abraxaslogs | EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

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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Last thing Kell wanted, was to give his brother more nightmares. It helps little that he had no control over what happened, and he couldn't take it back. No matter how much he'd want to.

Singularity.

He might not have been the best steward of the life they shared. Not even when he had more than one life at stake to take care of. But to entrust his brother to some unknowable, impersonal force? No. Kell couldn't feel fine with it. He wouldn't trust it if it were the most benevolent spirit.

"Can't say I'm not jealous. I'd rather prefer to have you back."

then tied to a force I don't trust nor understand. Was he really that better? What he did, he did out of desperation, but out of love too. He has never given his brother choice, but neither did this Singularity force. But he'd rather see Rhy mad at him a million times, then dead. If there ever has been one thing more certain to Kell than everything else, it was that he would do everything for his brother. Everything.

"I just want you to be safe."

Rhy stares at him, uncertain. Kell can't possibly mean that. If he does, it's because he's afraid of all the unknowns in this world. It's because he has come to the same conclusion Rhy has, knowing that he no longer has an anchor in his own world. The understanding settling into the pit of his stomach like a boulder dragging him into the sea: that he cannot go home.

"Yes, well-- I'm glad," Rhy lies brusquely, suddenly moving to get up off the bed and away from Kell. Somehow, the headache gets worse, though, and he stumbles slightly on his way to the drinks table by the window. Rhy's jaw clenches, and he squints against the throbbing in his temples, reaching for the brandy because it's the only way he knows to make himself feel better.

"You can live your life without constantly being worried about breaking me. It was getting on my nerves just as it was getting on yours, even if you'd pretend otherwise now that you don't feel it anymore. You know this is better. The Singularity's given us an exit to an inescapable situation."

Kell couldn't give a rat's ass about uncertainty. Or this world. Or his own. Alright, that's a lie. After his seething fury has subsided, he has to admit he cares about his home. Guilt and hurt might have won in him for a short while, but he wouldn't have fought the Danes with such determination if he didn't care about his city, his world, his home. Their home. It wasn't only about his brother, it was about everything.

He might have had a moment of weakness when he thought, feared, that all is lost. That maybe they truly are dead to their world, but the longer he settled here, the more it became clear to him that nothing is really over until they're both dead. And they're not.

So it hits him twice as hard when Rhy suddenly moves away from him, gets off the bed and goes straight for the booze. Not only because the words hurt, but because he did not see it coming.

"Better?!!" Kell doesn't even try to keep his voice low. "How can you call this better?! We don't know what this thing is! We don't know what it does! What it might want from you!" He's up on his feet by the end of the second sentence. "You might have been fed up with me, but this is no solution at all! If you think I'll be fine with some unknown entity dangling you on a string for whatever end it might wish to have, just so I don't have to worry about you anymore, then you are very wrong, brother! I think we can both tolerate a little discomfort."

Kell knows he's being unfair and that he's exaggerating, but he's also very, very angry.

Kell's words strike a chord Rhy refuses to acknowledge; he stares intently down at his own hands as he pours himself a cup of brandy. Then, after a moment's thought, one more for Kell.

Where his brother's voice has risen, incredulous and angry, Rhy's remains at a reasonable pitch. He walks back over to Kell when he jumps to his feet and hands over the glass before retreating to lean against the side of his writing desk.

"Whether or not you think it's better, it's what we have to deal with. The Singularity is the heart of magic in this world. As far as I'm aware, it's no more an entity that the Isle. You may think magic is beyond my scope, brother, but despite everything, I can read. I've been here longer than you have. I'm the one attached to the damn thing. Do not tell me what kind of discomfort 'we both' can tolerate. You're being an ass."

There are moments when Rhy sounds dangerously similar to his father. There was a time when Kell would say, and even think, their father. He can't bring himself to do it now. It's enough to kick some sense into him, though.

"I do not think it is beyond your..." Kell starts to protest, takes one long sip from the glass, looks at it as if he's only noticed that he's holding it, and just growls in frustration. This is impossible. "Alright. You're right."

Chilling, how the mere suggestion that maybe, just maybe, his brother doesn't really need him any more is able to send him into a spiral of rage. Isn't it what he wanted? To be free to do what he wants. Not be chained to anything or anyone? No duties, obligations. Nothing he does not wish himself.

And yet, when he's finally got it, he throws a tantrum.

"You're doing well enough on your own, without my babysitting."

Saints, how it hurts to say this.

Rhy's jaw tenses, the corners of his mouth tightening as the anger rises in his throat; he bites it back, knuckles standing out where he grips the glass too hard. It flashes in his eyes: outrage, and just as much hurt.

