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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She slides the wine back over to him across the tacky surface of the table, with only minimal reluctance. He's right and she knows it-- much better than waiting around for something stupid to happen. Waiting to spill awful secrets and have Harrow gangbang her to death with skeletons. Not the kind of gangbang she really wants to go out on.

His joke gets a laugh from her though, and she has to restrain herself from reaching over and slapping his arm when his final comment comes because look, the implication is there that after one kiss maybe he gets his shot??]

Hey!! Don't go making mausoleum eyes at my girl.

[It's a joke but her smile is thin, with little real mirth in it.]

Seriously though, I think you'd be waiting forever. Maybe I should just accept she's not into me.

[She slumps in her seat dramatically, for effect.]

[This is just what they do now, isn't it? Slide wine between them when things are bad or good, sharing not quiet secrets but confiding in the other because they get it.]

I could make a joke about how my father's people claim the dead travel fast but I think that'd be a bit much.

[There's a small sip of the wine before it is passed back. Gideon needs it more, dramatic slumping or not.]

If you do, then there's other opportunities. And you could end up pleasantly surprised if the living decide to speed up their pace, so to speak.

Riiiiight on the edge, but I'll allow it.

[The thin smile grows a touch in strength, and she's quick to retrieve the glass. Knock back more of the rich, dark liquid inside.]

Are you saying I should make her jealous? Because you know, that might just work. She's always been a possessive little shit. Maybe if she thinks there’s a chance I’m gonna run off with one of the local hotties she’ll realise she’s rightfully besotted with me.

[Behind her, the tavern is continuing to fill up, the buzz and thrum from newly arriving patrons growing louder. It's something she's only distantly aware of right now though, far more focused on the two of them and what feels like it's swift becoming one of their regular sessions. Despite her dramatic woe, it's kinda nice.]

I'm not saying anything. To my ears, what you're saying sounds petty and like it might back fire.

[There's a shrug, elegant and knowing that Gideon's gonna do whatever she's gonna do. He's not so cunning in the romance department.

Alucard's eyes go up for a moment, scanning the room. They're still the only two Summoned around, which is a good thing as far as he is concerned.]

What do you even want out of a relationship?

Rude.

[She slants him a mutinous look as she takes a sip of wine, before sliding the glass his way again.]

And what do you think I want out of a relationship? Sex on demand and access to someone else's boobies, obviously.

[She gives him the finger guns, tips him a wink. But almost immediately, she deflates again.]

But seriously? Just between us hoes? I have no fucking clue. I've barely had any kind of relationship before. Like, with anyone. Take you and me, for instance. You're the best friend I've ever had, like, ever. You probably know more about me than anyone alive, bar Harrow. And we've known each other for, what, a few months now? So fuck knows what I want. All I know is, she and I have a profound connection. We were forged down there in the dark together, and sure, maybe we're polar opposites and I once hated her fucking guts. But we're just...connected. You know?

[Her eyes meet his for a moment, bright and earnest...until abruptly the gravity of the situation comes crashing down on her and she looks away. The dim lamplight of the bar casts many a long shadow, and she just hopes they’re long enough to conceal the heat that rises in her face.]

Gimme the wine back, I've changed my mind. I need it more than you.

[Rude but not wrong as far as Alucard is concerned! Still, he rolls with it, taking the glass with him. For all that Gideon is flippant about the question, the real answer? That gets a thoughtful, quiet moment out of him.]

That's actually quite a romantic sentiment. [Alucard knows that is a spot where they can dwell, but Gideon may not be up for that level of sincerity. Responding to the second part first allows that little bit of grace to move on, if she's so inclined.] And for whatever it is worth, the feeling in the best friend category is absolutely mutual. Moreover, it is appreciated. I genuinely don't think I'd be handling this as well if I didn't have someone to lean o-- oh fine.

[He slides the glass right back over, an idea popping into his head.]

Do you want me to just ask for a second glass? Or to bring the bottle over? [He's definitely allowing that extra moment for Gideon to look away. Yup.]

[Romantic? Ugh, this is so gross and bad. How did she end up talking about this shit again? Why did she put herself into such an awkward situation?? And it's only marginally better when he keeps talking, because at least with his revelation of mutual friendship she feels a soft glow at the centre of her that she's never really experienced before. Sure, she's always been acutely aware that her situation had been shit and entirely undeserved, that she isn't an unlikeable pariah suited only to being shunned. She knows this-- but it's something else entirely, somehow, to have someone else overtly confirm it for her.

It's a relief when the glass of wine comes her way again, and she knocks it back in one fluid gulp. Wipes her mouth on the back of her gloved hand even as she's catching hold of his distraction like a life raft. Quickly, she nods.]

