EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

[abraxasmods]

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

---

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.

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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.

Comments

[princessvegas]

[ Julie doesn't have any clue how long she's been in this place. There's no sunrise or sunset, the shadows don't move with the planet's rotation. It's like she's stumbled into a painting, completely stagnant except for the fact that it's real. The only other thing in this whole scene is the blob, which hums at random intervals, at varying frequencies and levels of intensity.

But that doesn't keep her from feeling constantly intruded on. Like she's being followed or watched or something. She grows afraid something -- or many somethings -- are invading her conscious. She can feel them, like feeling people's energies flow through a room, in and out of the doors. Feels like they're in her home, like she knows that they're poking about in her closets but she can't seem to find them.

She doesn't know who they might be to give her these feelings. There's more than one, that she's sure of; she can feel the difference between whatever's doing this. Some of them feel foreign and dangerous, make her want to tear her skin off as their presence covers her like a slime. Others feel more comfortable, still somewhat alien, but almost warm and soothing in comparison.

Now is one of the comfortable ones. Curled up in her chair, she closes her eyes for a moment, letting this one settle over her like a weighted blanket. The blob hums quietly, the ground giving the slightest little tremble. ]

[ Unlike the other partiers, who sit in silence and watch Geralt with their ruined faces, their missing eyes, Steven seems to be as functional as ever. What that function is might be debatable, but he doesn't appear to be impacted by the corruption outside of his appearance.

The empty void that now comprises his face tilts slightly, the big eye in the center fixed on Geralt. It blinks (none of the other eyes blink). Where his voice comes from is indeterminable, but it sounds the same as it always does. ]

Hello, Geralt. [ As always, he immediately places a large mug of ale down on the bar between them. There are no plants nearby, but all the prepared fruit garnishes immediately begin to turn and rot in their containers. ] Julie hasn't been here in some time. I thought she might be coming, once, but then she never did.

[gynvael]

He's no plans on moving any time soon. He's been clawed and scraped and bitten to pieces; he isn't eager for what else lies ahead. Especially not when none of this makes a damn bit of difference. Where the Horizon is concerned, he imagines it is not a case of finding a physical exit.

It's more complicated than that. Isn't it always?

"Mm." Certainly is. They do die, though. So that's a comfort. He looks ahead rather than at her, though he's listening, pulling together the details that lie in the spaces she isn't saying. Hellhounds, hell. The realm that is apparently only reached when one dies. "Dean tried to explain once. Angels and devils."

Perhaps explain is a generous term. Either way, the implication is there: these things do not exist for him the same. Not hell as a singular place of significance, not the devil as a being rather than a term applied to whatever manner of monsters folk can't define nor understand.

Witchers included.

[tobeclosetohim]

It's cobbling back together faster as the seconds keep ticking, and her eyes go back to the darkness the wolves, and the hellhound came from, but it's silent. Not she can trust that, but it, or they, have decided not to put round three up on deck immediately.

"Only met one of each of those." Jo's gaze flicked to the spot Geralt had been hovering in the air. "And two of these now." There's a frown at the air. That empty, empty air and it guts anything that wants to take a tendril of victory in it being dead. Because she can't fucking even see it to take that much back to the hollow shakey things she's starting to push down inside her ribs. "Or one twice."

Fuck. Jo doesn't even want to know what the math on that answer is.

(She wonders, sideways, at the empty spot, if it can burn.)

[gynvael]

One twice is a turn of phrase he catches. Geralt glances at her briefly.

"You think it's the same one."

As what? The wolves are him, he imagines: white fur, sharp teeth. Mountain wolves. But that hound had been all Jo, and it isn't until she says so that it strikes him this place may not have dreamed up just any hellhound from her memories. Instead, it's a specific one.

The one that took her? He hasn't given her death much thought. He knows it happens, knows it can't have been pretty, but the details were not for him to pick at. They aren't now, either—but considering that hound nearly tore into him, too, it's a tad more relevant.

[tobeclosetohim]

"I think this place is taking things from us and using them against us."

