september catch-all; open

[ushiri]

WHO: "Kyle" and you
WHAT: Monthly catch-all, including errands and quests
WHERE: Castle Thorne, Nott and Horizon
WHEN: Post-Libertas and Thorne farmland attacks
WARNINGS: General talk about war, violence, mention of sex work. The farmlands prompt has mention of handling animal remains. Additional warnings in thread subjects.
OTHER: Will match brackets or prose!

Comments

nott; open

[ushiri]

THE FARMLANDS
CONTENT WARNING: Animal death/gore

[ After the rains are summoned there's more work to be done. Kahlil steps carefully through the burnt and sodden remnants of a field. The farmers had escaped in time, but as they had explained, much of their livestock had not. The barn that had housed them had been reduced to almost nothing, a charred skeletal frame in the near distance. Some animals had died there, others out in the pasture.

There's little to salvage, even the bones are blackened. Carrion birds have only just returned, they help to locate any charred remains in the damp fields. He has no magic to help make the work go faster, but he can be found helping the farmers move the brittle bones and what little else remains onto carts and digging pits. The birds aren't the only scavengers. While he helps the family picked through the collapsed stone and wood that was their home, a group of ragged men approach from the west, watching them work from a distance. Kahlil holds tight the rusted shovel in his hand, keeping them in his line of sight as he continues to work.

He can also be found with the workers later near the outskirts of the city, washing off layers of black grime and sharing strange crystal berries from a small pouch with anyone who is hungry. ]

THE CITY OF NOTT

[ He takes advantage of the portals connecting Castle Thorne and Nott throughout the month as he helps, taking stock of the city at the end of the day when most of the work has stopped. In a tavern he can be found listening to what folks have to say about the crown and the war, a sort of grumbling that is in stark contrast to the current state of the castle.

In Old Nott there are places he lingers at a distance, dark alleys that he's tempted to walk through and let himself become lost in, but he reminds himself it's not the same here as Amura'taye, or even Nurjima. If he wanted company he wouldn't need the cover of dark to hide his face. Part of him desperately aches to be close to another person, especially after a day spent in the smoking fields, to momentarily fill in the space hollowed out by old memories and the prospect of the coming war.

He comes close to giving in one evening in the older part of town, when at a tavern a dockworker makes clear his intention with crude charm. The man takes his refusal well enough and moves on, undeterred, and Kahlil walks back to the town gates half distracted with thoughts of someone else.

A stranger catches him turning down the wrong street, a narrowed alley blocked by a half collapsed wall, and he feels the sharp press of a blade against his back. He goes still, and whispers harshly: ]

It's yours, take it. [ And the man does just that, slicing the pouch from Kahlil's belt.

It's empty, he'll soon find. ]

ғᴀʀᴍʟᴀɴᴅs

[stations]

( He likes to help out, sometimes. When he can, and when what needs to be done doesn't strike him as particularly weird or dangerous. Sifting through the burnt remains of structures post-catastrophe isn't really all that different from what he's used to doing back home, all things considered, so he goes.

For a skinny guy with a fake leg, he's surprisingly effective here — especially once they put a shovel in his hand. It turns out Jack's hiding some crazy upper body strength, and he's really fucking good at digging holes. He's sweating, shirt plastered to his arms and his back, wholly encompassed with the manual labor in a way that's strangely meditative.

So he doesn't notice it.

An outrice, enormous, maybe seven or eight feet tall. Talons sharp, legs long, probably shaken from its domain after the attack. Pissed off, freaked out, and hungry.

Jack definitely looks like easy, completely fucking oblivious prey — he only becomes aware of the fucking thing when he rears back up to dump a shovel full of dirt out over the top of the hole he's chest deep in, by which time it's maybe six feet away and barreling forward, screeching. )

Oh shit-!

( Sudden and alarmed, he does the first thing that comes to mind — wields his shovel like a baseball bat, and swings. He hits the flightless bird square in the beak, which seems to take it aback at first — and piss it off more immediately after. )

[ushiri]

[ Kahlil is legitimately surprised by Jack's hidden skill. Also that it didn't take too much persuading to get him to do the work in the first place, considering how rare it is to see Jack anywhere except the library and their room.