You know what? That second glass and the whole damn bottle sounds like an awesome idea.

Keep my seat warm then.

[Alucard stands up and starts moving towards the bar, careful as he goes. No part of him is shocked that Gideon took the way out to absolutely not talk about feelings. He's the same way, and you know what? Whatever happens in the would be relationship with Harrow, Alucard's just around for Gideon to lean on.

And that's a nice feeling. The steadiness of the friendship as well as feeling capable of doing that much for a friend. He gets to the bar, exchanges a few words, and walks back over with a second glass and the whole bottle.

He pours his glass first, then reaches for Gideon's. In the wordless exchange, there's a moment of his fingers brushing over hers, and then--]

--Shit.

[His leaving gives her a moment to compose herself, to quietly consider what she could say in return. You're meant to react when people make themselves vulnerable for you, right? Admissions of friendship should be recognised, and she should maybe thank him or something, or say she's glad her presence here has felt like support rather than a nuisance...right?

She's still contemplating the right words to express how she feels when he returns. She watches him pour dark, red liquid into the newly acquired glass, golden eyes on his hands and her throat feeling dry as he pushes it toward her. Fuck she feels thirsty all of a sudden, maybe a swig of wine will help lubricate her tongue and allow her to--]

Nnnngh!!

[It's just a brief moment of contact, and yet her head goes starry with pain as the vision-sharing begins. As for what flashes from her to him--

--She and Harrow stand on a dusty landing field, milky light struggling to illuminate them as they face off against each other. Two monstrously old individuals stand some way behind the Reverend Daughter, and the one with the hideously bowed-out leg and the multitude of scars cries out "Nav!" in a warning tone.

"I gave her my whole life!" Gideon announces, voice clear and aching, before unsheathing her sword.

It happens fast after that. Harrow peels off her gloves to reveal hands that are raw with oozing, bloody cuts, and Gideon's eyes widen as terrible realisation comes up on her too slowly. Skeletons burst from the hard-packed ground at her feet, and she fucking legs it, only for them to continue to arise in all directions, grasping for her arms, her legs, trying to drag her down.

She can't outrun them, there's just too fucking many, so with a strained cry of pent-up rage and frustration she launches forward instead, back to where Harrow - cold and calm and assured, bloodsweat prickling her skin - still stands. Gideon smashes her way through carpals and metacarpals, fragments of bone splintering into dust as she moves, but there's just so fucking many. She's almost there, almost, then manages one wild kick that sends Harrow flying backwards into the arms of some waiting skeletons who cart her off to safety just as Gideon is overwhelmed. They drag her down to the ground, fleshless hands keeping her pinned as she wildly thrashes now, tries to escape-- but it's useless. Then the mass of the dead peal back to allow Harrowhark - face gleaming and triumphant - passage through...whereupon she promptly kicks Gideon in the face. Blood sprays from her busted nose, and a tooth flies off into the dust. Her head drops back against the ground with a pained grunt and Harrowhark moves to place one foot - firm and resolute - on Gideon's chest.

The vision fades out, and in it's place there's the sight of Gideon being dragged by one leg through a central isle of some grisly parody of a holy place, the other, gristled old servant making no effort to ensure Gideon comes to no further harm as he yanks her onwards. The space is thickly shadowed, bones strung about like disturbing party streamers, luminescent dust peppering the walls and providing scant yet eerie illumination. It is bitterly cold.

There are rows upon rows of pews hewn from bone, and the worn leather that pads out the seats? Take a guess as to what that's made from. Most of the pews in the long, narrow channel of a space stand empty save for the immobile shapes of skeletons, but here and there they are scattered with decrepit forms wreathed in black, their faces painted like skulls.

In the centre of the space is an alter wreathed in fatty, misshapen candles spilling out more sputtering smoke than light, in front of which stands Harrowhark, her face dusted with the luminescence that scatters the walls. There's a glimpse of some ghastly dark shapes around her - ancient Royals of the Ninth House, hunched and silent but for the dull susurrus of their bone prayer beads sliding against each other - and two in particular, shrouded in moth-eaten lace, faces largely obscured, have a nasty air about them. Something unnaturally still, stiffly poised.

And as Gideon is hefted unceremoniously onto one of the pews, the back of her head striking bone so sharply that it has her hissing through her teeth, the vision begins to fade out again. There's Gideon's muttered 'for fuck sake'--

And then it's over.]

[Alucard doesn't have the chance to recoil. His only focus, once the same sharp pain starts, is making sure he's seated and his hands are away from the glasses before them. The bottle too.

