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ABRAXAS MODS ([personal profile] abraxasmods) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs2022-10-15 10:14 am

EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Event #10 - Affliction

With tensions heavy across Abraxas and all the destruction that's happened, it's no surprise that the dark shadows which sweep over the land go unnoticed...at first.

Winds initially stir in Solvunn, where the influence of the Old Gods remains the strongest. Slowly each Herald infects Thorne and the Free Cities, as well. The Summoned are the first to feel its effects and are the most heavily impacted.

Though no one will realize it until well afterwards, Nocwich remains unaffected. After all, the Summoned don't reside there.

NOTE: This event will deal with themes of death (people and animal) and horror imagery.
Emergence
It begins sometime in mid-October, around the 18th. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterwards when you're visited by an unusually vivid dream.

The dream starts the same for everyone: you are going somewhere, anywhere, walking to your bedroom or enjoying a stroll on the beach. You might be driving down a familiar neighborhood. Wherever you're headed, you eventually come upon a stone tablet engraved with your Arcana. Laid on the tablet are three objects:
◎ A dead moth trapped inside a wilted rose, symbolizing Koth of Festering Lands
◎ A teacup inside which sits a single nightshade berry, symbolizing Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues
◎ An ornate cracked hand mirror that contains no reflection, symbolizing Sannleikr of Many Faces
Make a choice. Something inside your soul will be drawn towards one of the objects. Maybe you spend hours in the dream deliberating, but sooner or later, you'll pick one of the items up. The moment you do, the other objects vanish and the chosen Herald appears before you. Where one might expect a god to seek subservience, the strange figure instead extends a friendly hand towards you - as though it's greeting you as an equal.

Whispered around you, you hear its name. Then it fades and with it the dream. You awaken.
Affliction
You go about your day as usual. That's when you realize something isn't right. Creatures and people around you behave strangely. You begin to sense that you are the cause.

Depending on your chosen Herald, you'll experience at least one of its afflictions. The effects might start small, then grow. They might rush you all at once. You can't shake what haunts you, though you can try. Spells, potions, and willpower can help keep the afflictions at bay but you won't ever be completely free.

As the afflictions seep into your mind, you start to find shadows of it following you: a dead moth here, a nightshade bloom there, a cracked mirror elsewhere. You may even wonder if it's following you in the first place. What if instead, you are the one leaving these signs behind?
Corruption
The first time you inflict your ability on someone else, you don't mean to. It might be a stranger, some unsuspecting soul, or it might be another Summoned. Regardless, the afflictions that ail you seem to spread through you into another. Someone falls down as if in the throes of an invisible death or secrets spill. You brush by someone and they're suddenly upset and confused.

The more this happens, intentionally or not, the better you feel. You may grow full of life and energy, gain a renewed strength of heart, or radiate a charm that turns heads and garners compliments. The afflictions haunting you could even start to fade or completely vanish. And if you use your newfound power deliberately? You'll feel better even faster for longer. Of course, these boons are temporary, lasting at most an hour or so. When the feeling wanes, you might miss having it.

You are not possessed. You can't control this power that spreads through you, but how you respond or behave is up to you. You could be attracted to the allure of power, enjoy the boons you are granted, or realize you can gain relief from your afflictions if you choose a victim. Not everyone will fall headfirst into the pull. Some are not easily swayed by power, some struggle to overcome their dark impulses, and others would rather endure their suffering than inflict it on someone else. But others still might succumb to temptation and turn on those around them with purpose: once, twice, multiple times. The choice you make is yours alone.
Blight
With the call of the Herald at your fingertips, the world around you twists. No one knows whether this stems from you and your newly imbued afflictions, or if the Heralds are exerting power on their own. It's for sure easier to think of what occurs as the influence of something monstrous beyond your control. No matter the cause, the earth is changed all the same.
Omens
The omens arrive shortly after the initial Summoned receive their dreams, but they don't come to every faction at once. SOLVUNN is first, being home to the Old Gods' shrines, before THORNE and the FREE CITIES follow only days afterwards. Depending on where you are, the omens will affect things a bit differently.
Solvunn
In Solvunn, the ground stirs. A desiccated hand breaks through the grass, a cloven hoof. Human or animal, they crawl forth, animated against their will. Some might attack, but most do not. At the same time, crops around the settlements begin to fail. Some chickens lay rotten eggs while cows produce spoiled milk. Any livestock that perishes overnight will surface in the mornings with empty eye sockets - pecked out by crows or gnawed on by rats. From a distance, the ocean can be seen bubbling as leviathans beneath thrash.

Worth noting is that many of the dead are concentrated around the shrines, especially the ones deep in the woods. They're too decayed to recognize, and some might not even move from the site, as though they are waiting for the earth to take them again...or as though they once chose to give up their life at this very spot.

Summoned can assist by helping to cast spells or place warding charms around shrines, farms, and gardens to protect crops and livestock. As a commune, the Solvunnites will share their resources as much as possible and would appreciate those who might lend a hand bringing supplies, herbs, and offerings to neighbors who are lacking. The Summoned can also brew a common herbal remedy to aid any animals who have fallen ill or to help purify the well water.

Free Cities
In Libertas, the dead buried under the rubble dig themselves out. More crawl forth from graves in Cadens' cemeteries. Beasts and bandits slain in the desert wilds rise, hungry or searching for the ones who killed them. At the same time, dead fish wash up onto the shores of Aquila while birds fall dead from their perch, dropping like flies from an unknown illness. Vultures and other scavengers begin to prey upon the eyes of the dead, leaving behind hollowed-out corpses.

Worth noting is that in the Badlands, a few very old and skeletal corpses rise with a metal plate or two screwed onto their bones, which are also oddly elongated. Only one or two make their way near the city. The army is quick to dispose of them before many can notice. They will not disclose any information about this and will claim these are just monsters like anything else.

Summoned can assist by going on patrol with the soldiers to put down any risen dead. Merchant caravans are also hiring escorts for their journeys. Additionally, they can help look through any received supplies and packages to make sure the food isn't rotting or worse, use a special dissolving compound to purify the waters, and donate staple food items to refugees and the less fortunate who can't afford the rising prices.

Thorne
In Thorne, the dead emerge only from the outskirts of the castle city. Thanks to information from one of their Summoned and their recent monitoring of the Singularity, Thorne was able to act swiftly and was able to ward any royal or otherwise significant burial sites. Graves and tombs of less importance, though, will not be protected in the same way. There are fewer encounters with eyeless corpses, though some animals might appear outside the castle in such a state. Normally extravagant dishes from the Castle's kitchens use simpler ingredients as they struggle to ration their food stores.

