abraxaslogs | EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

Entry tags:

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

[Alucard wants to react to being told no out of sheer spite. He can't run right now, he can't change form, so a stupid fight somehow seems like a solid option to a brain that feels as if two dozen racoons are rummaging through it and flinging boxes around.

The attempt dies in his throat, thanks to how Ciri holds herself. A headache and a fight are terrible companions, the one un-racoon filled part of his brain argues.]

You're right about that last part. [There. He can manage agreement it seems, but that doesn't help the matter. They're still stuck in an alley, still reeling, and all Alucard's mind can fixate on now is that she knows, worse, she saw it, she saw all of it and so the chorus builds up and up and up.

Fuck. He tries standing again, but his legs remain unsteady. So he tries a different approach, using the palms of his hands to support his weight inch by inch, until the dhampir is at least leaning against the wall. From a distance, he looks more like a hunched over drunk. An improvement, all things considered.]

Can you move?

[ She can't unsee or unknow what is in her mind now -- the images still scorched into the backs of her eyelids, the horror still fresh -- but she can guarantee that if she has any choice at all in the matter, she would never share any of it.

He probably doesn't want to talk about it. Certainly not, in fact. And Ciri won't push, but she does add after a moment, in a low voice: ] You were right to let them rot.

[ Alucard doesn't look like he's doing the best job standing, but they can't sit on the dirty ground forever. She still wants a fucking drink, at the very least to rinse her mouth. With a grunt, Ciri follows his example and drags herself up using whatever is nearby, lurching to her feet with her stomach and head both protesting loudly.

Leaning an elbow on the wall, Ciri takes another moment to compose herself and finally forces her back to straighten. ]

Come over and sit down a minute. [ She offers. They're very close, as she'd been heading home when they bumped into each other. ]

Just have to make it up the stairs.

[Movement is good. Even if they're both awkward about it. In retrospect, Alucard might manage some kind of commentary about the matter. Fish flopping about isn't quite right, but the thought occurring at all is a step in the right direction.

Still, he can't manage eye contact, never mind Ciri being in his line of sight. It wasn't easier when he told Jaskier or Gideon, but those things had happened organically. With Sypha, the circumstances were wholly different, and he's tempted to tell her to stay away entirely until this fades. The thought of her seeing exactly what happened (he had given the scantest narrative of the matter possible) is enough to threaten his very literal stability at the moment.

Not that Ciri's remark helps him much. There is, instead, a quiet and despairing noise. So much guilt has built up over the rashness of the actions, all spun up in knowing he could have and should have done better versus the still righteous anger that yes. He was right. He still is right.

Very seriously, he manages to ask:] Do either of us have a pair of working knees at the moment?

[ Ciri leaves it at that, unwilling to pick at the wound further; she hadn't meant to reopen it in the first place. Or any of the unpleasant reminders it brings up for her either.

Instead, the offer of distraction for them both: somewhere safe to sit down, a stiff drink. ]

I'd offer to carry you but alas. [ The joke lands a bit flat. It's an attempt, though. And Ciri notices he didn't decline her offer.

She leads the way stiffly, sticking near the walls and buildings where she can when they round the corner. Luckily, it really is just around the block and up the stairs of the bakery and book shop that share the building. Ciri fumbles with the keys and unlocks the apartment door above with a jangle, stepping in and well off to the side so there's no more accidental brushing one another. ]

Can't turn into bats at the moment either.

[That part isn't a joke. He can't recall if he's turned into bats in front of her before - Jaskier got that treatment early on - but being a lot of tiny bats at once is not something Alucard thinks himself capable of at the moment. They're managing words and that absolutely counts for something.

Alucard hesitates for a few moments. If he can't change form and movement is a pain, then the only option is to take Ciri up on the offer and be out of public view. So long as they don't have another accidental brush, they should avoid a repeat of what just happened.

He keeps a distance behind for the obvious reasons, following Ciri up to the entrance. The scent of bread is slightly more heartening than anything else that's hit his nose in the past few minutes.