A magical mental hideaway where your dreams were reality, and you could make anything appear at the twist of a thought, turn mental fuckery jack-in-the-box, where shit they didn't want was the prize. And there was no saying no because the hand holding your prize had already shoved it into your mouth and down your throat, up to the elbow, before you could even blink.

"Like that smell from your—" There's a tiny pause. "—childhood." It's decisive. No undercurrent of another emotion or twist to the word. It's just an odd correlation in her mouth. It happens and says the other just as blankly. "And this one is mine. Obviously."

Jo rolled her head back up into the wall, running a hand up her face. "That I still haven't actually met for the first time, if we want to fuck that up even more." Because she doesn't meet it until only minutes before everything goes downhill. Who the fuck even knew what was and wasn't off the table if it could use something she didn't even know until arriving here.

A!

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie is twitchier and more visibly distracted than usual. He seems to miss chunks of conversation and every so often, he’ll shake his shaggy head roughly as if trying to knock something away. He’s been dealing with this for days now; whispers mocking him for cowardice, reminding him of all the trouble he caused, letting him know that he’s probably right in his assessment that his death came as a relief to everyone back home, even those he was close to.

They may be whispers, but they’re loud, always directly in his ear, and they make it hard to pay attention when he’s being spoken to. Everything else isn’t helping. Between the voices and the state Solvunn is in, he’s in a haze of fear, and he wants nothing more than to run back to the Horizon. He knows that it’s just as chaotic there, though, and he has to keep reminding himself that he wants to help. He wants to be here, and he doesn’t want to run away again when there’s work that he can help with, even through small acts. ]

Yeah, sorry—

[ He fishes into his pocket for one of the charms and holds it out to her. His hand shake visibly, and very nearly drops the charm. Clearly, his nerves are completely shot. ]

Shit. Sorry. Jangled nerves.

[ He forces a nervous laugh. ]

You think those are gonna work?

[cointosser]

[Now is hardly the time for Geralt to not explain himself – though he rarely ever has – but now, Jaskier truly has no grasp on what happened to him. He felt… he felt his life slipping out between his fingers, trying to hold his body together. As surely as he felt himself have a headache when he woke this morning.

The wet slide of blood and organs in his hands. The pain of it. The heat.

And then Geralt pulls away from him.

He’s left alone, surrounded by the crisp, dead flowers around him. His hands set down, crushing them, hardly strong enough to keep himself sitting up as they shake. His heart hammers so hard he can feel it beating in his tongue.]

What did you do?

[ofthesword]

[He blinks. Oh. Right. The more she does, the less Nero’s sure if Wanda’s magic really has hard limits. But it’s never been his sort of thing to just assume magic’ll fix whatever problem’s come up, either.]

Could, I guess. Does all this magic seriously not tire you out?

[Not that he hasn’t seen her exhausted, but the times where Wanda avoids using magic are pretty slim, if ever. Maybe there’s no toll on her. Guess, in a way, he’s the same. Not much takes a real hit on him unless it’s something dire. Like regrowing an arm.

Never again. Hopefully.

He shrugs one shoulder at her question.] I mean, yeah, I’m not putting up one for any bozo. I’m not about to pray to it or somethin’. It just… fits. Solvunn’s always been about that shit, and it’s not like our recent trips into the woods have done anything.

[Nero pauses.] Guess if I fucked off, I’d wanna be remembered be someone here, too.

[ofthesword]

[Two is nothing for him. Not because he's -- all right, yeah, he's overpowered in comparison to a couple of demons -- but because he's got the experience. Nero sails down to the snow with the frost underneath him, his arm turning scaled, fingers changing to claw as he grips the demon's face and slams it repeatedly into the rock hidden deep under the snow. The second one whips to the side, its tail dragging through snow behind it, and dives towards him with its claws out.

A push off the first frost's body and he flips over the claws aimed straight for his spine, grabbing the sailing frost's tail as he dodges to swing it around, repeatedly twirling it in a circle, its ice cracking more and more with every time it hits the ground. A few spins and a take this! and Nero throws one frost into its companion, both of them crashing to the ground and sliding through the snow.

Just in time for him to look over and see Geralt's sword fucking shatter.