Worth noting is that a few unexpected corpses make their way up from deep under the castle in places beyond the dungeons. These are twisted and mangled, missing limbs, heads, fingers. The castle guards are quick to dispose of them before they get too far into the rest of the castle, but one or two may be spotted.

Summoned can assist by contributing to the wards around Castle Thorne and the city, using spells to put down the dead without mangling the corpse, and taking inventory of food stores. Further, in Nott the situation is more dire for anyone who is traveling there to continue assisting with repairs following the attack. Nott will welcome help with any problems caused by the omens. It'll be clear the kingdom has neglected the city somewhat. Thorne will claim the Castle takes priority, of course, due to King and Queen residing there along with the entire royal court.
Apprehensions
Across the factions, locals are beginning to catch on that something isn't right with you, the Summoned. No one will say it outright, but there's an air of caution and wariness around you where you go. Merchants might be quick to hand you your wares so you'll leave or locals give you a bit of space when they walk by. Chatty innkeepers are more reluctant to hold lengthy conversations.

Much of the time, it may not be conscious. The natives might simply sense something off that instinctually makes them want to put some distance between them and you. The only exception? If you've chosen Sannleikr of Many Faces, you'll continue to exude your charm towards people you encounter. At least for as long as you continue to inflict that ability you've been gifted.
Displacement
Everyone responds differently while in the Horizon. You might exert better willpower over your afflictions or you might feel its effects more strongly. It all depends on the individual and their mindset. Regardless, the Heralds are only one part of the equation. There's a much bigger disturbance going on.

It could happen as soon as you enter or it might be as you're stepping over the threshold into another's domain. Whatever the case, you are suddenly not where you're supposed to be. Instead, you're in one of two places depending: transported into a domain you never meant to go into or in a foreign setting altogether.
Visitation
Whether you're the one transported or someone teleports unexpectedly into your space, the Horizon becomes unpredictable for the next little while. Rooms normally locked to strangers, areas you yourself may not even realize exists - you and your fellow Summoned continue to pop in and out despite your intentions.

The effect isn't painful, just disorienting, like missing a step you didn't see or stumbling through a door into a too-bright room. The person whose domain you've inadvertently visited might sense an unwanted presence, whether they're inside the Horizon or not, or they may be completely oblivious. This will depend on the strength of their connection to the Singularity and the Horizon.

Not to worry. You won't be trapped or anything in these cases...unless the domain you land in happens to seal from the inside. You might stumble on secrets you weren't meant to find, though, locked away in someone else's mind.
Ensnared
The less fortunate will be pulled into a space that they've never encountered before. The bizarreness of it resembles the glitchy visions that flashed through a few months ago, but rather than an image flickering by, you are now inside the space itself.

Trapped between minutes to hours, you can't use the Horizon's creation magic as normal. Attempts will falter or go sideways: trying to fly out might cause you to tumble, tools and objects are broken or not quite right, wounds don't vanish or heal completely, etc. More significantly, you can't seem to send or receive messages through your connection. Anything that manages to come through will be garbled and distorted. It's as though the place you are in is just out of the reach of your control.

Luckily, you may not be alone. Someone else may have gotten lost alongside you. They might already be there when you stumble through or they might arrive after you do. They might even fade out sooner than you, unintentionally leaving you behind.

Eventually, you'll be released back into the Horizon proper, spat out in a random place in the Horizon. While you're stuck, though, you can try to survive, explore, sit and wait it out, or make friends with your fellow trapped partner. Each area has its challenges and quirks that you'll need to deal with.

Scenes to Explore
JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

High in the clouds, these snowy peaks are as cold as they look. Giant marble hands reach out, though their sheer scale means you might not recognize them as hands from up close. You can scale the mountain, but if you try to go down, the hands will flip the mountain, which sends you tumbling to the top again.

It's up to you whether you can be injured when you fall. Maybe the snow will feel like marshmallows, or you'll break a bone on the jagged rocks. No two experiences are the same. If you have a partner, they could end up faring better than you despite being in the same place.

Conjure some warm clothes or a log cabin even if you wish - they might not manifest perfectly, but it'll be better than nothing. At least the view's fairly nice...while the sun is up. A blizzard will come through by nightfall. With it arrives a strange hovering light that entices you or your friend to follow it into the frozen darkness. What draws you out depends on you. It could be a familiar voice, an image, or a simple compulsion. If you're lucky, the person with you is unaffected and can try to stop you. Or maybe you're the one desperately chasing after the other person?

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

From a distance, it's hard to tell if they're shipping containers or houses stacked atop each other. A gooey mess covers the ground below. Oddly, the smell isn't as unpleasant as the goo looks. It smells like bubblegum or cotton candy, artificial and sweet. When you first fall in, you might land inside one of the homes, on top of the stacked structure, or the ground. You can try to reach anyone else who's there with you, but be careful: the ooze is spreading. Climb if you must or move from room to room. If you don't keep moving, you risk getting sucked into its sticky mass.

Each block of a home is different. Some are furnished, whereas others are empty or filled with strange knickknacks. Some might even have subconscious creations spawned by you. Keep ahead of the gloopy substance, and you'll be fine, probably. Or you can try to fight it back or block its path by sealing yourself in a room or otherwise, which can slow it down significantly. Mostly, you'll have to hope you fade out before the pink mass completely consumes the landscape.

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

The hazy neon glow obscures a nothingness that seems to extend forever. In the middle of the wet ground are several stacked television sets with wires plugged into nothing. Inexplicably, there's also a cat. At first, it appears perfectly normal, but keen observers will notice that its behavior is on a loop where it will walk a certain path, pause at specific intervals to lick its paws, and meow at set points. It does not acknowledge any of its intruders. You can break its loop by picking it up, at which point it'll go limp as a ragdoll. As soon as you set it down, it'll resume its actions as before.

While you can see the same images as someone else on the screens, it's also possible you'll each see something different despite being in the room together. What you see is up to you. It could be an old fuzzy movie, home videos of your childhood, trivia questions you have to answer correctly, or even a memory or vision you wouldn't want to share. Words or faces taunting you could appear between staticky flickers, or maybe your very thoughts are projected onto the screens for anyone with you to read.

Break the televisions if you want, but given a few short minutes, they'll reform between one blink and the next. Looks like you'll have to keep watching until you're released.

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

Sprawling and massive, you're unlikely to recognize at first that you're trapped in a labyrinth. Stone walls rise around you, and your surroundings are pitchblack. Manifest a torch or a flashlight if you can, though these will be prone to going out at inopportune times. Escaping over the walls will only send you into another section in the maze.

As you navigate the twisting corridors, you'll encounter any variety of trials and troubles: gaps in the ground, spiked traps, haunting whispers, monsters, decaying corpses. Some of these might've formed from your mind, others might've spawned from anyone else who's trapped with you.

