EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

[abraxasmods]

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

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

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

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

The Awakening

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

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

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

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

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

The Factions

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

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

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

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

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

Comments

[vixening]

[ the casual response he gives back has yennefer shooting him a knowing, not-exactly-entertained sort of look over her shoulder. yes, alright, she supposes that a ridiculous question such as that deserves some smart ass comment in response. she supposes she could allow him that, for all that this is.

it is a strange feeling, isn't it? the closest thing yennefer has felt to a home has always been that cloth-walled, magic-imbued space of her tent. furniture she decided she liked, that she wanted to travel with her. a space as nomadic and temporary as her time spent in any particular town. even if she spent much more time in the room assigned to her at aedirn, it was always something given. something she was settled into, but never felt right.

it would be a tall order to assume anywhere would feel right. not until she had found was it was she'd been searching for. not until she could feel safe again. but she can feel the foundational stones beginning to settle, something that, maybe, could actually be her's. the wood feels cool under her fingertips, familiar if only by the events that had occurred not long after she'd stepped away from the mirror image of this very vanity.

unbeknownst to her, or at the very least not an active decision made on her part, her horizon version of the sandpiper he'd sent her settles into the windowsill. he chirps, content, and moves to clean at his feathers. ]

You would know something of comfort, wouldn't you? [ her eyes are up to the ceiling, to the details of the room, a collection of books and items and a bed that looks more inviting than anything she's seen in thorne so far.

yennefer's tone is chiding, joking, but still she is distracted. by the room, yes, but also by the feeling she hasn't quite figured out, the one that unfurls in her chest. i have traveled away from my domain plenty. he did say his last domain had been rather depressing, and this certainly is a step up from the oxenfurt tavern, but yennefer tries to find herself in the realization that even at that time, she'd gone looking for him. for that place. even knowing what it meant.

there is a kind of stillness in the room as she tries to decide the words she wants to use, just how much of herself she wants to offer. if it would be worth it, but in that same consideration, why wouldn't she?

if it is something you wish for yourself... ]

I hardly wish to return to my own domain after everything. [ everything she calls it, when in truth she isn't sure what she would even find. the constant shift in terrain, the protected building, now in ashes. she hasn't been back since that conversation, since she watched the foundation of something she hadn't even actively made, but had yearned for so deeply that only voleth mier could find it, had collapsed into ashes.

what would be there, if she were to return? would anything be left?

yennefer takes a breath, seeming to tuck the very thoughts back away again. her expression returns to the moment, to jaskier, as she sweeps back towards him and slides her hand back into his elbow. ] At the very least I'll have to see what books it is you've found over in the Cities. [ she means the library he's furnished for her, readings he must have done in thorne but perhaps some additional ones as well. ] I may return to this room yet. But for now- [ and if he doesn't turn to the door himself, she will turn them both, making her intent quite clear. ] I think you've distracted me from that basement for long enough. My patience can only remain for so long.

[ as they leave, though, if jaskier were to check - the sandpiper picks up from where it had been preening and flutters further into the room. settling amongst the shelves, the books, the trinkets he's filled the space with. he remains, even as yennefer leads them back into the hall.

hopefully, he will take it for all the confirmation he needs. ]

[cointosser]

[She knows as well as he does. Jaskier has spent years of his life in turmoil and work, dirt and failure, to obtain the comforts he so deeply desires. He knows them well. The comforts he himself seeks, and what others seek as well.

He did tell her, as an artist, he must empthasize and understands more than simply himself.

Jaskier watches her fingers move across the room, nodding at her back at the comment. He understands. Even his own domain sent some sort of sickness rattling through him when it had been the tavern, as hard as he'd tried to make it something to appreciate. The very part of his mind that destroyed his vineyard was the one that wished the tavern would turn to dust in the wind. It's why this place is so reinforced with the idea that it is calm. That it is welcoming.

He needs that. And, he suspects, Yennefer needs it, too.]