They haven't spoken much about the attacks. Kahlil had been busy seeking information, out in the city and skulking around the castle in the immediate aftermath of Libertas. What little sleep he got was plagued by burning cities and eyeless sockets staring back at him.

When the smell of nearby fires had reached them a week later, he'd gone into a quiet panic, praying that he was still dreaming.

He's been quiet as they've worked today, lost in his own head. He'd gone to get some water for them as Jack continued to dig, and its with his back turned that he then hears the screech as the beast strikes at Jack's shovel.

A slip of cold air is all the remains where he was standing, and then suddenly he's at the creature's side, his hand dripping with blood. Its long neck is severed at the middle, a spray of hot blood washing over Jack and his shovel as its body drops to the ground, half falling into the hole with him. ]

[stations]

( It all happens impossibly fast. His arms are still singing with the familiar pain of hitting something way too solid with something also way too solid, using human joints that are less solid — when suddenly a wave of hot red wetnesss cascades over his face. He's way, way too used to the sensation of arterial spray, he should not recognize it the way that he does.

But he does.

It's a little blinding, a lot disorienting, and the adrenaline's still pumping. In the span of six seconds, Jack's mind doesn't catch up with the initiative order change to the combat round. He doesn't realize a new player has entered the game, only that it's his turn and something's still moving.

Before it clicks that it's Kyle and not a second (or still somehow living) outrice, Jack swings his shovel again in the general direction of Kyle's head. )

cw for gross

[ushiri]

[ He just barely dodges getting clocked by his roommate, ducking from the shovel swing aimed at his head and shooting Jack an agitated look. ]

Hey! Knock it off!

[ The shimmering stiletto edge of the Silence Knife vanishes from the first two fingers of his right hand. Next to their feet the head of the outrice is still spasming, as if not completely aware that its no longer attached to the rest of it. The body hangs mostly motionless of the edge of the hole, dark fluid oozing out the severed esophagus. ]

castle thorne; open

[ushiri]

ASSISTING WITH SUPPLIES

[ As much as he'd like to watch how the wards and protective spells are placed, it's too obvious that he doesn't yet know enough about what he's doing to linger where the mages do their work.

Instead, throughout the month he can be found in various places around the castle assisting with inventory counts and running simple errands. It's boring, tedious work that makes him almost miss the hustle and bustle of the runners, but it's all he's trusted to do - and with all those wards and protective spells blocking him from getting to where he needs to be, it's where he has to start.

By the end of the day he's having regrets. ]

I think I'm starting to go cross-eyed... [ He's staring at a crate full of glass jars filled with green liquid amongst many other delivered crates, muttering to whoever he's been working with as he tries to read someone's unfortunately ornate script on the invoice. ] - best guess, kitchens or alchemists?

CAUGHT SLEEPING

[ With all the running around he's been doing it was bound to happen sooner or later.

One early afternoon he climbs up into a tree in the walled gardens, lounging in a crook between a thick branch and the trunk to rest in relative quiet for just a little while, when he makes the mistake of closing his eyes.

His position is too stable for him to fall by accident, but if you pass by a certain section of the garden just a half hour later you might hear light snoring coming from up above in the branches. ]

errands.

[londonbound]

[ The supplies are a little late, and Rhy's been sent to figure out what happened. He ends up being told that the ingredients were given to one of the Summoned who volunteered, and then it's a bit of a search and rescue effort to figure out who got lost.

Ah. Kyle with a crate. That has to be it. ]

Alchemists was the correct guess.

[ Congrats, Kyle. Have a helping hand. ]

Come with me to the infirmary office. They're expecting these.

[ushiri]

[ Crouched over the crate he turns his head and raises his eyebrows at Rhy, clearly not expecting him. ]

Good - if it were the other way around I might've skipped dinner tonight... [ He gives the jars and their non-appetizing green fluids a dubious look before crumpling the invoice and slipping it into his pocket to throw away later. Gripping both sides of the crate he hoists it up as he straightens, nodding to Rhy to start leading the way back (not the he doesn't know how to get there by now, he's mapped all of the public areas of the castle). ]

Thanks for the rescue. You must be busy. [ Apologetic, and a little more somber than his words just a moment ago. Not yet busy with patients, at least, for now. The summoned rains take care of the fires, but he can still smell the smoke in the air and ash on his tongue. ]

[londonbound]

Unfortunately, yes. [ Rhy confirms grimly. He looks tired, jaw tight, a seriousness burying the easygoing, smiling demeanor Kyle met him in and might have seen around the castle previously.