If you aren't alone, do your best to locate your fellow Summoned. Voices do carry and echo over the walls, and there could be landmarks that help you find each other. Finding the exit, however, is another matter. Walk and climb all you want. A way out is impossible until the Horizon chooses to set you free.

Players can pick any scenario that interests them from the four choices above. Unlike the visions from before, characters can accidentally be trapped in as many of the scenes as you want, as many times as you want. Another option is that they can stay trapped in only one scene while a variety of characters fade in and out to join them, or some combination of the two. Choose what works best for your plans.

Each scene will once again carry an associated Arcana etched somewhere inside it, which can change from person to person or instance to instance. It might be on a wall, a table, or on the ground. Characters with a stronger connection to the Horizon are likely to be trapped for longer but the extent of this is your choice and it won't ever exceed a few hours. It's also your choice whether the afflictions continue to haunt them or not. If you want characters to deal with both problems while stuck together, you're welcome to!

Generally speaking, there are no restrictions other than that they won't be able to communicate with anyone outside the area, they can't escape it until the Horizon chooses to release them, and their creation magic will go wrong just enough that it'll make things tricky.
tobeclosetohim: (by the selfish things that you did)

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-19 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
Jo had jerked back from the one near her, seeing it coming out at her chest before noticing it was the rest of the area. But not catching those bits yet, she'd missed entirely the one that lanced up from behind her half in the wall. She hisses sharply at the score it lands across one shoulder, and it's ducking down slightly, with her hand going there—thin, shallow, just a surprise, just a graze, a fucking little miracle.

She learns fast and doesn't rebound through movement this time. Her fingers are touched red, but it's not deep enough to matter. Only lace into the annoyance already there under her skin, as she starts making it Geralt's way far more carefully, aiming to see if she can keep the fire from touching any of the now far too protruding metal. She'd rather not learn the hard way it reacts to everything that touches it that isn't air.

The question comes even as she's navigating between two that she's just slim up to slide sideways between without touching. "Let me guess—" It's to him, to the spears, and to the life of her that can't not bounce back, even if it's just all in a cloud of judgemental noise. "—one person just happens to fall on one them wrong, and not lift fast enough, and everyone in here is a shishkabob suddenly."

It doesn't help matters that she's pretty sure the further they get, the walls?
They seem closer together, rather than standing their same distance.
gynvael: (024)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-19 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
His gaze snaps back to make sure she's not spiked clean through. He can smell blood, though her reaction tells him the wound is shallow. Something that can be dealt with after they're out of this damn mess.

He exhales, pushing past the spikes as best he can. Could he conjure some armour? Perhaps, but with how fucked creating anything has been, he'd rather earn a few scratches. Or. A lot of scratches. It's fine. She's right at least: unintentional or no, triggering it was the safer option. One misstep would've skewered them otherwise.

He sees it, too. The walls. Narrowing as they press forward. A hiss as a barbed shaft scrapes a chunk out of his arm. It's irritating more than painful—and he can't say he wants to be leaving trails of blood around this place. For him, it's not a matter of how careful he is. He can't do shit about the width of his shoulders.

He steps slow. The problem is, nothing here is real. Things morph and change, and it means his hearing, his senses, can only predict so much.

Something that's especially clear when he edges too close to one of the narrowing walls and—without an ounce of warning—has about a hair's breadth to duck a spike that shoots out from the side. He throws a hand up on instinct, catches the tip in his palm. Fuck. He yanks his hand back with a wet squelch.

"Keep center." His eyes lift upwards. Are there ceiling spikes? He's aware one cannot perish in the Horizon, in theory, but he also doesn't want to test that while everything's...twisted.
tobeclosetohim: (But I'll never better)

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-19 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
She did not sign up to be a burglar. Lines, duck dodging, and constantly contorting into a different shape to slip past these things are annoying. Balancing where any and all of the spikes are coming from in every direction. Sticking to wherever there's enough space to get both feet and precarious shifting balance from one foot to the other foot around clusters of spikes where she can't.

If they weren't razor, she'd consider some gymnastic climbing of them, but Geralt gives a grunt up there, and that's just her point, isn't it? He's shaking a hand dripping blood, and Jo only calls out, "Are the walls actually getting closer? Are you going to fit up there?"

What. It's a sensible question. If the walls kept moving in up there, and Geralt can't, she's moving in the wrong direction. Though she's already well into the idea, there is not a right direction anywhere in this place.
familysucks: (08)

[personal profile] familysucks 2022-10-19 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
[His siblings would have been equally doubtful about the prospect of Michael ever making friends. Michael, however, has been out of his element ever since he first stepped outside of Heaven. His arrival in Abraxas and everything since are just another series of unforseen events in a long line of surprises. The unexpected has become the norm.

Directness is one thing he appreciates in Wanda's speech, even if her answer is not the solution one might have hoped for. It's not her fault Solvunn is unstable.]


So long as they aren't doing any harm, then I suppose it's worth the time of putting them out.

Does this sort of disruption happen often?

[She's been here longer than he has. Maybe she has past experience with this kind of thing.

As he speaks, Michael reaches beneath an outer garment and fishes out the little handful of charms he'd been given. Most of them had looked to represent simple animals, round and well-fed. Others, he hadn't recognized the forms of. He drops them in her hand without the same ceremony they'd been presented to him.]
princessvegas: (175. all her clothes are on the floor)

[personal profile] princessvegas 2022-10-19 04:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ Steven's head -- along with all the associated void wisps and eyeballs -- tilts to one side, as if he can't exactly figure out why Kyle is upset. Perhaps he should have had the drink ready in hand instead of asking. The glass and rag he holds are set down gently on the bar. ]

All right, if you're sure. I'll be certain to let her know. [ He raises a hand and gives a jolly little wave. Like he just genuinely doesn't know anything is wrong.

The other people watch him go, their expressions blank, at least where visible. The overhead lights flicker just the tiniest bit. No one says anything else. ]


[ The sensation of being watched begins to ebb, and Julie dares lower her hands from her head. There hadn't been noise, she's not sure why she covered her ears, except that it wasn't just the feeling of being watched. It was the feeling of being close to someone else, close enough to hear breathing or heartbeats. But there's no one else to be seen anywhere at all, let alone right on top of her. She realizes she's breathing hard, that her jaw is clenched.

Slowly, she rises and begins to walk back to her chair, her senses on high alert. ]
gynvael: (mg: 001)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-19 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
It is, in fact, an extraordinarily sensible question. Geralt squints into the distance. Tries to gauge if he can.

"Stay there."

There is no right direction, but there's no reason for her to follow at his heel if he's going to end up wedged between these fucking walls. The walls are closing in, but they aren't moving. Yet. He's time to reach the end, see if he can even slip through. So that's what he does. Just moves, ignoring the blood dripping down his hand. The end is so tapered, he can't even tell what lies beyond it. Maybe nothing until they step through.