Kell should have seen how well he was doing curled up on the floor in this very room, in the shattered wreckage of the glass and bottle he'd thrown against the door. When he'd stood barefoot in Kylo's study, begging not to be alone.

Kell is not the one left scrambling to fill the void. And still, Rhy is willing to set him free. Because feeling like this and being able to cling to life somehow regardless is still better than burdening his brother for the rest of his days.

"Kell," he warns, each syllable sharp. "Shut up."

They've received a gift, and it is for Kell. Not for Rhy. The least he could do is accept it gracefully.

Kell wants to protest, to say something, but there's a glint in his brother's eyes that makes his pause, forces him to remain silent. He sinks down back on the bed, shoulders sagging, half-empty glass almost forgotten in his hand.

It feels so unfair. What he is supposed to do? He didn't mean to imply that it's been all sunshine and roses for his brother. They both lost their ground coming here. And to add to that, Rhy is tethered to this Singularity, source of magic or whatever it is. Still, he was able to find people here. Not one, but two lovers.

Kell? He has no one but him. No place he can even pretend he fits in. And now he really doesn't know what his brother wants from him. It's wrong when he says he believes they still need each other, it's wrong when says that Rhy is doing well on his own. It seems everything he says or does is wrong. What he is supposed to do? Apologize for trying? He could. Would it help? How he's supposed to know...

Rhy looks away, finishing the rest of his cup in one swallow, lips twisting at the strong taste. The glass clinks onto the desk.

"You are neither my babysitter nor my guard dog. I know you think my life is your duty, but it isn't. Least of all here." The words sound harsh, but he doesn't mean them that way. Rhy grips the edge of the table, and his voice catches, almost breaking. "I never want you to be in that situation again. I don't want to be used to hurt you anymore."

The greatest change, the most shocking, the one that still surprises him and makes him pause, remains how people treat him in Thorne. Or rather, what is missing from his usual experience. The awe and the fear. People turning away, so they don't have to look at him, avoiding even the sight of his black eye. Here, they don't. Here his eye is a curiosity, a conversation starter. Not a brand.

Rhy always looked directly at him. He was one of the two people that always did.

"Your safety was my duty." Kell starts, staring at his glass. He could use a drink, but just can't make himself to raise the glass. "But it's not out of sense of duty that I wanted to protect you. That I still do. To the best of my ability. With everything I have. It's not because of duty. It's because it was you."

"You were the only one that looked straight at me." His voice breaks, but Kell is determined to push through this even if it earns him a second black eye again. Because it's important. "And saw me. Not Antari, not blessed or cursed by magic. Not a weapon. Me." Rhy and Tieren, no one else. "How can I not want to protect you?"

It hurts to watch Kell struggle like this, but Rhy just wants him to understand. He's not trying to be cruel. But he refuses to be a hobbling chain around Kell's ankle again, even if Kell thinks it's worth it -- it's not.

Rhy sighs, stepping back toward the bed to stand in front of his brother. One hand touches Kell's shoulder, then slides up to the back of Kell's neck, tipping him gently forward so Kell's forehead rests on his chest. His fingers thread through the messy red hair, smoothing it down.

"I never said you shouldn't want to protect me, you goose. I know you're getting used to how it feels, but you shouldn't have tied yourself to me in the first place. It's just gone back to the way things were before, but this time, you do not have to answer to anyone else."

Does Kell feel it too? Like something is missing? Rhy assumed it was different for Kell because Kell never lost anything; he'd only shared his life with Rhy, let him borrow it, but he hadn't lost it like Rhy had. (Then again, considering the memory he'd just seen--)

Perhaps it really is just... a lot to get used to.

"It wasn't was a bit difficult not to. I didn't have a better idea at that moment."

Not matter how lightly he might put it, saints only know, how many times Kell almost crumbled under the crushing weight of guilt for what he had done. It certainly wasn't right. It was a rash, impulsive, and desperate decision, but he is also almost completely sure that he would have done it again if put in the same situation. Letting his brother die was never an option.

Kell doesn't know if Rhy does it on purpose, but it feels good to hear his heartbeat. Strong and steady. Even if it's sustained by the Singularity, at least it's there. What Rhy wouldn't be able to tell from his dream, and it's better that he doesn't, is that the greatest horror wasn't just the loss of magic. Not the pain, nor the helplessness. It was hearing Rhy's heart gradually slow down. For Kell, it felt like it was his own heart that was stopping. And he couldn't do anything about it.