He turns to lead the way, not offering to help carry anything as Kyle seems to have it well in hand. ]

Most of the injured aren't here. But we can send supplies and potions. I'll be going back out to Nott shortly to assist the healers there.

[ushiri]

[ It'd be hard not to notice the shift in Rhy's demeanor from their first meeting to now. He nods slowly, walking at his side with the crate taking up his arms. ]

I saw the woods and the fields a day ago... [ His expression goes grim at memories both fresh and older. ] It'll be a difficult winter.

[ With so much gone. Let alone for those who lost everything. What Thorne did to Libertas was horrific, but what the Free Cities had done would be a slower kind of cruelty to the citizenry of their enemy. The castle would prioritize itself and the army when it inevitably comes down to dwindling food stores.

Their steps seem to echo in the stone hall. ]

I don't think I could manage it like you - being a healer. [ He admits softly. He's not squeamish. He watched his fellow ushiri'im die horrifically in their training, some quick and some agonizingly slow. The name of the ushman that cared for them in the infirmary escapes his grasp, but he remembers the man drinking himself into a stupor some nights.

He knows the stench of burning human flesh.

Healing is the antithesis to his own purpose. He imagines the incantations would turn to ash in his mouth if he even tried. ]

let sleeping kyles lie

[ordinar]

He doesn't notice Kyle at first. That could have something to do with the fact that, lately, Wilhelm has actively avoided paying attention as much as possible. The world's on fire — he knows. He doesn't need to be reminded by every new detail that slips into his awareness. So he ends up spending a lot of time locked in his own head. Not that things are any better there.

It's by random chance, then, that he plops himself down at the base of the same tree. He's got a broken bit of a stick in hand, with which he idly slashes at the grass around him.

Of course, honing his magic would be a more productive use of time. But he hasn't been able to call out that inner flame since...everything happened. Or rather, the thought of reaching for it makes his stomach lurch restlessly, threatening the upheaval of what little he's managed to eat.

When a soft snore from above interrupts the doom-and-gloom march of his thoughts, he startles. It may not be loud, but it's sure as hell unexpected when he assumed he was alone. The stick he'd been fidgeting with flies out of his hand and up into the branches, clattering against the trunk.

Oops.

[ushiri]

He always dreams. Of Umbhra'ibaye more often than not these days, even when the wind turns the smoke from the castle and he can't smell it anymore. The burning orchards, the bloody bared teeth of the yellow dog, and his sister's bones singing sweetly in his ear:

It’s not them guns that kills ya, an’ it ain’t they bullets neither.
It’s the holes that kill you more than either.

A soldier steps on a dry branch, or stick hits the trunk of the tree. If he's startled, he hides it well. A very slight jolt through his body as it stiffens, his sleep-addled mind grasping for the present: he's in the alley with the tree that grows out of the broken wall - no - he's in Castle Thorne, and everyone's talking about war.

Kahlil is alert and focused in an instant. He opens one eye, slowly, and peers down at Wilhelm.

"You missed," he remarks, raising an eyebrow.

He's wondered about the boy in the past weeks. That he's heard nothing about him, and has hardly seen him is a good thing, all things considered. It hopefully means he's taken his warning to heart.

[ordinar]

Kyle will find Wilhelm half twisted around and neck craning to peer into the crown of the tree. His expression crashes down from alarm into sheepishness as he realizes who's up there. Meanwhile, the offending stick has landed somewhere in the grass.

"I wasn't trying to hit you," he explains with an urgency that belongs on the defense stand.

Just as quickly, he realizes the situation doesn't call for that degree of seriousness. After weeks of waiting for the worst, his paranoia is ready to jump at the smallest noise. Sighing, he pushes his hand through his hair, then tilts his gaze back up at Kyle.

"Were you...napping up there?"

[ushiri]

"Well, I was trying to..." he says with a faint, wry grin. He's not going to admit to accidentally falling asleep, although as he gracefully leaps down there may be hints of his weariness in his expression, the dark circles under his eyes. Both seem to be commonplace amongst many people within the castle.

He straightens on landing, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders and cracking his neck.