Shit.]

Geralt! Catch! [He trusts he can. He winds his arm back, and without thinking, without planning, Red Queen forms in his demonic hand -- and he throws her straight towards Geralt, her motor somehow revving without a hand on it. Fuel lights across the blade, igniting on fire and sending sparks behind it.

One of his frosts must've gotten to its feet, because it slams back into Nero and throws him to the ground. He loses track of Geralt as power bursts across his body, triggering the demon within. Two blue wings sprout from his shoulders and grab the frost, claws digging into its shoulders, as his wings spread wider and wider, ice cracking, until the frost literally splits it two above him. Thick, black blood splatters across his face, as cold as ice.

Ugh. He sits up, spitting it out into the snow.]

[ofthesword]

[The entire van shakes as something slams into it from above, startling Nero more than the yell did. (Honestly, probably a bad sign a yell barely registers.)]

What the fuck? [He climbs out the van -- giving the jukebox a punch as he walks by -- and hops up on the hood to see.

A body.

The body flips over, so at least it's not a dead one. And as he flips, Nero recognizes that face.

The shitty Mario Kart player.]

Well, real good to see you're still alive, buddy. [He hops up onto the roof of the van, peering down at Thancred before he offers a hand up.] Lucky my van was here to catch you so you could leave a lasting impression.

[No, he is not exactly thrilled to have Thancred's body imprinted into his van. And if there's anything that can be read from how the van begins to rock underneath them with a low growl, the pussycat's not real thrilled, either.] You okay? Where'd you even come from?

[ofthesword]

[Nero's already called the shadow about twenty different names by the time he's taken to summoning a large stick and poking at it underneath the van, only to hear the stick crunch and to come away with a large chunk missing out the end.

He doesn't even know why he's fucking bothering. This thing is pissed for whatever goddamn reason, so he should just leave it be. Don't see why it even has any reason to. Everything weird is happening outside the Horizon -- the rottings, the animal corpses. (Worse corpses, he bet, given enough time. If it spreads.)

Nero's not proud of how he jumps whe na voice comes from inside his damn van right at the time the shadow takes a second chunk out of his stick. He tosses the whole thing at the van's shadow with a grunt, poking his head in the van.]

Ciri? What the fuck? [He echoes the words.] How did you -- where did you -- [He holds up his hands. This is seriously the second time.] You know what, maybe teleportation's just a thing here.

[cointosser]

[Jaskier’s entire domain appears to suck in air and hold its breath the moment before a body pops into it, seemingly from nowhere. And though several more leaves fall from Bleobheris’s branches, and the moths flutter away in a small cloud where the visitor arrives, the domain otherwise does not change.

But there is a sense that it recognizes him. That he is not pushed out immediately like another may have been. Bleobheris's trunk groans, the branches shifting minutely overhead. And higher than that do the clouds turn darker, and a light rain begins to fall.

As if to wash over the visitor. To wash away the sand and salt.]

I'm coming! [A small sound in the distance along with the beat of wings.] I'm coming, kupoooo!

[And while the shout may almost sound comical, the moogle that flies down towards their visitor in his black, shining armor arrives with no humor. A blood-red aura that once encased his armor dissipates into nothing as his tiny steed touches down. Moglad dismounts, embedding his sword in the soil before floating down by Rhy's head. Immediately, two paws reach out to hold each side, as if, if he was larger, he would be embracing the man.]

Don't worry, kupo. You're safe. You're safe, Master Rhy! I'll protect you, no matter what! Fear can’t stop Moglad anymore!

YES PLS

[cointosser]

[Moglad senses the moment someone so intiamtely familiar arrives in Jaskier's domain, so much so that he can be heard in the distance as he moves astride his steed and gallops through the air -- the for first time, using Aard magic to push him even faster.]

Himeekaaaaaaaa!

[Moglad zooms towards her, leaving his steed behind and flying with his wings flapping rapidly behind him, until he practically crashes into her chest (momentarily forgetting he's encased in his dark knight armor.) His paws are still uncovered and they reach for her, embracing the Au Ra as well as he can.