He fits. Barely. Part of him half-expects another spike to nail him through the eye, but he forces himself through with a dozen more rips in his skin. He curses. Yeah. All right. She should make it intact. Provided no further surprises await them.

He flexes his fingers. "Clear."
familysucks: (04)

[personal profile] familysucks 2022-10-19 06:30 am (UTC)(link)
One of those many doors throughout the bunker leads into a room that's not supposed to be there. The lighting within is foggy and dim, the edges of the room lost somewhere behind the purple and magenta haze—and the way out is quick to disappear along with those borders.

Michael had not intended to visit this space any more than Castiel has. The stack of old televisions holds his attention for a moment, some of the footage that's playing appearing familiar to him, but he's quick to recognize the presence of another angel.

His head snaps towards Castiel the moment he steps through the threshold, his eyes narrowing. He's been haunted by visions of the dead for near on a week now, but none of those phantoms had felt quite so present.

"Castiel. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

He casts a wary glance towards the other's hands. Though Castiel is as prone to disastrous decision-making as the rest of his younger siblings are when left without guidance, experience has proven it's a mistake to dismiss him. Castiel is both capable and brazen. There are very few in Heaven who would have had the nerve to talk back to him, let alone show him the kind of disrespect Castiel has in the past.
cointosser: ([039])

Jaskier | The Sun | The Free Cities | Adelwyrd

[personal profile] cointosser 2022-10-19 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
[open/closed starters below. plotting comment can be found here if you have anything you wanna throw at me! I can add more closed starters. Moglad will be at Jaskier's domain for interaction as well!]
Edited 2022-10-19 07:07 (UTC)
cointosser: ([133 - S2])

closed to geralt. emotions time.

[personal profile] cointosser 2022-10-19 07:22 am (UTC)(link)
You are not welcome here, Master Jaskier. You are not... not right, kupo!

[In any other moment, perhaps the moogle would have looked comical riding a tiny flying mount, black, dangerous-looking armor encasing his small, round frame, with his greatsword drawn, hanging to one side in both paws.]

What on earth are you talking about, Moglad? [Jaskier stares down the moogle who has become his closest creation in the Horizon, but the moogle does not waver. And seeing the dark, pulsing glow of his pom rests something deep and cold in Jaskier's bones. Something that tells him this is wrong.

Moglad's steed gives a warning snort. Look what you did, kupo. He gestures to Bleobheris behind them, with its trunk growing dark, like black ash, and the leaves having turned a muddy brown. Around them litter their corpses, along with abandoned, rotting peacock feathers. You're hurting them.

Jaskier takes a step towards Bleobheris, towards Moglad at its base, with a strangled apology in his throat. But why should he have to? Bleobheris is his, and so is Moglad. And he's never... he's never felt this...

Moglad lifts his sword, standing on the back of his horse as she flies through the air, stamping her hooves on nothing. Leave, Jaskier. I don't want to hurt you, kupo.

Can you? he thinks at the same time as I don't want to hurt you, either. But he hesitates too long, and Moglad's greatsword raises through the air --

Jaskier does not recall how he gets anywhere, only that he is running, and Singularity watches him with his panting heart and cold blood with omnipotent indifference. Where Jaskier steps, he's afraid to look down. Knowing that, with every print of his boots, there grow tangles of horrid purple flowers, petals expanding as black and green berries grow heavy and fall.

And he does not look up, knowing the wisps have turned into moths, feasting on the life in Bleobheris.

When he finally stops, when he can't breathe anymore, he falls to the ground, curled over his knees. His nails dig into soil as the nightshade blooms underneath his hands, staining the soil with the juice of its berries.

He can leave. He can go back to the baker, Kol -- he has not left Kol's bakery all week without feeling this surge in him, as Kol works harder, his hands covered in bruises and wounds that grow deeper by the day --

Jaskier doesn't know how long he sits there, his head in his hands, kneeling as the nightshade grows and blooms and fruits, hearing Moglad's words. You're hurting them. And he cannot wake up.

Bleobheris rots, but these flowers grow without any effort. Toxic. Eager.]
Edited 2022-10-19 07:30 (UTC)
ofthesword: (--045)

OTA. the horizon.

[personal profile] ofthesword 2022-10-19 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
[With his head already distracted with not only corralling the recently rotting dead and the most desiccated animals he's ever seen in his life, Nero's not really focused on making sure his place in the Horizon's in tip-top shape. Not that he's ever put a ton of effort into it, because it's mostly crafted itself without his input.

Unconscious desires, he bets Wanda would say. On the astral plane. Got it.

But if the place is important, and they're connected to it, then whatever curse is digging deep into the land and making people real fuckin' insistent on touching him could be affected something in there, too.

He only means to give it a peek.

As he falls into the Horizon, opening his eyes to the expanse of it, all seems relatively normal. His van" sits silent, only the electronic buzzing of the Devil May Cry sign indicating any life. Not even cigarette smoke coils out the van's windows -- but there's a smell like burning flesh.

Nero frowns, walking up closer. His fingers itch for Red Queen, and he holds his hand out for her --

Something attempts to form, but it crumbles up into dust. For a moment, it looks like a spear, tipped with blood. He clicks his tongue with a tch, fingers curling into a fist.]


All right, pussycat. I don't got time for games. [He peers into the van, nearly hitting his head on the roof. Did it get smaller? What the fuck?] Hey, where the fuck'd you go?

[The black panther that he's only almost gotten used to doesn't appear inside the van. Not in her usual form, at least. As he steps back out, looking around, Nero finally sees the shadow of the van itself ebbing. Growing.

The engine breaks the silence with a roar, then turns over. Maybe if he wasn't what he was, even Nero would feel a moment of trepidation. Him and darkness that deep, that lightless, that black -- let's just say it brings up bad memories.]
Don't you even think about it.
cointosser: ([111 - S2])

OTA. the horizon, sans one bard.

[personal profile] cointosser 2022-10-19 07:54 am (UTC)(link)
[Whether a new visitor or a warmly welcomed returner, Bleobheris does not greet them as warmly as it once did. The Great Oak's roots still dig as deep and wide, taking over the glade around it, but all of the artists that one flocked around its base have vanished. Half-formed paintings lay in their easels, balls of yarn unwound and fraying amoung brown, dry grass. What looks to be the shredded shards of a broken lute scatter around a boulder, smashed to pieces.

Worse still, the air smells as smoke.

The brightly colored insects that once flit through Bleobheris's leaves are gone, replaced by the rare glimpse of grey moths, which feast upon the oak's decaying trunk. The leaves that still cling to its branches range from reds to browns, in various states of death.