Change it as you wish. Perhaps add some of your own books. [He smiles, nearly giddy. Oh, yes. She likes it. And he can hold it over her heard, next time she's rude to him, because it is a promise for the future. (Not that he is complaining.)

He pats the arm now curled back in his. It is not so strange to him the idea of leaning over and kissing her comes to his mind, but -- perhaps later. A wreck or not, she is still beautiful. And the sight of the sandpiper having found its way into his domain is enough to turn his heart to porridge.]

Fine, fine! Don't get your knickers in a twist. It is not meant to be a secret, only I know once we are there, you'll be loathe to leave.

[He's even more confident in the assessment having seen her take in the room. Jaskier gives the bird a look over his shoulder -- how could he not, when even here, in some small part, it is a piece of him? -- and leads her back to the winding stairwell, which widens for them to step down together, twirling down to a cooler, comfortable darkness only lit by still torches and glowing flowers. The roots of Bleobheris spread through the wine cellar that opens in front of them, lined from stone ground to the ceiling with stacked bottles of wine. He leads her over to one of the sitting nooks, comfortably cool, where a plate of cheese and bread already awaits her.] Now, what are you feeling tonight? Dry? Red? I have a fine one with hints of elderberries.

[vixening]

[ she does know - and it is what brings so much validity to her statement. because it is her belief, or perhaps even her truth, that only those who had to fight and work and suffer for these comforts will truly know them. and it is jaskier's years in dirt and failure and her years in muck and pig shit that have brought them to this place. to knowing what these sorts of comforts can mean.

and he is not far off - the calm of this place is pervasive. she feels it with each breath she takes, though it's not overwhelming either. it isn't something she feels the need to push back against. perhaps there is something to that - to pushing your domain to be calm, to be welcoming. yennefer's domain, at present, doesn't feel nearly as dark or heavy as the tavern that jaskier had built up, but it also doesn't feel like much at all.

that is something yennefer feels isn't necessary to dwell on. not now, possibly not ever.

when she turns back to jaskier she can see the giddiness in him, the light in his tone. she ends up rolling her eyes a bit at the pure reaction of it, just because she can already tell where this is headed. that she's given him too much say, too much ammunition. ] And why should I do that? Are you looking to steal secrets of Thornean magic, dear husband?

[ her hand slips back to his arm, and she chooses not to focus on the way that the very movement of it - the steps they take, the pat of his hand on hers - brings more calm to her than even the domain. she follows him back out to the hallway, down the stairs. it's not meant to be a secret and yennefer's brow simply lifts. no? some secretive dungeon that he had specifically avoided upon their first trip through? ]

Let's go, then! At the very least to get your mind off my undergarments.

[ said with a laugh, that easy tone. but as they descend the stairs and she takes note of the cooling air, the warm light of the torches and some glowing flora, it's comfortable - but in a very different way. yennefer's eyes are on the walls, the architecture, though it's not until they hit the floor that she understands what he means - that she'll be loathe to leave.

stacks upon stacks of wine fill the cellar, vintages and bottles that she recognizes from home. he leads her to a small nook where cheese and bread are already set out, and yennefer exhales, really and truly breathes and deflates, sliding into one of the seats and looking around the room once more.

she won't compliment him for the space - she's done enough of that tonight as it is, and she couldn't possibly inflate his ego any more - but gods. the wine. it's not as if her excitement is hard to read on her. ]

Dry- absolutely. [ she picks up one of the olives set out on the plate, popping it into her mouth as she scans the room once more. ] But I'll leave the vintage to you. Impress me, bard.

[cointosser]

[He barks a laugh.] You'd love if I said yes, wouldn't you? However, you'll be less than impressed to know I've had my hand in far too many tomes in Thorne's library. Perhaps I've already stolen all the secrets Thorne has to offer.

[He can sound cute and coy about it, though if that were the truth, none of them would still be here, would they? Thorne's mages have spread the knowledge of how to bring people here, and it has not ceased. The secret remains theirs.