"Did you come out here to practice again?" That's how they met the first time, after all. He asks the question casually, as though they both aren't aware of what happened a month ago.

[ushiri]

SINGULARITY

[ In appearance the monolith before him bears little to the gates he has known, those marble pillars jutting like yellowed teeth from the earth and the pool of water that allowed him passage with the key. The size reminds him more of the Black Tower, though even there the color is wrong. But it is humbling to stand beneath its immense shadow.

This is not his first time here. He's scouted this land at least once before, having avoided when others were nearby - stopping him from getting too close. Only now that he is seemingly alone does he approach.

The Great Gate could take him between worlds, through time. One mistake and he could be torn apart, or the land around it could be torn asunder - like the crater he stands in now. He approaches, caught between caution and reverence. Lucifer had warned caution, but like so many things Lucifer has said, he takes that warning with a grain of salt.

With a hand extended his fingertips touch the stone. He feels the slight shock, a buzzing through his fingerbones that quickly recedes, the hum of something ancient left behind.

He drops to his knees, bowing his head in front of the stone. ]

Why did you spare me? [ He asks in quiet frustration, not expecting a reply, but speaking to his own god all the same.

Gates. Oracles. Traveling through space and time -

all he had wanted so long ago when he began this was to save his sister. ]

DOMAIN (WILDCARD);
[ Rarely he can be found in his temple. Currently the smell of fire smoke is in the air outside, though no fires can be found, and the sky is thick with gray clouds. Feel free to catch him praying in front of the iron tree. ]

dean; roadhouse

[ushiri]

[ There are Domains within Horizon that attract more activity than others. The tavern he walks toward is one that he's observed before, but not entered until this night.

There is something about stepping into these places that sometimes feels like stepping on a grave. This is one of them, though he can't say for certain why. It appears empty when he enters through the door, the dim lights giving a smoky quality to the open room along with the faint scents of liquor and old wood.

No one's tending the bar, and at first he ignores the alcohol displayed on the walls in favor of a a large, brightly lit display box propped against a wall. This takes him a few seconds to figure out - it's similar to machines from his other memories but different enough that he starts and stops a few songs before landing on one he lets play out. It's not one that draws any particular memory, the rough voice is one he mistakes for a man's as it begins, until didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?

He wanders back to the bar, finding the remote for the flat screen. Presses the mute button so he can listen to the woman's throaty, raw crooning and shouts alternating in the background. Colorful images play across the screen: mostly people playing instruments and singing themselves - these he mistakes for women with their big, bushy manes of hair. He frowns at the screen, flipping through the channels and not entirely sure what he's hoping to land on. ]

[righteously]

( He doesn't spend all his time in the Horizon. Nobody does, probably less so even for the folks in the Free Cities, where magic's treated a little more skeptically. Most of the time during the day and the afternoon he's out actually working, hunting, doing his job, or socializing at the tavern in the inn.

But when he's finished for the day, when he has downtime, when he needs something to do to keep himself from getting lost in his mind? His domain has become his go-to. Used to be, back home he'd be stripping his guns or working on his car — both of those things he can only do here, basically.

So he shows up eventually, not too long after Kyle.

He's heavy boots on hardwood floors, striding calmly and casually through the doors toward the bar — with a mild, assessing look shot Kyle's away. He wears jeans and a flannel over shirt, with the symbol of The Lovers embroidered on one of the pockets.

It's not a weird thing to see a new face in here. The bar's open, after all. New summoned trickle in periodically. Some become regulars, some don't. The right ones stick around, in the end.

His eyes flicker over to the jukebox, then to the TV, back to Kyle for another appraising moment.

Joplin's a good choice. Doesn't match the muted TV, though. Weird, but who is he to judge?

He doesn't say anything as he crosses, nor as he slips behind the bar. His first actual interaction with Kyle is to pop the top off a bottle of beer and then plunk it down in front of the guy. )

First time seeing one?

( A television, he means. He's just guessing, based on the way he's seen Inej and the people from Geralt's world react it before. This guy doesn't seem quite as baffled, but Jaskier had gotten a little familiar with them before Dean, too — through Nadine, he thinks, mostly. )

[ushiri]

[ Kahlil has only recently figured out how to summon different clothes within the hidden rooms of his temple. He wears a leather duster with the symbol of the Hanged Man etched into the right shoulder, beneath that a plain grey t-shirt and dark jeans - similar to what he might've worn in Nayeshi. Otherwise this world would have had him in a grey cassock beneath the coat, the Payshmura moons adorning his collar, advertising one part of what he is/was.

