Brighter, though. Hell of a lot bigger.

He'd enjoyed it. It isn't suited for him, but when is any city? He's long used to moving from place to place without belonging to any. In truth, it's among the Summoned where he feels as though he can most settle. They are not all his own solely by virtue of being dragged to the same world, but he's grown close with a handful now.

"What are you hoping to find?"

She nods a little and makes small mental notes about that as well. Perhaps, she could talk Jesper into tagging along with her to one of the other cities in this territory. Do some exploring for a bit somewhere else.

"I don't know... originally, I was just curious about it. My faith is important to me, and I wanted to know what sort of beliefs they hold in this world. But what I found in Solvunn made me think maybe there's more to it." Maybe it's nothing, and she's wasting her time trying to dive deeper into it, but it had been the only thing giving her a sense of direction for months, and now she's too invested to simply give up the search.

She props her chin in her hand, considering it all again. "Everything seemed to point to the idea that Singularity came before the Gods, though. It makes me wonder if the Gods were not of this world originally, like us."

He lifts his hand in a small gesture—not entirely dismissive, more noncommittal. A sense that this is a topic he's spoken of before, and neither cares to have his thoughts changed nor change anyone else's. "Folk will call anything a god given half the chance. If it's rooted in truth, I doubt the truth is anything grand."

If the Singularity is a monolith as he thinks, then creatures and entities must've crawled out of it at some point, long ago. He's not certain they were particularly like the Summoned are now. It could easily be some monster, a demon, a creature that people could not understand and began to tell tales of until it grew and grew to become an entire people's faith. Maybe they believe the Singularity is a god itself. Who knows? Faith is faith. It's not a concept he holds for himself, but he knows people who do—was taught by a priestess for part of his childhood—and if it brings them some comfort, who is he to dissuade them? But there's a difference between praying at a temple for guidance and believing in sacrifices and blood spilled. (In abandoning your child because Destiny claimed it had to be done.) He's walked through too many villages who subscribe to the latter, when their god is little more than a monster lurking.

He supposes, when a beast will claw away your children no matter what, it feels less painful to believe it part of some greater plan. Where Solvunn is concerned, he'd prefer if it were merely a matter of harmless shrines and rituals. But it's difficult to say one way or another.

"Perhaps," but she will keep an open mind to whatever possibility might decide to present itself during her personal searches.

There weren't as many myths and legends of beasts as they have here, which seem to exist in such a rampant way in other worlds as well. Mostly, it was the Grisha that people feared like that, labeled evil, witch, monster, demon, or soldier. Sure, there was Rusalye the sea whip, and Sankt Juris slayed a dragon, but overall they were rare if seen at all.

"If there's a truth in it, I'll find it." She's persistent if nothing else.

wrapping!

gynvael - 2022-05-27 20:05 (UTC) - Expand

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EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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