However, that truth bothers him far less than it had seasons ago. Before they had decided to remain here, no matter what was possible in the end.

His smile is curved at the edges, teasing.] My mind has never been off your undergarments since you were fucking me into your bed. By the by, have you seen some modern garments? Those tiny, lacy things? I'm only suggesting.

[Because he's Jaskier, and it's what he does, even if the flirtations do not strikes as perfectly and as warmly as they once had. Before... well, everything.

But they did not come here to think about everything. He does not wish to, and he is quite sure Yennefer does not wish to, either.

It is enough she is here, maintaining her form. That her connection to the Horizon this time is not a flickering, weak string.

Somehow, even in her exhaustion, the quiet breath that leaves her supple lips, she seems stronger than ever to him.] Dry it is. [He pats her hand before slipping away. Over his shoulder comes:] Please, witch. I haven't failed to impress you for years.

[Or at least, that's what he tells himself. From their frantic first meeting, to her pounding into his ass, to their meeting once again in his tavern as she drifted through the air like a spirit. He's rather sure he's made his perfect mark on her memories.

He selects a dry, heavy white wine, the bottle cooled by the underground air, but clean. The label sports the emblem of Toussaint; a memory of a wine he'd one drank deep in the middle of a particularly prickly-hot summer. He'd eaten it with a light brioche roll smeared in goat cheese, and that's exactly what appears on the table as he returns with two glasses of the stuff. One placed in front of her, one in front of the opposite bench where he slips in -- and then the bottle, placed between them, waiting to refill the glasses far more than should be possible.] They called it the Duchess's Teat. So sour it would pucker like the beloved Duchess's aroused areolas. [He takes his seat, swirling the wine. The sharp, acidic smell of the wine fills the air, with a hint of apples.] Or so I'm told, of course.

[vixening]

[ his bark of a laugh keeps her smile around for a few moments longer, though her expression shifts to something closer to mock-impressed. ] Ah, well, that is good to know you'd already made your way through those shelves. But what of the secret libraries Ambrose keeps locked back in his wing of the castle?

[ because, as she is soon to let him know, all thorne has to offer is - just as it is with any court, any mage, any man of great intelligence who feels his power and status could possibly be shared amongst the general population - quite a bit more than anything they saw those first few months in the castle. and it says something, that she doesn't feel the need to still be angry at that, at her imprisonment, at everything ambrose had done to her.

maybe, perhaps, because what he'd done is the same as what became of her, anyway. maybe, perhaps, it is because yennefer's plan for ambrose is already in motion. perhaps, maybe, it just doesn't matter as much anymore, with all that has come after those initial months she'd spent imprisoned.

for now, though, jaskier's smile is teasing, and yennefer's brow remains lifted, as if his words are to be expected (as it is with most men after she takes them to her bed). but where the callous, sharp edge to her words might have cut him off, she feels a smile break through her look all the time, the arched brow giving way to a roll of her eyes. ]

I've seen some of them, yes, though I can't say I've had the reason to try my hand at them yet.

[ there is a chance that while jaskier's flirtations don't carry the same weight as they might have, before everything, there is enough of yennefer who latches onto the simplicity of it, even if it feels almost shallow, not nearly as full as before, from either of them. but he is right, it is enough that she finds that she can stay here, that the fear and uncertainty that'd clouded her time in the horizon before has eased.

( she wonders if she should tell jaskier of thancred and stephen - of the way thancred had tried to teach jaskier's sandpiper to hunt, while they'd been out on their quest. how fond stephen's become of the bird, too. how, in just a matter of a month or so, she'd now found someone other than him she could go to without complications. without hesitations.

but then a good part of her doesn't want to have that break into here just yet. this space he's built, this place that is his. yennefer has a room within it, can feel herself coming here, the next time she is able to enter the horizon, and for now she is content to keep that separate.

they get settled down into the cellar, and yennefer watches with an amused expression as jaskier turns to the place that he's been so careful to craft. a space that is his. she snorts, only once, chewing at the olive. ]

You've failed plenty before now, but that's what makes things interesting.