Moglad doesn't even notice any chance in her (simply because Jaskier is not here to see it.) All he knows is Himeka is safe, and a friend, and beloved, (and maybe Jaskier's wife? He is still unclear on that and hasn't thought to ask further.)]

Are you all right, Lady Himeka? We've missed you! Are you safe? I'll keep you safe, kupo! I've gotten stronger!!

[cointosser]

[If it wasn't this moment, with how Jaskier feels already, the outburst from his friend may have actually surprised him. Perhaps even frightened him, in small ways; not in fear of his own safety, but for where Alucard's mind has gone.

But here, he almost wants to indulge in it. He wants to destroy these bushes and revel in the fact he, for once, can let go of some obligation he took on himself because -- fuck, he's not even sure why he grew them in the first place. To practice his magic? It may have been a selfish desire from the very beginning. Now they are simply another eyesore in this desert, which is always so dead and hot and dry that some days he can barely stand being in it, the days where he spends the entirety in the bathhouses or his own tub at home, soaking in water and oils.

He listens as he dives his hands into the bushes, letting magic flow. It reaches out and chokes the remaining life out of the plants, the final green leaves curling in on themselves with a brown-black hue.]

Just because your father would have taken it too far doesn't mean the first idea was a terrible one. [He shakes his hands from the bush's branches, standing, stepping past them to look at the broken soil, the shifted sands. All the tombstones Alucard repaired, cracked once more.

Well. Not all of them. Only a few. But the dead, destroying what was placed to honor them. It's so... frustrating.]

I would pay to see a bunch of reanimated corpses rip Ellya limb from limb. Believe me. And if some part of me did not know that the dead from Libertas deserve better, I would ship their bodies myself.

[And it's once the words leave him he feels a little sick, and a little sweet, both at the same time.

His hand presses to a grave that looks undisturbed. I don't mean that. His tongue curls up on itself, throat tight. And where his palm rests, a plant begins to grow. Unfurling, bright green leaves; especially bright now that the blackberries have died.

And as he stands up, staring at the plant, taking a step back, this one too begins to grow black berries. But he knows them for what they are.

Nightshade.]

You should let them go. [He says quietly, curling his fingers in.] You're not your mother, and you're not your father.

[cointosser]

He can only truly focus on one crisis at a time. At first, it is simply that he has been placed in charge of untrained hounds. A small crisis: work with them, train them, and help Libertas in this small, small way. And then after that: the work with Alucard to begin further preservation of Libertas' art, if it's possible. It is important. But then:

The waters in the Free Cities, rare as they all, grow befouled. When Jaskier goes to the market, he notes that certain ingredients, certain herbs he picked without much thought dwindle, and then, they leave the markets altogether.

It's hardly anything in the face of war. But then his flowers and herbs in their boxes at the window begin dying. No matter how often he waters them, or changes their pots, or clips the dead leaves.

And replacing them, a plant he knows well after his travels with Geralt: nightshade.

He simply lets it grow. And he goes to the markets, pausing next to a younger girl -- one of Cadens' orphans, perhaps -- her fingers rubbing together as she eyes an entire loaf of bread. Jaskier smiles, leaning next to her. I'll give him a bit of a talk. Her wide eyes move to his, guilty, caught. But he doesn't stop smiling as he stands back up. Shouldn't we all have what we want?

Jaskier can't pinpoint why he says it, or why to her, but as he watches that girl grab the loaf and run so fast the baker doesn't yet notice, he can't help but feel this lovely, warm swell in his chest.

It is later Nadine's words spill across his book, where he's been indulging in a very explicit sketch for the fun of it, several bottles of opened wine sitting on his bedside table. He sits up immediately.

"Of course I'm coming. Be there soon."

When he arrives, he's brought an opened bottle of rum with him, and he's left his doublet behind in favor of a buttoned shirt with a neckline that falls low enough to show coils of chest hair. There doesn't seem much point in dressing up in his doublets or his coats or his cloaks.

He knocks on Nadine's door, leaning against the doorframe. He lights up once she arrives as he always does when he sees her. "What is it today, dear heart? Do you need another study partner for the night?"