In the distance, the scream of the horses. The sun has vanished from Jaskier's usually sunny domain, and only heavy, dark clouds hover nearby.

The denizens of his domain are far from calm. The horses can be heard stomping, snorting, and the goldfinch is nowhere to be found, her nest empty. Perhaps you'll venture too close to the entrance of Bleobheris's trunk and be met with the launched body of a white peacock, screaming and pecking, scratching with his claws.

But only if the oak's main protector is occupied. To any visitor sensed approaching, a moogle clad in dark armor upon a flying steed will block their way, a greatsword strapped to his back, his expression grim.]
Who are you, kupo? Why are you here? Master Jaskier is gone, and he cannot greet you.

[For a moment, Moglad will stop there, but he will look back at Bleobheris and the pom atop his head will wilt.] But is it right to make them leave, kupo...? What should I do...?
gynvael: (178)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-19 07:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Only once did Geralt visit Bleobheris. He left the moment the wisps morphed into ash-grey moths, the grass around the great tree dying. Should've known, really. There's too much life in Bleobheris for him to exist in it as he is, and the last thing he wants is to bring more death and horror into Jaskier's life.

The room inside Dean's bunker feels safest. There's no life there, nothing that can turn on him. It's wood and steel, buried underground. When he isn't searching for Julie, that is where he's retreated. Thinking. Trying to consider what to do next. (Making effort to keep himself together, so many of his memories and thoughts overbearing.)

With every option exhausted, there remains one thing left: the Singularity. She holds a connection to it. So perhaps...it will know where she may be. He recalls what she said about how the others had heard nothing. Static. Geralt suspects he may be the same. Witchers are not known for their deep connection to Chaos. Jaskier, though. Jaskier is as close to replicating Julie's experience with magic as he knows it: merely human until this world granted him power he took to like a fish to water.

It's a hunch. A guess at best. But he wants to try it.

Geralt takes his motorbike, not Roach, unwilling to handle anything living, breathing. It rumbles along the Horizon—circling around until he pulls up in front of Bleobheris. He expects Jaskier inside it, same as ever. He had seemed all right in the physical world, after all. Unaffected.

Instead, Moglad is shouting. Jaskier is on his knees. Geralt hops off the bike, crouching beside his friend, worry etched into his brows. He touches the bard's shoulder. The smell of nightshade fills the air. Crushed berries stain the earth. ]


Jaskier. Are you hurt?
cointosser: ([132 - S2])

cw: gore

[personal profile] cointosser 2022-10-19 08:06 am (UTC)(link)
[The roar of some unknown fiend is the only thing that pulls him from this well he's falling into. You're hurting them, Moglad said, but he doesn't know what it means -- but he does --

But does he care? Isn't that what truly matters?

Jaskier jerks his head up as the sound cuts off abruptly, staring up with cloudy eyes that take a moment longer to recognize Geralt. There is nothing unusual, he thinks, about Geralt touching him. But somehow he feels a weight behind it.]


No. Why would I be? [He looks down at his hands. There's nothing there but the stains of the nightshade berries, a smear of black and purple. Nothing like blood --

Jaskier coughs, choking, pulling from Geralt's hand. And when he looks down, staining over the berry juice is blood, pouring out of his mouth, and when he breathes he hears the whistle of holes in his lungs. His shoulders. He looks down and there: a hole, blasted through his stomach, pushing a misshapen, pale organ out. Another hole: a glimpse of bone stained red, the wet flash of white fat. Skin scoured red from the heat of the magic setting off.

There's no shield to protect him this time. The blast cuts through him, through his body, leaving holes thick as spears. The nightshade surrounding him all stand at attention, reaching up as if they'll grab onto Geralt --

And all at once they die, curling, black as the berries they'd dropped. Still.]
sorser: (pic#15218274)

[personal profile] sorser 2022-10-19 01:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Her hands will glide across the lumpiness of his shoulder blades, given that Stephen's somehow disoriented himself enough in this blasted place to have fallen face-down onto the ground when she collided into him. It's not his finest moment, but he hasn't been having a lot of those lately, and while his cloak is kind enough to help a familiar face that isn’t him, the sorcerer mutters into the ground—]

...Wanda.

[Deadpan, vaguely pained. Their usual exchange of greetings.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t want to push himself up just yet, because despite the dread that is coiling up in his stomach, right now, there is a more immediate problem:]


Your knee's pushing into my back.

[Please… remove it.]
shadowthief: (Shoulder glance)

{Got demons in my orbit » Emergence » Cadens, Horizon

[personal profile] shadowthief 2022-10-19 03:05 pm (UTC)(link)
i. affliction

— OTA {Cadens} —

The dream took a few days to find its way to her and when it did, she found herself unnerved, or maybe... on edge is the better phrase. The mirror had called to her, and that was the only way she knew to think of it, a call, a siren's song she could not ignore. The patterns of the fractured glass making fractals of her face reflected back to her.

Inej is no fortune teller, but she knows that dreams can hold so much meaning, could be portents of things to come, so she couldn't ignore it, even in her waking moments. Harder still is the way she keeps catching glances of her reflection that looks... wrong, somehow. Twisted and misshapen, like there are too many bones in her cheeks. Or perhaps not enough? The edges blurred or smeared to nearly unrecognizable levels.

At other times, she might seem distracted. She keeps seeing flutters of movement just outside the edge of her vision. Catching reflections of a tall, gorgeous blonde woman, elegant silks and a diamond choker at her neck. Perhaps she runs into you on her way out of Mag's Inn, or you catch her hiding from the ghost of her former keeper.


ii. corruption

— OTA {Cadens/Horizon} —

• Feel free to hmu or wildcard if you want anything with her affliction ability (where their touch or presence causes someone nearby to become unable to recognize familiar souls)
Edited 2022-10-19 16:51 (UTC)
shadowthief: (Saints)

{A prayer like thunder in your veins » Blight » Cadens, Horizon

[personal profile] shadowthief 2022-10-19 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
i. omens

— OTA {Cadens} —
The dead have risen and Inej is not okay.

Some are violent, others are wandering lost, and still others seem to be stuck in some sort of loop in a single moment. All of them are unnatural in a way she cannot reconcile. Attacking the dead goes against everything in her beliefs, so she tries to avoid them. That doesn't mean she doesn't run into one of the lifeless bodies shambling around, though. Perhaps you find her with one of the more aggressive ones?

— Michael {horizon}—
It's in the wake of the living dead, Inej escapes into the Horizon. It's almost natural at this point, if she isn't going to her own domain, to head toward Kyle's temple, twin statues towering far above her.