[ though there may be more truth to his statement than her's. there's a level at which he must not have failed for her to find herself back here again and again. searching him out, at his side, finding comfort in the cool stone walls and warm light around them. but, as expected, jaskier picks out a phenomenal choice of wine and snacks, something yennefer isn't sure she's even had before, but tastes perfect and tart and exactly what it is she'd envisioned. whether there is help from the horizon, or this is just jaskier's knowledge coming into place, she finds herself sighing around that first sip. ]

Of course - so you've been told. [ if the wine didn't taste so wonderful, she might have further pushed the matter, but for now she's actually quite content. ]

I haven't been to Toussaint in years. Is their wine really up to par, still?

[cointosser]

[He gives her a look at that. They're going to swing back around to those hidden libraries, actually, because now he's got magic, he voraciously devours any word about the power he can -- but more importantly, he's now imagining her in undergarments stunningly similar to Nadine's, with black lace -- no, purple, he thinks, a deep purple that's almost black -- at the edges.]

Well. If you ever do, and want second opinions, you know where to find me.

[He smiles, drinking his wine. (He refuses to acknowledge he's ever failed at all, thank you. She's here now, isn't she? Of her own choice, even.) And his smile only grows at her so you've been told. Who hasn't had their dalliances with the elite? Yennefer may have been on another level than a bard, being a very powerful sorceress, but it's not to say he did not once weave his way into such similar circles. For other reasons than power, of course.

His relaxed shoulders stiffen a little. Her question is not meant to be a barb -- for once -- but it makes him slouch back, fingers rubbing together.] Unfortunately, it's been some time since I had an opportunity to dalliance around Toussaint. It took months to begin spreading the name of the Sandpiper, then further months to find the support I required. Once I had established a sort of network in Oxford, I'm afraid I did not have opportunity to leave.

[He doesn't mind speaking of it, even if doing so brings a weight to a conversation he'd attempted to keep light. Still, he smiles at the end, his eyes lighting on hers.] However, I recall the wine was always superb. At least the bottles they served to me. I imagine lesser bards got the swill the pig farmers drank. Not that I have anything against hard-working pig farmers, mind.

[vixening]

[ she absolutely sees the look he shoots her and is very specifically ignoring it, holding the concept of a secret hidden library right out of jaskier's reach. especially as he shifts the topic onto the lingerie, onto whatever it is they are.

yennefer rolls her eyes at his smile, at the promise of you know where to find me, if only because she feels intimately aware of just how different things would be, now, from before. how she feels so very different. in a way, it feels like lifetimes ago when she had been helping him with his magic, lifetimes since that night in her tent. the tent doesn't even exist any longer, the closest thing to it left as a pile of ashes hidden back in her domain, and yet here was jaskier. joking, commenting, surviving on. moving on. building great things and even greater spaces and taking the time to build one for her.

there is something in the way his smile grows that she could chase after. some grand story he could weave for entertainment purposes, about their different paths in similar circles. but then there is a tension that shoots through jaskier, and yennefer's attention turns from her glass back to him. had she said something? had she done something? but when jaskier finally does explain she understands where the tension had come from. what she had stumbled upon by asking.

it does make sense, and for the weight it brings, yennefer doesn't seem all that uncomfortable by the topic. more so it seems like something that hasn't been far from her mind, that isn't ever far from her mind. she nods, takes a sip of her wine. ] That does make the most sense - the Sandpiper had been a settled name by the time I heard of it, and that's not something that just happens. Your work there speaks for itself.