OTA | Cadens

[cointosser]

[Though his tenuous connection to the Singularity has certainly made him no stranger to visions, Jaskier has decided that if he must be inundated with these strange, alien dreams, then he will make something of them.

So he turns them into art. Into song. Why not? Whatever they mean, they could be a beautiful symbolism for something much deeper. It does not, of course, occur to him to share what he's seen -- this is far from the image he saw once in the Horizon. No, this feels... different.

It is not an odd sight to stumble upon where Jaskier is concerned: a small stage has been raised outside the markets, and there Jaskier stands, his lute in his hands, performing a song he's only recently begun tapping into:

Is it not true that a bitter berry
Can taste sweet to another tongue?
If fortune favors the bold,
Then let the bold become us!

[He leans steps closer to the edge of the small stage, his coat sleeping behind him, and winks to a lovely lass in the front of his assembled crowd. As he steps down, plants begin to bloom at his feet, awing the crowd: flowers with spiked purple petals, with bright green leaves and stems that grow heavy with petals and clusters of unripe green berries.]

Let that dream of wine touch your tongue,
Let that empty hand hold gold.

[He holds out his hand, as the other strums the belly of the lute, and out of it flies a tiny chickadee, peeping its song in tune with his notes, and the pretty young lass brushes his hand.]

You will know the weight of gold.
I will know the weight of gold.

[The effect is not immediate, but once Jaskier has finished the performance and sits on the edge of the stage, stretching his hands, his eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed. And he watches, quietly, as the woman from before passes by a market stall and pockets a ring straight into a ruffle decorating her breast.

He drinks from a canteen from his bag, a bright, sour wine he recently purchased. One among many. Something about his thirst for it has come back. It's tasted so good lately.]

[gynvael]

He can push. Geralt's hand is still wrapped around the door handle to hold it close and he isn't budging by force alone. Though part of him contemplates letting go abruptly and watching Lucifer tumble inside.

He doesn't. In the space of ten seconds, he's already grown tired of Lucifer. It isn't even personal. Frankly, he's few reasons to give a shit about Lucifer. They tangled in the woods because Dean was attacked. That's where it begins and ends for him. But he also hasn't much patience to suffer fools in his home and that's exactly what Lucifer is being.

And he does not wish to be down here any longer than necessary.

"Those are outside." Deadpan—the first words he's ever spoken in Lucifer's presence, in fact, since they've crossed paths. Not a joke, either. If the demon ventures past the doors into the frosty winter, he'll find a number of skeletons and bones littering the grounds, monster and human alike, half-covered by the snow. "You can schedule a visit when the storm's passed."

[gynvael]

[ He can feel the faint hum of his medallion near the speaking dog. He takes another moment, then looks up at the ceiling. The small puddle of goop squishes under his boots. Wasn't there before. It's growing beneath their feet. ]

Come on. [ He starts for the door. They can't stay here, it's true. He only hopes nothing is waiting out there, too. ] How long have you been here?

[ Because the state of this place? Seems it's been consumed for some time. What is it even? He recognized the maze. This. He hasn't a single fucking idea what he's looking at. ]

[hairington]

[ truth be told, steve had no fucking idea what was going on. and, alright, that wasn’t a new feeling - he’s actually pretty good at handling himself with little to no information and even less direction. but he’s also been in his horizon enough times to know that this wasn’t him. at first, part of him had almost thought it could be - like some weird subconscious whatever showing up and not leaving - but when he tried to fix things only for them to get worse, steve decides that maybe he should just. let it be. let it pass.

that’s when people start showing up - accidentally, and some only for a few moments - but they’re here, and if only half of what could be hiding in these woods is actually here, steve can’t. he can’t let them deal with it on their own. they have no idea what they’re getting into, and if anything happened, it doesn’t really matter if it was real or not. steve has seen what happens to people while they’re stuck in their own head, had heard enough about vecna’s curse, and while he doesn’t think that’s what’s happening here, he also doesn’t want to risk it.

so steve heads into the dark, because he can’t leave anyone out there, and hoping that maybe they’ll just leave.