It means that finger nails extend into claws, digging into his own palms as yet again unwelcome memories pour into his head. The violence is nothing new. That is almost expected. But where his panic begins is watching is friend, damnit dragged down a bone filled cathedral (that's what it is, so far as he can tell) for reasons that are impossible to tell, but he hates all the same.

But whereas Alucard receives raw terror, Gideon is given something all together different. Oh, it certainly begins outside of a castle with impossible architecture - spires that defy gravity, connect to a core area with only a single corridor, the whole thing looming and broadcasting danger - but only because a much younger Alucard is running inside in the fading light. His hair is still long, he's precocious in how he carries himself, but there's a brightness in all of his movement that only children seem to have. He's followed by an adult who could only be his mother - the blonde hair is the giveaway. She reminds him Adrian, slow down. You know the flag stones are uneven.

No surprise, that's ignored, and there's a flash of memory again to the kitchen. The real kitchen that Alucard's one in the Horizon seems to be modeled off of, with Alucard seated on the kitchen counter while Lisa works at a pot, walking him through making a particular soup. It's at that point, a long, long shadow fills the room and the doorway.

Dracula is a tall man, pale and dark, and he wears traveling clothes that are quickly shrugged off and left aside on the floor. A flurry of hugs and I missed you follow, and the night becomes longer. Spent discussing travels, Alucard hanging on every word and Lisa seeming gently bemused about her husband's most recent attempts at exploring the human world. The whole thing is impossibly warm. Loving.

Safe.

Alucard slumps back in his seat when the worst of it all seems to be over.]

You okay?

[As the vision overtakes her Gideon just as time to mentally brace against whatever is to come-- something dark and awful, probably, because isn't that how this shit tends to play out? But instead there's--

--the soft enveloping feeling of safety, and of warmth. Even Alucard's (who makes a cute kid, by the way) tall, imposing father seems to radiate a sense of protection and gentle emotion. It's awful in its own way. Touching and beautiful and intimate, and she'll feel guilt for that later. For prying into something that should have been her friend's alone, that wasn't for her to see. And there's the other thing, the rush of loss waiting to flood in the moment that the vision ends as somewhere dully at the fringes of herself she thinks - huh, so that's what having parents feels like.

It's a good memory, grounded and earthy with honest feeling. Almost, she doesn't want it to end.

But then it does, and she slumps back in her seat. Moans low and soft because fuck if her head doesn't hurt, if she doesn't feel like she's about to puke up all her wine. One hand moves to cover her mouth and she breathes in raggedly for a moment, nausea pulsing through her in waves...but then she nods, and her eyes flit over to find his.]

Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.

[She says, letting her hand drop back onto the table, grounding herself against the feeling of solid wood beneath her fingertips.]

You?

[With eyes closed, Alucard tilts his head back, face pointed towards the ceiling. His cheeks are flushed, he's fighting the urge to turn into bats and flee. Not that his head could manage being bats at the moment, the world is still swimming around him. Everything is too sharp, too focused.

But the edges slowly soften. He breathes out only once it feels that his head isn't going to split in two, and at that, Alucard finally stops digging his nails into his palms. The wounds heal instantly, but the blood remains.]

I can genuinely say I've had worse. [His voice is still uneven, as is the exhale that follows it.]

We may need something stronger than wine.

[She eyes the blood dripping from his palms and clicks her tongue against her teeth, resists the urge to ask to see. She's no medic, wouldn't know what the hell to do with him anyway, and she knows he's too hardy for scratches to bother him for long. So instead she breathes in deep, takes stock of herself. Somewhere at the edges of her consciousness she becomes dimly aware of what she'd unwittingly shared with him-- it had been hard to tell though, what with the way his memory had folded over her. But she's cognizant of it enough to know that she isn't exactly pleased. The moments leading up to the one defeat that had ever really knocked her sideways. Momentarily crushed the hope out of her. Eww.

Slowly, she nods.]

Yeeeeaaaaah, definitely something stronger.

[And then, with a touch more caution.]

D'you know what I saw, just now?

[Alucard faintly realizes eactly how much blood has gathered on his palms, and for a moment, looks around. There's nothing he can safely wipe the drying blood onto, and so with a little bit of embarrassment, he settles for drying them against the legs of his trousers. It isn't ideal, but it is safer. He's never quite figured out if his blood can turn people the way a full blooded vampire can.]

Any requests?

[He's paying. Bare minimum he can do, since this is his fault.

But the question has his attention. The pause doesn't drag on, but his voice betrays concern.]

Something that isn't upsetting, for once?