Once inside, he immediately goes for whatever the softest surface might be, even if it is just a pile of blankets on the floor. Alucard isn't picky at the moment, and when he flops down, there's a soft omphf that follows.]

Smells better in here, at least.

[ Jaskier did mention. He was incredulous about it; Ciri thought it was funny. Either way, she's not laughing now. Mostly, she's just trying to exist in a more or less stoic state until they make it to the apartment and collapse.

Alucard appears to be of the same mind, as he immediately throws himself into the couch in the middle of the living room near the cold hearth.

Ciri lets out a dry noise that might have been an attempt at a laugh, or just another grunt. ]

Mm. Should hope so.

[ Resisting the urge to sit down herself, Ciri discards her belt and dagger in one of the armchairs and stumbles right over to the kitchen counter, uncorking a bottle of plum brandy just about as quickly as she can to take a swig directly from it.

Speaking of smells-- ]

You can use our bath if you want. To clean up, when you're ready.

[Alucard can hear Ciri's moving about in the kitchen. He can't tell what she's going for exactly, his nose feeling as overwhelmed as it is, but he doesn't need to. A drink is the only logical reaction after that, the particular type nothing more than a detail to fixate on rather than engage with anything actually happening.

The sofa is a mix of familiar smells at least. Some of a brooding Witcher, some Jaskier, some Ciri, a few fainter scents, and that's also sobering. One less sense overwhelmed.]

Not sure how much of a difference that might make if I still have my clothes as they are.

[The response is half muffled into the sofa.] How do you stand living above the scent of baking bread all day?

[ The sharpness of the alcohol makes Ciri shudder, and it doesn't do as much for the taste of bile as she'd hoped, but perhaps being bracing is enough for now. She grabs a cup and empties a hefty pour into it before walking back over with both in hand. The cup is set on the table in front of Alucard; the bottle remains in her hand as she slumps into a chair. ]

Borrow something of Jaskier's.

[ She offers without missing a beat. Jaskier surely won't mind. ]

Hm? I think it's nice. Besides, Jaskier's always baking in here anyway... it's not much of a difference.

Pretty sure I'm wider than him.

[Alucard forces himself upright once the gentle thud of the cup sounds. It is with effort he does so, the fight or flight response finally dwindling away. Drinking is not how he'd normally approach this conversation or anything related to it but...this is also just not how he'd ever have the conversation.

So fuck it. He takes the brandy and knocks it back in one go.]

I'd be tempted to just buy the bakery out every morning.

[Alucard can absolutely bake, but then that just leads to the temptation to continue baking. The goal is idle conversation at any rate, and this is ideal. Baked goods, not trauma, washed down with a strong alcohol that has just enough sweetness left lingering on the tongue.]

May I have a second round?

I think Geralt has a shirt or two around somewhere. Though you've never had an issue leaving a coat unbuttoned before.

[ It's meant to be a tease. Unfortunately, the moment it leaves her lips, Ciri second guesses it, an inadvertent reminder of the vulnerable state she'd seen Alucard in. She covers this discomfort with another swig, then reaches over and pours more into Alucard's cup. ]

Sometimes they give us loaves and pastries that didn't sell. And Mog takes care of the rats, so it's a fair trade.

[It would be a very, very good one if it wasn't for what just happened. So rather than a soft snort of acknowledgement that yes, sometimes the fashionable thing to do is to just let the tiddies hang out, Alucard flinches instead.

Thank goodness for alcohol. The second pour disappears just as fast as the first one, if not faster.]

A very fortunate arrangement for all involved.

[This entire situation is a strange surreal thing now. They're both being pointed and respectful about not speaking of what just passed, yet every logical out to allow for the licking of wounds has been danced around. Alucard genuinely has no idea what to do at this point, nor is he about to ask if Ciri even wants to know what he saw. Probably not?

There's silence starting to settle in, awkward and with a strange texture. Alucard's instinct is to look around, if only to find a polite out. Because that's the right thing in his mind. Space and time.]

Are you going to give me a look like you usually do if I try to shift forms right now?

[Nailed it, clearly.]

[ Ciri sees it. Regrets causing that reaction. Stares at the bottle she's resting on her knee, then up at the ceiling.