She kneels at the base of the large, iron tree and desperately calls to Sankt Demyan. She prays for safety for her friends and herself, for sanctuary for the dead. The prayers are almost frantic, and bone-deep in their sincerity. It's ardent and it's loud.
Edited 2022-10-19 18:03 (UTC)
shadowthief: (Doubt your face)

{Running through the maze, hope I don't trip » The Horizon

[personal profile] shadowthief 2022-10-19 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
i. Wrong domain




— OTA —
(A) Want to accidentally end up in Inej's domain? Wildcard me something!


i. trapped together



— OTA —
(A) Explore in the deadly blizzard in the mountains with her [Limit: 1 thread]
(B) She can walk into your screen-room of memories/secrets [Limit: up to 3 threads]

— Wilhelm —
It was the Horizon. Or... it was supposed to be the Horizon. That was her intention, but this isn't anything familiar to her at all. Stone walls tower far above her, and hundreds of whispered voices carried on the wind overlap each other, the sounds seeming to come from every direction at once.

She doesn't know how long she's been wandering. It felt like hours, it must have been. She'd grown tired of running into dead-ends, and eventually climbed up the side of one the walls around her. Up, up, up, having to pause and cling to the rock for breaks once or twice, until she finally reached the wide, flat top of it.

It's from there she realized what it was: A maze, stretching too far and too wide to see any end to. Anyone could be hidden among the jagged lines of the towering walls. "Hello?" she called out as she picked a line to follow for awhile. At least dead-ends up top would be easier to reroute. "Is anyone out there?"
Edited 2022-10-19 18:30 (UTC)
carmesi: <user name="berks"> (276)

[personal profile] carmesi 2022-10-19 04:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[she gathers as much, from that dig, and it's — unfair. there's only so much matt has been willing to share with her, little by little, and it's not from a lack of trying from her part; he shuts her out most of the time.

it's not fair. hasn't she been trying her best? maybe, after everything she's done, it really isn't enough.

the television sets switch on one more time. hayward is there, tells her that's just it; he's not yours. and i cannot let you put three billion dollars worth of vibranium in the ground. her eyes inch upward, past matt, towards the visage of vision.

lifeless, without a soul. gone forever.

i can't feel you.

and that emptiness floods again. maybe it was foolish to think she'd ever be able to have something similar again; it certainly must be, to have thought herself deserving of someone who could understand her, who wanted to look at her without fearing her.

i want them to see you the way i see you, vision appears on the screen, states it so matter of factly, how unafraid he is of her, of all her potential for good. after all she's done... matt is right. she's a killer, she's taken innocent lives because of her selfish desires.

the thought ricochets in her mind, of monica telling her to not let hayward make her the villain, but she's definitely gone past that.

perhaps matt should have killed the man who killed his father, but the fact is that he didn't, even if this woman, elektra, someone he loves (because it is love what she's felt from him when he thinks of her, much as she's been trying to not pry and think too much about that) had asked him to.]


You're right.

[she says, mirthlessly.]

Maybe you should have.

[wanda's scarlet magic glows under the palms of her hands, and she switches off the television sets, breaking their circuitry, her magic pushing back at any regeneration that may take place. that's enough, she thinks, and she struggles against the magic of this place, but holds fast.]

You're right. About everything else.

[vision understood her like no one else, and now — he's gone. she became the monster others would fear. she doesn't look at matt as one of her hands turn to him, magic pulsing outward to wrap around him.]

I'll get you out of here, and you — won't need to worry about me anymore.

[if this is how he really feels, how he really thinks about her, then it's best to not waste energy on her at all.]
Edited 2022-10-19 16:31 (UTC)
godshattering: (pic#15894892)

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-19 05:08 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm alright, I promise, but you don't have to look if it's upsetting. I also promise I won't take it personally.

[ Still a bit of light teasing, like there's a chance he'll be seriously wounded by a lack of eye contact. (He won't.) Claude's had his own share of hallucinations lately and he's not eager to repeat them. If only. Being able to recognize Wanda as who she really is and not another face he doesn't want to see is a good thing.

It's her reaching for him and then reversing the action which makes him remember: he shouldn't touch anyone either. Somewhere, deep in the distance, there's a laugh which matches that voice that'd called to him in the dream, and Claude resists the urge to shudder. Better to not make Wanda think it's some kind of reaction to her and not what... whatever this is which dwells in them both. ]


I haven't heard about seeing death yet. It sounds- well, it sounds like the nightmares, almost. [ He's not going any deeper into that than he has to; Wanda will know what he means, he thinks. And not just the death in her dream, but also in his. ] Do you think this could be the Singularity again?

[ They've been given a puzzle where the picture isn't printed on the pieces, and while no one's asked them to solve it there's a part of Claude's mind which can never avoid wanting to jam those pieces together regardless. That's not as important as glancing over Wanda's shoulder towards what looks like a cabin, something that'll at least keep them out of the cold. ]

C'mon, let's go inside before either of us get covered in any more snow. Being out of the wind will help until we can figure out what to do.

an accidental visitor;

[personal profile] lackingtalent 2022-10-19 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[He knew not where he was going, but that was so often the case with the Singularity. On his travels, various places, settings, and worlds would rush by as he would delve further- further and further until a destination materialized.

Normally.

This trip appears to be somewhat of a different experience for the traveler. For each of the myriad settings would all lead back to the same place. Different routes would be taken, of course. It was almost as if a wheel would spin, but once more, he would find himself back within a strange land, with terracotta-colored buildings haphazardly lining greenish blue water, strange, arched bridges that appear, to him, sized for children, and walkways too small for his gait.

It is perhaps the third time that he has made his return that he is addressed.
He looks around. And then, he looks down.

Ah.

A person in miniature as so often appears the case within other peoples' horizons. And poor Claude. For he, in turn, would see a man impossibly tall- almost as tall as the buildings themselves- cloaked in what appears to be gloom- an expressionless mask angled right at him, shrouded within the waves upon waves of darkness the early afternoon's sunlight cannot pierce.