[She sees it there in the angles of his face, that flicker of concern. Concern for what, though? That she'd see something violent or morbid beyond all reason? Or that she'd catch something intimate and soft that was meant only for him? Fuck knows there is nothing of a gory nature that would have ruffled her; she knows some of the darkest parts of him, after all. Accepts the reasons for it.

She tries to look casual. Pushes a smile. Rolls one well-muscled shoulder in a shrug.]

Nothing upsetting. No blood or swords or anything like that. I'm almost disappointed.

[She says, and hopes he sees that for the joke it is.]

And hey, I trust your tastes waaaay more than mine. I usually roll with whatever's the least expensive, you know? As long as it's hot and hard and leaves me breathless, we're good.

[She says this last part with a waggle of the brows, for levity.]

You've gotten all the good, gory stories out of me anyway.

[Gideon's met the worst parts of him. She's one of only two people to know the full of it under Alucard's own disclosure, and it isn't something he forgets or takes lightly. Instead, the disappointment comment gets a soft little noise of real relief, and then he stands up again.]

I thought you swung the other way on that topic.

[It is a dead pan, and it is an exit note that lasts for all of the two minutes it takes for Alucard to return with two large glasses of something light brown with ice in it. He made sure it didn't smell like a bog (or Godbrand) before paying, and both glasses go back down on the table with a soft thud.]

It's aged in oak barrels, whatever it is. Smelled complex enough.

[Complex is for dog noses though. Mostly it smells like alcohol, along with hints of vanilla and oak. It's a decent whiskey, at any rate.]

If it wasn't upsetting, then may I ask what it as instead?

[She just has time to crack a bright, pleased laugh - her nausea and that ugly sense of intrusion briefly forgotten - before he drifts away toward the bar without giving her a chance for a follow-up. No matter. Seeing her corrupting influence in action is enough for her. The deadpan delivery only makes it all the more entertaining.

When he returns moments later and sets a glass down in front of her, she's swift to lift it, to sniff it for herself and-- it smells of alcohol. There's something warm about the scent, and she wouldn't call it unpleasant. But beyond that, 'complex' is a fucking mystery to her. So she just nods as though she knows what he's talking about and lifts the glass to her lips--

--it licks a burning path down her throat, almost leaves her choking. It's good.]

Good shit.

[She says, and keeps her eyes on the dark liquid in her glass rather than on him as she answers. Just in case.]

I saw baby Al. You were a cute kid, by the way. Granted, my only real experience with kids was Harrow and she looked like a scrawny collection of sticks with a head. But um, it was just you as a kid. With your parents. It seemed like a good memory.

[She says the last part cautiously, finally lifts her eyes to watch his face.]

[Alucard's a little more cautious with his initial sip of the drink. He's already given it an appraisal sniff, aware of how strong the actual alcoholic scent happens to be. A tiny sip (it burns and burns good becomes a larger one, ice rattling in the glass as he lowers it back down onto the table.

Baby Al means that Alucard's eyes can meet Gideon's without any issue. There's a soft snort, more at her description of Harrow rather than at himself. He was a damn cute kid and he knows it.]

And now you know where I get my looks. [He was trying for deadpan. There's warmth there instead, because fuck it. Childhood was good. His parents were pretty excellent, all things considered.]

You're the second person to catch sight of something like that. Interesting.

[What he doesn't offer is what he saw. Only if Gideon decides she needs to know will he share.]

[A soft bloom of relief opens up in her at the sound of his deadpan response, at his perfect lack of concern. Not angry then, or upset, as she feels she might be had she something so close and personal to share as that, instead of the hard, ugly spaces of the Tomb.]

No fucking kidding. You never said your mother was a knock-out.

[There's the white light of her grin, a teasing arch of a brow. And hey, daddy was in the same ballpark, if you're into tall dark and male. She takes another sip of her whiskey, the bad aches in her slowly easing into the background of her awareness.]

It seemed like you had it pretty good for a while there.

[She says it and sounds almost wistful, makes no mention of what he may have gleaned from her. Not yet.]

[It's hard to get mad about someone else getting to see the better side of your parents, in Alucard's experience.]

I'm pretty sure I would never think of my mother in that particular way, and I am restraining the urge to kick you under the table.

[His own grin is smaller, but hey. He has to at least comment on that, if nothing else.]

It'd have been nice if it lasted. [Alucard's wistfulness matches Gideon's, prompting another drink.] But it existed for a time. That counts for a lot.

[It's not exactly peace. More coping, as long as Alucard does not dip into the details of what came to pass. Manageable.

Speaking of. Best to poke to bear.] I won't ask if you don't want to explain or get into details.

Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't.