She sighs. ]

No. I'm not. But before you do-- Or after, if you like--

[ She'd been distracted by what she'd seen, and Alucard hadn't mentioned anything of the vision he must have had of her past, but as little as Ciri actually wants to talk about it, there are too many secrets she holds that could put herself and others in danger. She needs to know. ]

I'd appreciate your word that you won't go telling anyone what you saw either.

...and I'd like to know what it was.

[ It doesn't have to be right now, if he really wants to go wolf form and curl up on the rug or whatever he's planning. She won't begrudge him that desire. But she does need to find out, eventually, and have his promise. ]

[Alucard knows that he probably should shift forms before he has a third drink. He's mixed up enough that a part of him is terrified that it might not take at all, and that would be absolutely ridiculous.

It makes now the easier time to give the answer. But the last part comes first.] You've my word. I don't pry unless someone shares of their own accord.

[That's not the great tragedy of any of this, but it is something Alucard has come to learn about himself. He has his secrets. He assumes that is true of everyone else and that they're also not inclined to divulge. So it goes that he's never asked for information unless the consequences seemed dire in Abraxas.]

You were younger, with Geralt and - I think Yennefer? I've only met her in passing, forgive me - in an open space. Not a field, not a warzone. More a steppe or desert. I'm not sure which, it went by in a flash. The focal point was a parade of riders approaching, skeletal and issuing a dire invitation to Hunt to you and you specifically. Except they used no names, only titles that would be more appropriate for invocations of spells.

[But that was it.] Then reality resumed.

[ Ciri tenses, waiting for it, bracing herself. Of all the horrors he could have seen--

The Wild Hunt. With Geralt and Yennefer, when she was young. Ciri realizes, instantly, what he means and her fists clench automatically, one fist tight around the bottle. But, all things considered, it's not... too bad. Unnerving for her, certainly. Her heart is racing, even as she wills herself to take a breath and another drink. Alucard, however, doesn't understand the significance of what he's witnessed, the magic that took the three of them there. ]

Appreciate you telling me.

[ She doesn't offer an explanation. ]

[There's a nod. And while Alucard intends to stick by his promise not to ask for details, he does have to ask something else. Ciri was interested in the matter at the singularity back in December, after all.

But first, a request for another drink with his hand holding the cup extended.]

Is there anything I should keep my eye out for then and tell you about, should I see particular signs here?

[ Ciri leans over again, pouring him a generous serving. Between them, they've already gone through half the bottle, and barely any of it was already missing to begin with.

Her brows furrow, eyes narrowing at him. Ciri frowns. ]

No. [ If any of those riders end up summoned here, she'd be the first know about it, after all. And they'd all be in trouble. ] Don't get involved.

[Alucard nods once to show he understands. He intends to respect that. Ciri's tone is all he needs to underscore exactly how serious whatever he saw was and that if he is to learn anything else, it will be if Ciri or Geralt deem it appropriate to do so.

But he's seen an illustration like it in his father's library before, documenting stories told further north of Wallachia. An unpleasant look passes over his face at the memory and the question of if he should say anything.

He downs his shot, then exhales.]

If nothing else, I owe you a new bottle.

[And a note about what he's read before? Fuck. He doesn't know. Alucard's gaze turns back to Ciri, trying to gauge if she's gotten her feet underneath her again.]

[ Ciri doesn't really understand the look that crosses his face, attributing it instead to how fast she shut him down. She sighs, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed after she sets the bottle down. She does, at least, seem a little less green around the gills now. ]

It's fine. Help yourself. [ If he wants more. ]

Listen. You're a man who respects privacy. I appreciate that. There are plenty of things I've chosen to leave behind. Geralt, too. So I don't appreciate them being brought up like this-- not your fault, but that's the truth of it.

[ She already knows he feels the same way, but it needs to be said. And besides, she's not upset with him. That needs to be said too, just in case. ]

How about we both pretend we forgot what we witnessed. And if you ever see skeletal horses in the sky, you know nothing good is coming.

[ Is that last part a joke or a warning? Difficult to say. Don't worry about it. ]

I think anything more and I run the risk of turning into someone else.