What can't be seen on him are the two curse blades at his sides, inhabiting some nowhere place until he should need to summon them.

(He hasn't been able to summon or find the yasi'halaun. He's been afraid to try. )

He hears the other man's approach, turning his head from the television screen to watch him. A regular or the one this Domain belongs to by the ease with which he moves here. Kahlil eyes the beer for a moment before setting down the remote, curling his fingers around the cold glass. Everything feels so real in these spaces. ]

No, just been a while. Ours was smaller. [ Ours. It feels like saying something he shouldn't, taking possession of what didn't belong to him. It was John's television, John's DVDs they'd watched. In that version of his memories, the ones he feels more certain of, John had never known how much that shared time meant to him. He could never tell him.

Kahlil gives an apologetic half shrug. ]

Wondered what channels you had.

[righteously]

( Been a while is a little weird, at least to him. He can't imagine a scenario where television isn't a fixture — aside from their current real world state out there, obviously. It's been in every room he's ever had for any length of time; motels, hotels, Bobby's, the bunker, everywhere. That's the entire reason for Dean's slightly incredulous expression, but it's brief, and he moves on quickly.

Slaps the top of the bar gently. )

Wellp, you're in luck. This baby's got MTV, VH1, HBO, Cinemax, Skinemax, Syfy, Cartoon Network, BBC America, PBS, CNN, MSNBC, CNN en Español, Telemundo, you name it. Just about everything but the CW and Fox, because screw Canada and republicans.

( Granted, the programming is all limited to crap he's seen before, but he's seen... a lot. )

{Let the faith be the truth

[shadowthief]

Inej has helped with search and rescue in Libertas most of the month, and it feels good to help, but it's a burden in its own right as well. The tragedy of it all. The desolation of a city. The loss of lives. It's... a lot.

She escapes into the Horizon for something of a brief reprieve from it all, and finds herself wandering up to Kyle's temple. He'd said before... she was welcome any time, right? It still feels strange and intrusive to step into another's domain here without warning, but she slips inside the temple and whether it's literal or not, she feels a wave of something calmer than everything inside of her when she's inside.

Inej takes careful steps to the base of the iron tree at the center of the room. She kneels and takes hold of her necklace, only found in the Horizon, manifested by her longing for something familiar, for something worthless to anyone else and priceless to her, that one piece of her family she'd been blessed to keep since she arrived in Ketterdam among everything else that had been stolen from her. She closes her eyes and mutters softly in her native tongue, prayers she knows by heart frontways and backward. In the end, this time, she invokes the name of Sankt Demyan.

When her prayer is complete, she opens her eyes and glances over at the older man, though she won't interrupt him. Perhaps this was the only way they were meant to meet– in times of crisis, or desperation for their deities to hear them.

[ushiri]

From his hidden chamber he senses the presence of someone else in the temple. These rooms he keeps for himself are like her necklace is to her - there's nothing of great monetary value to be found anywhere within, but the memories this walls reflect back to him are his greatest treasure - the closest he came to paradise. That he can manifest them in such detail is more proof that all of it was real, that he didn't just make it all up in the madness he endured two years ago.

There's no door that leads to this sanctum, he exits it by simply moving through an approximation of the Gray Space, shifting through the drywall and stone to the temple's great room, stepping right through the wall. In his hands is a simple tray holding a kettle of light floral tea, and a plate of apple slices. A greeting ritual he never indulged in outside of his Domain - he's never had his own space to act as a host to guests.

He sets the tray down silently and kneels beside her in his own silent prayer to the earth as the body of god, and blessings to the people. Though the sky through the glass dome above is darkened by smoke, the crystal leaves and fruit of the trees give off their own light from within like stained glass, and the iron boughs seem to stretch farther than usual, blocking most of the black sky.

"Welcome back," he greets her with a genuinely warm smile, though his weariness persists even here. It shows in the dark circles under his eyes, only absent the tension that shows in the real world.

[shadowthief]

His smile is understated, lined with a heaviness buried somewhere underneath it, and her own reflects something just as drained in return. "Thank you," she says softly.