[Says Gideon with the blasé attitude of someone entirely accustomed to being kicked for her insolence. Then they share that quiet wistful moment, and Gideon finds herself momentarily drifting toward the thought of what it would have been like had her mother lived. If she had some other parent out there who might yet be living with the question of what had happened to her still lodged in some quiet space of their mind. It does count for a lot, she thinks, that it existed for him even for a time. She finds herself caught partway between jealousy and gladness. Fuck knows he's endured a lot of darkness. It's good that he got to experience the thing she'd spent so much time daydreaming about as a child.

The not-question brings her sharply back into the room, however. And she looks at him narrowly - as though that might tell her everything, with no words needing to be said - before taking a bigger, deeper swig of whiskey. This time she does cough, meaning it's a moment before she's able to give him any kind of verbal response.]

Fuck. That shit is definitely strong. But yeeeaaaah, go on then. Let's have it. On a scale of one to totally boned, how bad was what you saw?

Edited 2022-05-03 16:58 (UTC)

You only did it once. Second time, you'll be limping for a few days.

[His smile is casual and as light hearted as can be after a friendly threat. Easy, unlike the time Gideon's having with her current drink. With that though, Alucard sobers himself.

It won't be the worst discussion they've had. Not by a mile.]

I'll assume that you and Harrow getting into a fight is normal enough. Being dragged into some bone church for a trial or tribunal though would be out of the ordinary though, yes?

[The questions are soft enough so that no one can overhear, trying to be direct about what he saw without adding too many over the top details. There's no politeness to be had with this kind of thing, but he wants to try to allow for any grace that can be found.]

[The chill threat behind his smile only draws a shitty grin out of her, but she says nothing more on the subject. Consider her duly warned.

As for what he says-- she nods, slowly. She and Harrow had fought tooth and nail their whole lives. And as for the rest...she feels an odd rush of feelings as she considers that wretched day in hindsight. What had been the worst day of her life to date had blown out into...what? More shitty stuff, sure. But even considering how things had ended in Canaan House, she knows right down to the bones of herself that she'd go through it all again in a heartbeat, if she had to.]

Not a trial. An announcement.

[She says, at length. Still trying to disentangle her own feelings.]

And yeah, you're right. I'd avoided stepping foot in that shitty place ever since I was small and it became desperately apparent that I'd never be a nun, or an obedient servant of the Tomb. That was the day my last escape attempt ended up totally fucked because the Emperor Undying - of all people! - sent Harrow a letter. The shuttle I'd organised to get me the hell off that rock and take me to the Cohort got requisitioned by Harrow's real Cavalier, and with him gone...it didn't happen that same day, but that was the start of it all. How I got strong-armed into becoming Cavalier Primary of the Ninth House. It stung like a motherfucker at the time, having Ortus bugger off with my getaway vehicle.

[Which is a significant understatement. It had, at least temporarily, crushed her.]

But it turned out to be my ticket off world, and I have no regrets about that.

Could've fooled me. Not your best look either.

[Alucard does not doubt that the joke will fall flat, because what Gideon describes sounds like an actual nightmare to him. Not just the lengths that she went to get out of the House (and now, having caught a glimpse of the place, he gets it even more), but by how close she missed the chance to escape.

Sure, it all worked out in the end for a time (and guess who really hates the whole set up of that system! It's Al!) but it doesn't change the dhampir's dislike for anything related to Gideon's homeworld that isn't Gideon.]

As relieved as I am that it worked out, I can't imagine what it was like at the time. And may I say: your tombmates need to learn a little restraint in the decorative arts.

What?? Are you telling me the beaten all to shit by skeletons and a shitty old Marshal who hates my guts look isn't hot as all hell? And I thought I'd nailed it.

[She's trying, but there's definitely signs of strain around the edges of her glib words. The broken ribs she'd sustained hadn't mattered much, nor the tooth that had been shoved back in again (and subsequently hurt like a motherfucker) by an indifferently talented bone adept. Getting literally dragged into the inner sanctum of Drearburh had sucked all to hell, but it's the other thing that hurt the most. Just as he suspects, getting so close to freedom only to have it snatched away at the eleventh hour had thrown her into the darkest mental space she'd ever encountered.]

You're right though. It fucking sucked. Worst day of my life, and trust me, there were a lot of very shitty days. But hey! I'm not there now, and I'm never going back. Not if I can help it.

[She takes a more tentative sip of her drink, then tilts him a thin smile.]

Not even to tell them they gotta mix up the decor a little. Like, I know they'd be scandalised to hear it, but there's such a thing as too many bones, you know?

EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

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cw for a bit of violence

Truly the most gothic of Castlevastle vampires would think the bones a bit much.

totally overkill, Gideon agrees

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