[Tonight's not the night to become Trevor.]

We're of the same mind on that matter. From what little I've gathered, you more than deserve it.

[Alucard's learned not to take things personally from those out of Geralt's sphere. He's not sure if that's a matter of trust or the parallels that crop up a little too often.]

I agree with that much. But there are similar illustrations in books back home.

[There. Grimace explained.]

[ Unlike him, Ciri is keen on taking another drink. She's halfway to lifting the bottle to her lips again when she pauses, looks up with a flash of genuine surprise crossing her features for just a moment before she finishes the motion, takes a swig, and sets the bottle back down. ]

Illustrations. [ she repeats, not quite a question. ] Tell me more about them.

Hmm.

[This is so much easier to focus on. Alucard's eyes close, summoning memories of all the books in his father's library. The dark but not too dark ones, identifying all of the night things roaming Europe. He hears pounding hooves in his mind again and...there. That's the image.]

They were not armored skeletal things. Just men upon their horses riding through the night sky over the land. Usually identified with olds Gods rather than the singular Christian God, seen as an omen or harbinger. A similar iconography to yours, but not precise. And not common either, at least by my time and place.

[Now he'll drink. Slower this time, the pace of his heart no longer thundering.]

[ Ciri doesn't know what singular god he's talking about, but it's clearly something from his own world, and unimportant. What sticks with her is that he has seen drawings of the Wild Hunt in his sphere, heard legend of them. As being who can cross between places and have been following her to impossible lengths, it should not be so surprising that they've been recorded in worlds apart from the Continent. No, it's not really surprising--

But it still makes her shudder a little and take another drink. ]

They're a legend. A bad omen.

[ She hesitates, but it's not like giving the generic name will do much either way, and she's curious now if he's heard it. ]

The Wild Hunt, some people called them.

Seems some concepts cross the boundaries between worlds. Like certain monsters. And vampires.

I believe that was the designation they were given among my father's books. I only know that it was less of a concern for us by the time I was born. And that there are worse omens than men riding through the night sky. Giant faces appearing in flames, for example.

[A totally random and not exceedingly specific example. Perhaps this is too much. It is. But Ciri's shudder at the word omen makes the dhampir desperate to guide them away from the subject, if only to give Ciri the same grace she's offered him.]

And monster hunters. [Geralt knows, but Ciri doesn't. Alucard doesn't know what difference it might make, but it might ease the tension some.] My country had a family that filled a similar role to Witchers.

...hm. Sounds like a bad omen, indeed. [ One she has not encountered, at least. Probably unnerving. She gives Alucard a look that hints at curiosity, but doesn't press if he doesn't decide to elaborate on his own.

The mention of monsters hunters, however, seems clearly aimed toward having her explore that branch of conversation instead. She indulges it. ]

Monster hunting as a family enterprise. That does make some sort of sense.

Had your own run-ins with them, I take it?

You've no idea. [They can walk away from omens in the sky now. Ciri has what little information the dhampir can offer her about the Hunt. If it brings comfort or greater understanding, so be it. He's respected the request not to pry. He intends to honor it, with nothing more he can give.

Easier to take the piss out of the Belmonts. There's a weary, uneven attempt at a laugh. At playing it all off like this is a normal conversation over drink and not desperately trying to fill in an impossibly awkward silence because of what they just saw from each other.]

What, you've never had your father be hunted for nearly 400 years by the same family for whatever ancient grudge happened between them in another country entirely? [Okay, understatement but.] They took care of other supernatural threats as well, but my father was always the one that loomed largest.

[Sometimes literally. Alucard lets out a long, long exhale. He's nearly melted into the chair now, the awkwardness of this all leaving him wondering what the best means of excusing himself might be. Or if he should. What he's forced upon someone else is...

...there's still that awful sense of responsibility to make sure she can ride out the initial shockwaves.] Do you need something besides the alcohol?

(no subject)

wiedzminka - 2022-06-09 06:53 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cryptsleeper - 2022-06-09 13:38 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry, traffic en route home and cat was needy

no worries!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)