A man, by all accounts, who lacks a face. As well as a grasp on his language.
]

H̵͕̲̠̪̑̈́̐̿̆͐̕̕̚͝ͅe̸̞̮͛̿͊̽̐̇̃̓́̊ĺ̷͍̻̖̲͍͔̉̇́͊ͅl̸̼̘̭̻̜͖̭̟̟̼̑͌̆̔́͗̈͗o̸̪̠͍̖͂̈́̆͛̑͗̋̌̈ͅ!̸̺̌͝ ̷̢̟̪̥͍͙̥̜͉́̾̔͑ͅÏ̶̜̀͘ ̵͙͕̳̲̣̣͊h̵̲͇̳̪̜̗̣̟͋͌̿͑͗̆̋̕o̸͉̙͒͝p̸̧̨̛̗̪̥̫̼̲̂̀͛͊ͅe̶͉̗͕̓̏ ̴̧̛͔̤̟̬͉̭̞͉̻̆Í̸͈͑́̏̈̍̃͒̐̔ ̴̧̛͇̹͋̓͛͂͋̇̂̌h̶̭͕͚̠̠̉̽̾a̶͉͈̽̐̃̀̈͒v̶̦͇͍̼̣͍̎̊͐̚ę̴͙̤̹͈͕̈̆ͅ ̷̲̄͗̾̈̿̌̈́͌̿͘n̵̨͕̝̙̟̐͌͊̅͌͒͌̚o̶̳̜̣͉̞̥̗̍̋̚͜͝t̶̞͍́̓̈̾̏͑̄͘͠ͅ ̸̼̻̤͕͔͖̘̖̋͗̍͌̄̚͜ş̴̢̹̤̟̼̭͉͆̂͌ṫ̸̰̼̱͕͖͐́̑a̷̡̼̟̦̮̘̖̭̍́̿̋̽̚͠ͅr̶͎̹̰̠̹͊̓͂̓̌̄́ṭ̸̡͊͝l̷̢̨͎͖̼̄̋̀̌̎̈̆̈̉͛ë̴̛̯̟̟̲̬̣́̑͒̄̀d̷̡̲̜̠͔̗̯͙́̊͌̑͜ ̸̰̬̼̠͍̻̱̜̖͖̋̒̉̉y̵̢̋̆͊̋͝o̴̘̮͒̃̀͗̄̀̄̎̆u̷͖̱̘͎̝͔͍̙̔̎̈́̐̔͗̎̃͠.̶͍̎̀̈́́͌̕̚͝ ̸̨̣͎̰͕̥͓̩̀̎̽͗͒͘Ǐ̴̧̧̲̟̜̯̋̓̂̀͝ ̷̨̝͎̻̗̙̠̼̻̄̇̋̽̽͜͝ă̷͇̤̮̘͖͗̅͐̆͜͠͠m̶̬͇̯̗̈́́̾̅͘͜ ̶̢̺͕̘͈̖͉̠̫̣̈́l̶̨̧̻̲͒̐o̷̢̬̥̺̭̟̣̐̊̃́o̸̲͇͉͒̿̂̚͝k̴̪͈͛̒̐͋̂̅̈́̾̌̕ị̵̛͕͎͔͈̯̒̂̽͑̊͘̚ņ̷̧̣̜͎̦̥̜̗̙̈͗̐̽͗͌̉͠ğ̸̢̖̯̜͓͙̙̫̝̏͝ ̸̜̪̏̍̋͠f̵̢͈͈͇̭͎͍͕̘͓̉̅̓͆̒͘ơ̸̛̼͍͙͍͇̦͙̼̯͌̎̐̀́̓͌ȑ̵͍̄̂͋͆̔̐́͐͑ ̶̛̲̺͓͖̦̃͛̒͌̾a̴̛̛͚͛̌̓̐͆n̵͈͇͕̮͔̿͊͌̿̅́̇͘̚͠ ̵̛̰̯̘͉͈̩͚͉̦̉̄͒̀̅́ë̸̯̱̗̳̦́͒͒x̶̨̧̦͉͓̖͚̭̱͘̚͠i̶̬͙͎͓̝̳̽̔̎̽̀͜t̴̥̄̓͑̉̄̎́͝,̴͎̦̞̯̫͛̇̓̅͝ ̵̱̝͛́̌̐͛̈́̚͝b̵͓̘̖̩͖͋̊́ų̸̘̣͖̟͈̄͒t̴͈̜̲̲͎͕͚̤͑̔̐̑̒̊ ̴̢̙̺̘̙̝̩̻̣̉Ȋ̸̖̖͔̱̫͈͚̌͐̏̿͋͘ ̵̛̬̫͇̈́̒̓̏͛́̒̀͘͜t̸͈͈͗̍̄̌̎͋͑̓ĥ̵̭͍͐͒͆̕͝ḭ̷̠͖͗̊̆́ń̴̬̲̭̤̓k̷̡͇̙͙̮̩̪̠̈́̑̔͌ͅ ̶̡̢̩͎̤̝̣̓̾̒̇͜͝y̸͕̗͛̆̎͂̈́̓̾͑o̸͈͇̣̻̅͋͐̈͗ṷ̸̤̙̂͒̍̍̒̈́͒̀͝ ̵̡̳͎̙̤̈́̓͐̀͐́̀̾̚ņ̵̡̗̜͉̝̤̿̓ͅo̶̺̯̩͎͜͝ţ̷̮̞͎̥̯͖̅̓̋̑̕ ̵̢̘̳͊͆̏̎l̵̼͂̊̆̃̂̑̊̏̐̾ȋ̴͕̭̭̗̒̾̚ḱ̶̡͛͠e̵̯̥̒͆́͜ ̷̢͓̝͕̝̘̓̈́̈́́͑̆̓͊̑ẗ̶̞͍̰̰̝͒̋̓͋̾͐o̴̖̍̈́̀͊̆ ̷̨̺̳̗̳̃̐u̶̯̘͈̼͈̤͚̭̻̻͗͋͋̈̽n̵̢͔̜͔̪͝d̷̡̟̼͉̳̻̮͎̯̆e̵̻̥̱͔̻̭͙̙̅̊̓͐͘͜͜r̶̫̘͎͎̯̻͖̻͚̹͋̀́͌̃͠͝s̵̻̦͚̖̬̮͔̜͇̓̃ͅt̴̪̱͚̺̱̼͓͐̐̑͐̚̕ǎ̴̺̻̦̮̗̤͂͛͘n̸̛̜͑͑̀̀d̶̩̮͓̜̳̯̟̭̥̀̉͂̊̀́͜͝ ̸̲̟͚͚̗͚̩͖͚̎̅̒̒͆̋m̴̦̻̔̊́̅̂͠y̵͉͙̿̓̈̓̅̏͘̚ ̵̢̝̤̬͙͆ẅ̷̮͕̄̑ơ̶̗͖̩̲͔͉͖̯͔̎͆̓̓r̵̳͓͎͑̈́́̒͌̌͋̉͂̌͜d̶̯̻͋̽̌̏́̎͠s̴̢͚͓̻̠̩͉̠̲̳̆͆̂̓̈́̇̽̒.̷̡̱̩͕̟̿̎͝

[What words are uttered appear akin to the moans and groans- yet perhaps, should Claude focus his control over his domain toward him, some of the sounds would begin to sound like words.]