he’s already at the drive in when the thing starts charging, when the shrill cry echoes out. steve hadn’t only just seen the bike, has only just seen geralt, but there’s not really time for that, is there? because steve is already running, lighting the fabric of the molotov cocktail in his hands. maybe he should have thought about fireworks, maybe he should have thought of literally anything else, but his instincts picked this and steve just has to go with it, coming to a stop about ten feet to geralt’s left and launching the bottle out into the treetops. ]

Get out of here! [ steve’s in his jacket, stacked up just as he’d been when they’d gone after vecna but with his bat instead of an axe. and that’s probably for the best, as a guttural barking echoes from under the creature’s feet - doglike things swarming and lit up as the larger thing seems momentarily distracted by the fire spread out across one of its elbows (steve doesn’t even know if it’s an elbow, but whatever).

there’s no winning this - not without el - but he can distract it long enough for geralt to get out. and it’s with that thought that steve is pulling out another bottle. ] Go!

[hairington]

[ by the time steve feels it - that weird, sudden presence of someone there, where they’re not supposed to be, where he doesn’t want them to be - it’s too late. steve has done a thorough enough examination of his own horizon to have known the elevator was there, to recognize what it looked like, to remember the first time he’d been locked inside, but he’d never actually gone down into it. that was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to face, like, ever. and especially not alone.

he doesn’t hear eddie calling out for him, exactly, but he does know he’s there. and that’s why - suddenly and probably not helpful to eddie’s general anxiety - appearing on the other side of the room.

for the first time in the horizon, steve sees what some messes up part of his brain has put down here. the concrete, the lighting, the chairs back to back. it curls in his stomach, remembering being drug back in here, fear and anger and a sort of defensive embarrassment roiling in his gut. it’s more than what he probably should feel, but that’s just been the way of things these last couple of days. ]

What the fuck, Munson? What are you doing here? [ it comes out sharper and louder than he means it to, which then sets off a wave of guilt, dark and heavy and familiar in his stomach.

he steps towards eddie, as if to push him back into the elevator. he doesn’t notice the blood stains on the floor next to the chairs that definitely hadn’t been there before, but what’s one more thing off about this place? ]

You need to leave. You’re not supposed to be here.

[gynvael]

[ Steve appears out of fucking nowhere. Geralt's attention snaps to the boy, in time to see him light a—bottle? It's some kind of incendiary device, he can tell that much. He swerves out of the arcing path, avoids getting caught in the burst of flames. His eyes are on the creature, taking it in: how it flinched from the incoming fire even before it was set alight, the rows of teeth hidden in its bisected mandibles, curved claws. The hound-like animals beneath its feet. Its skin is leathery—but it doesn't appear armoured.

It is fast, though, despite the spreading flames. Fast enough he's not certain he wants to risk outrunning it in a vehicle and sending them crashing. (Can one lead a pursuing monster past the domain it spawned in?) He swings off the bike, sword in hand. Heats it until the blade glows red-hot.

A quick glance over shoulder. Whatever might be happening here, Steve looks to have seen this thing before. Geralt assumes the boy knows what he's doing—decides not to split his focus worrying about the one or two stray dogs that make a run for Steve. He plunges his sword into one of the others, severs another in half.

The larger beast lurches forward. He ducks a swiping claw; the second smashes against the dome-like shield that appears over him. Then he's sliding in, the tip of his sword slicing it chest to belly. It lurches, stumbling, though not as much as he'd like. He rolls to his feet just in time to take another dog flying at him. Catches it right to the chest. Its jaws flare. He grabs the smaller creature by the petals of its fleshy mouth before it can snap at him, ignoring the sharp teeth that pierce his hands. Blood spills—but there's a satisfying sizzle of flesh as his palm heats, scorching it.

Fuck. Where in the hell did Steve get to? Because he's fairly certain he can hear more barking growls. Faint, but coming closer, the sound of heavy clawed feet crunching atop metal roofs. ]

[cryptsleeper]

Oh, I know. Why do you think I've taken on so much work? Things that exhaust the brain and the body? I'm still furious at that mage. I'd be happy to reach into his chest and eat his heart right in front of him, then make a public sculpture of the corpse for all to see.