[ another compliment, another acknowledgement, yennefer should probably be aware of how easily it comes now. how that doesn't exactly fit their exchanged barbs. how she should be worried for his ego. but instead she gives him a small smile, her own stature less like the clothes and cleanliness that her current appearance would assume and a bit more like she'd been in that tavern, tired and dirty and just trying to survive. or, maybe, it's somewhere in between. something that isn't quite scared but isn't quite straight-backed. someone who she isn't really all that sure how to be, yet. ]

No, of course not, and I'm sure the pig farmers didn't love having to share their swill with the lesser bards, either. Doubt they had much to spare. [ which... yennefer may be coming from a more personal place when she says that. like she would know a little more than just assumptions. not that she leaves much room for jaskier to poke into it, taking another sip from her glass and turning her eyes to the bottles that surround them, pulling up one arm to settle her chin in her palm. ]

And are all of these from home? I can't imagine there's good wine out in the desert of the Cities.

[cointosser]

[He can't help the way he lights up, even a little, to hear the name Sandpiper spoken with some degree -- even if it should be impossible -- of respect. Even when he had come up with the idea in the first place. Even when he had managed to convince his benefactors. All of it still felt as if it should be impossible. That one man cannot change this much. He relied too heavily on his music to change things, even as the war changed him.

But it had. It had worked. It had worked, in some ways, almost too well, until it had stopped. Until the mage, and his broken lute; until that flare of alcohol across his skin, burning it sharply, the smell of ripe, cooking human skin in the air. When he feared, knowing they may get away now, that the mage was likely to return. That this, being exposed, would ruin it all --

Jaskier eyes her. He knows well how to read between lines. He also knows which lines were not meant to be read.]

Most of them. The Cities have their own drinks of choice, of course, but I can admit their wine leaves that taste of real, rich sunshine to be desired. The sunshine there is more akin to a battering ram, especially during the hotter months. [He sighs, giving a short laugh.] Gods, I really do miss the kingdom's baths.

[vixening]

[ he can't help the way he lights up, and yennefer can't help but watch the brightening happen, the way his whole face shifts, expressive, lighter, even if only slightly. it reminds her, in an odd, vulnerable sort of way, how his voice had done much of the same for her as soon as she'd stepped in under that very tavern. even if it should be impossible.

her eyes return to the spread between them, the wine. she supposes she had come here to discuss more specific matters, but she doesn't find the urgency in her to press. just as jaskier had predicted, she doesn't really feel any reason to leave. the way jaskier describes the sun makes yennefer think of nilfgaard, os istredd, but she pushes the thoughts away. ]

They are something, though to your credit, they can also get quite old. [ she tilts her glass, watching the wine shift back and forth within. ] At least the Cities allow you to leave without need of an official pardon. If it hadn't been for my more recent quest for the High Mage, I would be tearing away at my skin just for a chance to be somewhere else.

[ there is a very specific tone around the way she says that, which jaskier should be well aware of by now. though it feels a bit more loose, here. like she knows her dislike of the high mage can be fully shared. ]

should we wrap up/handwave here for future things? I'm down for w/e!

[cointosser]

Old? [He says, aghast, between popping a round pebble of goat cheese into his mouth. Those baths? Not to him. Though, granted, there is something to be said of what one was is able to get away with even in Cadens's rather public baths --

It's a good memory, that's all. Him sinking between Geralt's legs.

Oh. Ah. She has a point.]

Right. I do remember that particular restriction. [Even though it goes without saying they had more important things to be worried over: that being Geralt, stuck in a cage, treated like a criminal when he'd committed no crime. And Jaskier had thought little of leaving while his friend was there, submitting new appeals to have him released nearly on the daily, to the point where the officers recognized the sound of his footsteps approaching.

Ever the gossiper, Jaskier's brows raise at her hook. It's a story, a potential one. Whether she's mentioning it only offhand or because she wants him to ask, he's taking it.] A quest, you say? How knightly of you. [He settles in against his own bench, stuffing a pillow behind his back against the wall. The wine refills. Fresh bread rolls appear next to the cheese, still steaming as he tears one in two halves.] Settle in. I want to hear this story.