"I wish it was just back to as things were," he groans. "Maybe then it wouldn't feel as if I've lost a limb."

That's no comparison to loosing a life, but it still sucks, and he hates it. Nothing is back as it was. Nor it can be. Not after what they both went through.

"I know."

He knows Kell would never have chosen anything else, just as he knows that -- had he been asked in that moment -- he didn't want to die either. Rhy isn't blaming him for it. Funny, how they'd been at each other's throats over feeling every little thing too much, too often, but now they both feel the loss in a way that clearly hurts Kell more than Rhy had expected it to.

"You haven't lost anything, Kell. I'm right here."

Rhy knows it isn't quite true; the connection is gone, after all. But for Kell, that is as it should be. He will get used to it. Surely, it will be easier than it had been for Rhy, especially since he's not alone.

Maybe it is coincidence. Maybe thinking about it triggers something. Rhy doesn't mean to show him--

But he does.

(( cw: nsfw implied ))

The memory doesn't transfer thoughts or even feelings, not exactly, but there is a general impression. It is one of dullness, of a world half-leeched of color and life. Kell won't know the reasons from the snippets he sees, but the Singularity's magic has faded, and its hunger has left Rhy similarly drained. He is listless and irritable. He drinks as much as usual, and eats less. He wanders the castle late at night.

That is when he finds Kylo and Ronan the first time, together in the bath. When he is asked to join, and he feels, shockingly, seen. The images are brief flashes, not lingering on the act itself, but rather on the sensation of being fulfilled when everything had felt so empty. Ronan is bright in Rhy's eyes. Brighter still, when the scene shifts and they are alone in bed now, Ronan above him, and the air hums with magic and energy. Rhy doesn't just look happy. He looks better.

Touch triggered it the first time. There's no reason why it wouldn't trigger now, when their contact is more intentional. Kell is still surprised, but the skull-splitting migraine is easily recognizable at this point. He had enough occurrences of the same over the span of this day to at least know what is happening.

And what is happening is a measure of symmetry in revealing what the other doesn't really want to show. In his case, it was a memory Kell would prefer to both forget and never speak about ever again. It's pretty obvious that he doesn't want to relive his trauma, but even more he didn't want his brother to witness it.

Not that whatever causing those sudden flashes - probably Singularity. It must be Singularity. What else so many Summoned but none of the locals? Of course, he doesn't really know if no locals were affected. He just hasn't seen one, so assumed they weren't. - seems to feel the need to ask for its victim's permission.

It doesn't matter. It still feels like an intrusion. He still feels he should look away. The scene before him, scenes actually, are too intimate. It's just not right. But he can't. He just can't stop watching all the scenes as they unfold.

Kell knows what the Thorne mages tell. That Singularity is ailing. It's one thing to just know this, and a completely different one to feel it so viscerally. Painful to watch how much it affects his brother. He should be happy then seeing that Ronan, his closeness - what a laughable understatement - help. How much it helps. He is. He still doesn't trust neither Ronan nor the other man, Kylo. But he is happy. Just not only that. He'd rather not feel this at all, but can't help feel... Well, there's only one way to describe what he feels, and it's simple: jealous. Not that he has any right to, never had. Right or not, he always did. He just hopes it's not painted all over his face, when he's finally able to break the trance, and stop looking. It's a relief he doesn't have to watch longer.

When he comes to, he'll find Rhy sitting beside him now, one hand on his knee. He leans down, watching Kell's face, and when Kell seems to register him again, Rhy reaches up to rub his back instead. The side effects, especially immediately after, are awful. Not as awful as not knowing what Kell saw.

"Kell? You all right? Try not to throw up on the floor."

The room is spinning, and he does feel sick, but it's the room, their room, so it's over. His vision is still blurry for a while though. His voice still hoarser when manages to speaks up finally.

"I'll try."

He coughs, and when the room sways again, grabs the edge of the bed to steady himself, but it's the hand on his back that helps most. The headache is a dull ache, then an echo, then gone completely. He looks up, then immediately looks away.

"I think I've seen Singularity and... ".

Sanct! How do you even say it?! He's not prudish, that would be stupid. And impossible growing up with Rhy. Even more impossible after the time when they shared all of their feelings for such long as they did. It's not that. It's the intrusion that feels ... well, wrong. Eloquence, at it's finest, but he can't find a better word for it.

"I'm sorry."

And he criticized Mat for apologizing earlier. Kell now feels he owes the man one for that. How little he knew.