She knows that food and drink in the Horizon isn't real, in the way an apple in the living realm is, but she appreciates it all the same. And it doesn't stop her from taking the proffered tea, if nothing else simply so she can have something to do with her hands.

"How have you been?" she can hazard a guess, but it feels necessary to ask, anyway.

domain! (sometime near the end of september)

[godshattering]

[ Now and then during the supply run, Claude takes trips into the horizon. Just for a change of scenery, just for a small break from reality. Maybe also to check in on friends here and there while he's away, if he's being honest with himself, but something about roaming the metaphorical grounds granted to them by the Singularity calms his mind much like walking the streets of Cadens does at night.

So that's what he's doing now, only rather than semi-aimlessly wandering around he is looking for one location in particular. Not that he knows very much about Kyle, relatively brief as their meeting on the hunting grounds had been and same for the conversation following. But - there is use in sharing information. This Claude will always stand by, fraught with tension as things are across those lines that divide each location.

Somehow he thinks he knows he's found where he's looking for when he follows his guess towards that impossibly tall structure. The sky shifts to clouds and smoke begins to permeate the air; it's nostalgia he shouldn't want for what it reminds him of in a war they'd closed the book on only to arrive to one here. Claude stands outside for a while and studies the architecture, the statues, and the trees before he heads through the open doors.

Once inside he stands in the doorway to both get his bearings and shake off the feeling of intruding. Surely he isn't - the doors would have been closed if no one was meant to enter, wouldn't they? That's how the locked rooms work in his own domain so it feels like a safe assumption. Eventually his peering around the interior ends with his gaze falling on a familiar figure in front of the tree. Though his own faith is questionable at best and sometimes borderline nonexistent, Claude knows better than to interrupt. He'll wait until the other is ready to talk. ]

[ushiri]

[ Even before his mind was shattered, he knows he has lived many different lives. The earliest one, belonging to his family, is near forgotten. Then there is the boy who grew up raised by priests, the young man he was before his mentor scarred him. There is who he was in his scattered memories of Nayeshi - both the Kahlil and Kyle. There is who he became under Alidas' care, Kyle'insira. And then there are those fragments of a life he doesn't think he ever lived, another misaligned version of history that sometimes feels so strange that it must belong to someone else.

In Abraxas, none of this has changed. He is Kyle when asked. He is Kahlil in his mind. In the real world he keeps his worship to himself. In his Domain it is on display, that which isn't hidden behind the stone walls. His clothing today has manifested as his old grey cassock under a black coat, something that only ever happens when he's in here.

He senses another person's arrival before he hears his footsteps on the stone, taking a second to rise and turn - his expression one of immediate recognition. ]

Good to see you again. [ He nods toward him, then motions at the base of the tree where he'd been kneeling. There appears another cushion, and the tray with its kettle and cups, never so hot that it burns the tongue. ] Please, sit. Sorry for the lack of actual chairs...

[ A faint, wry look and a shrug. He's never thought to actually make any in here, but then his few visitors have seemed fine to sit on the floor with him. ]

[godshattering]

You as well.

[ The smile crossing his face is genuine enough with only a tinge of wryness of his own, given they both know what's befallen both the Free Cities and Thorne at this point. He'd heard of the retaliation for what happened to Libertas, and it's been one of the many topics floating through his mind at any given moment since then. The kind of thing which causes escalations as each deals out more retributions, and with likely nothing any of them can do about it.

The apology for the lack of chairs turns that smile a bit more towards genuineness as he takes a seat on the one which he's assuming is for him based on it suddenly appearing. ]

I don't mind at all. This will almost certainly sound like a cliche, but I do enjoy getting to see how others host guests in their own domains. Seems like everywhere I've been to date has been different than the last, and that just means all the more to learn about each world in my book.

[ Opening the door to talk about each of their worlds, possibly, since Claude hasn't forgotten that would be part of this discussion. It doesn't need to happen immediately since he certainly doesn't mind talking about anything and everything first, and the same goes for if they don't get there at all. There aren't many conversations he'll turn down. In the meantime, his gaze falls on something else seemingly familiar. ]

Is tea popular where you're from as well? [ With one hand he gestures towards the tray. ] It is where I am, beyond it being something to offer to guests. Coffee's less so as it's always seemed to be more of a novelty.