[A more localized vengence, but it has stuck with Alucard over a year later. Anger is hard to shake, and harder when it is indulged in the way they are now. Under more normal circumstances, Alucard would take everything Jaskier said as a sign that something is truly wrong. That he needs to worry. That he should at least tell Ciri that somthing's not right, if not Geralt himself. But here, now, who cares? And why should they? In helping Libertas there has been no time for outrage, only duty and sadness.

A dark laugh with no joy in it escapes the dhampir's throat.]

That's the kind of thing Hector's for. Send the dead, then dispatch them so they can move on. Everyone wins except Thorne.

[Mentioning Hector is something Alucard avoids around the bard, out of respect and also because he can still be unkind about the necromancer. But right now, just saying everything feels better. It is catharsis, or at least that's how he's labeled it for now.

But as Jaskier makes things grow, Alucard's face sours.]

If I let them go, or try to favor one over the other, I die. Wallachia taught me that in the aftermath of their deaths.

[godshattering]

[ There's more speech and, thankfully, this time it doesn't seem so difficult to understand. Parts seem to be lost here and there as if they simply fade out before the next word can be heard, but. Much better than seconds ago, which is helpful. ]

You've been coming here multiple times? Huh. That's not something I've heard of happening before, but I wouldn't put it past the Horizon given whatever it's doing currently.

[ Something Claude's been subject to himself, ending up in places he didn't recognize as being someone else's domain and hasn't been able to (or wanted to) return to since. The book's now properly forgotten as he leans over to set it on a side table to turn his full attention to his visitor. ]

Do you have a name, friend? [ Operating under the assumption of friendship, even a fleeting one, given that having no ill will's now been said twice. Then again, given that this person(?) is several times his size: Claude's not about to risk angering them by acting otherwise, even if it wouldn't be the first time someone told him they meant no harm only to, in fact, mean deep harm. ] Or something you prefer to be called, if not a name proper.

As for the usual way in and out of here... I might have sealed it off so it's not so easy to find. [ He has the grace to look mildly sheepish about this. If only for a second, since then it's followed by a quick smile signaling a joke forthcoming. ] Though to be fair, at your current height - I'd also guess you could walk over this courtyard's walls without a second thought.

[godshattering]

[ That expression tells him his guess what right even before Wilhelm confirms it. Though it's not the same issue he's dealing with himself currently, he's heard of something like that from others. Claude thinks briefly now of Bernadetta, who would tell herself those negative things aloud for anyone to hear - if if the person supposedly saying them in her thoughts hadn't actually said anything close to it.

Then Wilhelm tells him these voices here also lean into that, and as the teen looks away Claude continues to watch him. There's a bit of a silence following, if only because Claude's weighing his own reaction rather carefully. There's a fine line to tread between revealing too much he hasn't planned to tell anyone (ever, if he can avoid doing so) and commiseration. ]

Whatever they're telling you? It's not true. I used to deal with... well, not the same thing, but a version of that where I heard all those negative things about myself aloud from people over and over to a point where they made it into my thoughts. But they were wrong, on everything, and so are the voices talking to you.

[ Hm. That usually falls under those things he wouldn't share, and it'd seemed like the words had already formed before he knew what he was actually going to say. No matter - maybe they'll help. ]

[godshattering]

Surely you know that's as good as saying yes in not so many words.

[ Of course he does, Claude thinks, because Sylvain's used one of the many methods that he himself uses to sidestep something. That's the point of not having to say yes at all. The confirmation of being right doesn't offer Claude any comfort. It means the weight of something is sitting heavy on the other's shoulders and that there's a possibility those vivid dreams he'd done his best to gloss over are back.

A possibility which means also closer to being true as he watches Sylvain get another drink then looks at his own mostly empty glass. All the better to tip the last of it back to finish it off to refill it once the other's done in case they're about to be here for a while. ]

You wanna talk about it at all?

[ Probably not since Claude knows he wouldn't himself, but. The offer still stands. ]