He had meant it more as a weak joke than anything. Rhy sighs, rubbing Kell's back gently. He's not sure he should ask, and he doesn't really like hearing Kell say he's sorry. It wasn't his fault. They both know that. Rhy braces himself, just in case.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Nothing really. We have no control over what we see when this happens."

He says this more for his own sake than for Rhy. No control what they see, but at least some control over how they react to it. Kell's hardly proud of his reaction. Him being irrationally jealous, is his own problem. He just hopes it didn't show much.

"You're really close with Ronan, aren't you?"

They started on a completely wrong foot when Rhy introduced him to Ronan. He started biased against the man. Partially because of what he heard about him. Thought him a problem. Hoped that Rhy will get bored with this brooding grump. Ronan has paid him back in full for all distrustful prickliness, radiating cool aloofness that only succeeded in pissing Kell off even more. Their meeting wasn't a complete disaster, but it was far from success.

"I've seen you two together. You looked happy." That's not all. Even if it was the only thing there, it already would have been enough. But it wasn't. It so much wasn't. "You looked healthier."

Rhy stiffens slightly. He doesn't usually feel awkward, and Kell isn't exactly a stranger to him flirting with people left and right and occasionally getting them both into trouble. But this feels different. Knowing Kell had seen--

Something. He's not eager to ask exactly what, feeling a rare sense of embarrassment. It's one thing to talk about it, and another to know Kell was in his memories.

He understands what Kell is getting at, though.

"Yes. I do enjoy being with him," he confirms, unable to quite shrug off the awkwardness. "But also... he has a close connection to the Singularity. The way his magic works-- I don't know how to explain it, Kell. It's like he's part of it. Sort of how... I am now."

He's not really sure how to explain. And he doesn't want Kell to feel like he's being replaced, considering how upset he'd been about the loss of their connection. It's not the same by far, but at the same time, he doesn't want to tell Kell how much the loss has really affected him and make Kell feel even guiltier.

That's why he didn't want to talk about it. It's one thing to know, a thing happens, or happened. It's completely different to have seen. Almost as if he was there. It is awkward. His own reaction to it doesn't help.

To hear Rhy describe it as he does. As what it is. It makes it both better and a lot worse. To know that there's someone who not only makes Rhy happy, but also healthier. Who can understand his link to Singularity, because he has on himself. It's a relief.
To know Ronan has something that not only he doesn't, but it's so close to what he had and lost. It's infuriating. He has no right to be so possessive. Rhy is his own person. He has the right to chose whoever he wishes as his partner, and Kell has no say in this. Even if he sometimes acts as if he did. Ronan is not a bad man, only annoying.

No matter how many times Kell turns this all in his head, he can't banish the gnawing sensation of being deprived of something.

"He's making you feel better. That is enough for me."

Rhy hesitates, trying to decide if he wants to keep explaining. If Kell even needs to know, or if it would hurt him more.

He could tell Kell everything. How the Singularity's fluctuations affect him like a sickness. How it feels like something is missing inside him, ever since he got here, that warmth and spark of life that Kell had kept alight inside him guttering out into cooling embers. How being with Ronan feeds those flames, how the magic warms his blood and makes him feel complete again. How spending too long apart makes him crave and miss it and feel that hole again even more harshly than before.

It sits on the tip of his tongue, heavy on his chest. But Rhy knows he cannot burden Kell with all of that on top of everything else, and that, besides, it would do little good when things obviously can't be put back the way they were. When Rhy doesn't want them to be, because Kell deserves his freedom.

So, instead, he says, "I do like him, you know. It's not just that. Do make an effort to be civil."

Honestly, Rhy thinks it's a bit amusing (and just as annoying) that Ronan and Kell have taken to each other like magnets of the same polarity. Still, it's better than Kell's fury over Alucard.

Kell can usually guess when Rhy is not telling him everything. As he does now, but it doesn't feel in the right to push. It was already a lot that he's seen it. That he had felt it. As much as he wants an explanation, as much as he wants to know, to understand, he also feels there simply isn't an easy one to offer.

Rhy is correct on one thing, they were getting on each other's nerves when they were connected. Everything felt too much. So it should have felt better now that they're not, right? Wrong. It feels miserable. As much as he appreciates his brother's intention to shield him from his own pain, Kell would rather prefer he didn't. But then, he doesn't have the greatest track with being open about similar things. The worst thing being he can do nothing about it... or close to nothing. He can, in fact, refrain from planning to dismember the man that makes his brother feel better. No matter how much said man feels suspicious to him.

"I vow to not bite, and keep barking to a minimum," he promises. See? Effort.

That is ... unless, Ronan does something to hurt Rhy. Then he'd gladly tear him apart.

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EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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