̵̟͐͑̎̚I̷̦̥͖͉̗̠̺̤̯̐̑ ̷̡̢̛̱̱̥̯͎̳̋̾̆͌̕͘͝͝b̴͔̋̋i̵͚̼̒̿d̷̝̀̿ ̴̨̫̭̱̪̣̗͓̂̋͂̚͘ỳ̶̡̩̤̘͌̾̅̀̏̽̈́ǒ̷̢͉̱̝̪̣̖͗̾̈́̍̐̇͒͆̚ǔ̷̡̖̭̖̀̅̒ ̸͓̬̪̞̻̠̼͐̽̀̅̐̏͐̆̚̕focus. ̵̡͔̞̫͖̠̦͎͍͂̈͜Ï̴͔̜̆̽̀̌͗̽͌͝ ̶̞͊m̸͚̩̗͆͆ȇ̷͔͕̽̈́͠a̸̧̛͔̩̥̪̺̺͗̒̎̒̉͆̾̇͘n̷̡̨̖͖̫̠̳̭̣̎̉ ̷̤̱͈̻͕͕͂͑̈̚͜ý̸̨̼̰͗̏̿̄̿̈́o̷̻̝͖͈͓̗̩̭̾̍͗̾ủ̴̡̨͓̭̪͇̰̘͈̆̽͑ ̸̝̳̺̖͊̀̀͒ͅa̴̧̛̪̳̱̋́̔͛̃͌́͐̐ņ̸̛͔̦͖͋̉̑͋̕d̶̲̕̕ ̶̼̱̲̣̾̎̊̐̔͘͜͠y̸̡̲̫̩̲̝͎̓͜ͅǫ̴͎̙͍̥̣̥͇̇̓͆͒̓̇̽̎̒̚u̴͎͋ŗ̸̺̙͕̝̳̀̀̍͒͑̒̋̾͜͝͠ś̴͚̪̠́͐͋̊͆̎͑̾̀ ̷̛̛̞̦͗̈́̅̓͆̿̕͠no harm.̵̛͈̠̭͙̝͓̦̪̲̌̏͋̊̚̕͠ ̸̡͍͖̥̞̹̱̲̗̚͝͠I̷̽̃̑̓͘͝ͅ ̶̬̫̘̠̝̫͊̈́̋̓͘t̸̢̘̹̙̪̬͂̿r̵̮̥̿̈́͐̇̐͑́̈́u̷̙̞͙̮͈̩͋̽̅̅͛͑s̴̻̜͇̫̅̇́̉̍͗͌͝ẗ̷̬̗̝̪̬̝̩̩́̓͂̊̈́̚̕ͅͅ ̸̖̤̬̆̎͂̑̇̊y̶̞̠͇̭͍̜̭̖̽̏̆̀͑͘͘o̴̱͚̹͇̝̤͆̔̈́̈́̀̒̄̚͜u̵͉͂͂́̓́͒͜͠ ̷̪̺̫͓̝̰̒̀̌̉́̈́̾͝ư̵̯̝̬̂̒̄̋̈́̏̂n̶̡̩͑̆͌͗̐͊͛͊̂̕͜͜ḑ̶̨̠̱͋͊̇́̓̆̏e̷̢̼͉̣̣̗̔̈́̉͜͝r̴̦̝̞̾s̵̹͓̯̊̌͂͂̍̌̃͐͘͠ẗ̴̤̽͐̈́̕ȃ̷̱̈́̃͆͒̀̽ņ̵̱̐͗̋͝ͅd̴̜̥͓̠̪̞̳͂͋̆̏̕͝ͅ?̷̢̨̡̭͔̦̩͑̅̚͘ͅ

[Fingers crossed.]

a_better_man: (dark thoughts)

Mat Cauthon | Thorne | Sannleikr

[personal profile] a_better_man 2022-10-19 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[OOC: Closed and open starters below! HMU if you'd like to plan anything specific!]
a_better_man: (disbelief)

For Eddie

[personal profile] a_better_man 2022-10-19 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)
This isn't right.

On edge, distressed, haunted by upsetting visions, Mat has tried to take solace in the Horizon. His domain is a safe place, a place of comfort where he can pretend nothing else exists save for his magical menagerie and forest of curiosities. And of course his house, and Gizmo.

This is not his magical forest or his little manor house, and his furry little companion is nowhere to be seen. This is...well, he isn't sure. At first he has the horrible thought that somehow he's back in Shadar Logoth, the cursed walled city. This place is dark and highly walled. But there are no buildings, at least that he can see. Not that he can see further than a handful of feet in any direction. There's an oppressive darkness laying over this place that only unsettles him further. How did he even get here?

"Hello?"

Maybe not the smartest thing, calling out into the darkness, but what else can he do? He's not about to go wandering off alone, he's not an idiot. Who knows what's around here?

At least there's no mirrors....
subhuman: (pic#15457353)

[personal profile] subhuman 2022-10-19 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Eerie as the setting is, it's not too far off from the modern day hellscape one would expect. Better living through technology, right? Except Dante never could afford to swing a cable bill so televisions would be considered a luxury, no matter how run down. But this isn't the show he'd have chosen to tune into...

Nor is it likely the choice of the other man here. It becomes apparently pretty quickly this isn't just channel surfing.

Family business. That's the stuff that cuts in deep. ]


Looks like you made a friend.

[ A distraction of the suspicious feline variety? Absolutely. ]
godshattering: (pic#15570278)

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-19 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ In all fairness, it is a rather silly question: does anyone really plan to drop into water spontaneously? The response gets a slight smile from him, both because it's a tone familiar to him from friends and because of said ridiculousness of asking. ]

Well, if it makes you feel any better - this definitely was a surprise in more ways than one, so you succeeded on all fronts.

[ The Horizon's reliable enough for Claude to summon up a person-sized towel to offer to Wilhelm in something like apology, even if he's sure the teen could technically dry his clothes in an instant with that same magic. The action's also enough for Claude to remember he could attempt to play host again even if the act's a little frayed around the edges.

Something, he thinks, he might not be the only one feeling. Just a guess. But not one he's willing to venture aloud just yet. ]


On the plus side, at least you didn't end up in the canals outside. I'm not sure if they're as deep here as they are where they actually are, but it'd be a far more unpleasant experience if so.
carmesi: <user name="berks"> (217)

[personal profile] carmesi 2022-10-19 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[wanda notices his presence before she hears his words, so she is at least not entirely caught off guard. wanda steps back and, with it, her hand returns to remain close to her chest. she gives him a look—familiarity in his features but she's unable to place him anywhere. instead, she holds herself steady as the ground shakes beneath them once more.

it's definitely real; the horizon around them reacts to the shaking, and only when it stops does wanda direct herself to him.]


This isn't something usual in your domain?

[he needs not answer; she already knows what he'll say.

wanda glances upward at the tree—at the structure of the temple.]


And the humming?