EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

[abraxasmods]

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

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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.

Comments

Nadine Cross | Free Cities | Adlewyrd

[nadine_he_loves]

[Open and closed starters below! Plotting comment here.]

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo had lain down on her bed, like normal, closed her eyes, like normal, crossed her hands on top of her stomach, like normal, and opened her eyes —

Not in the Roadhouse.

Somewhere as far from the Roadhouse, she can't even get to the thought because there's piercing screaming and the stench of fresh and old blood both, something sickly sweet the first confused breath in spun her stomach's complaint at it even as she couldn't give it any attention. Not when her hands were raised to find her ears, but they never quite got there, just her shoulders punched toward them, and everything around her has most of it.

Her eyes might as well have been made for shadows. Torches dot the walls, but the shadows can't hide the chains, the blood stains, or the broken beds in splintered pieces. All of them are too small. Too, too small. The beds. The chain cuffs. Child sized. Her hand reaches for a dagger that isn't there because she's not in the real world. Not real, but absolutely fucking real in every direction.

Even as she has no want to touch anything in whatever this place is, she sizing up a piece of broken wood on the floor, how easy it might be to snap a hand-sized part of this section of the bed. To take it with her to wherever the screaming is coming from.

But that's when the snarl of a voice cuts through (into?) the screaming, has her whip the opposite way, and it's Geralt. She doesn't need more light to see the fury on his face, either. But it unchecks her mouth, and it's an effort in the face of both that she doesn't mind staring loudly. "What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?" Barely a beat. "What the fuck is all of this?"

Cadens - Open (CW: corpse and medical stuff)

[nadine_he_loves]

Omens - Streets of Cadens

It's been a strange day. From the moment Nadine woke up, shaking away unsettlingly odd dreams, she's felt a bit off. The feeling has only grown stronger through the day, right up to the point her class on organ structure was cancelled.

Because one of the practice cadavers sat up and starting grabbing mindlessly at anything around it. Her practice cadaver, as it happened. Just as she'd been slicing into its liver. Not that it had seemed that aware of what was happening. It was only the start, it turned out, and it quickly became apparent that classes were over and done with. Immediately.

The smell of preserving fluid still clings to her as she makes her way home, her mood distracted. The rising dead isn't exactly new, though it seems a bit early for it. Perhaps an insensitive thought, but she's found herself with more of those than usual today. Just flitting thoughts that are more cutting or unfair in their tone. Maybe she should be more concerned about the unquiet dead, but the streets seem relatively fine. In this part of the city, at least.

She does take note of any other Summoned she sees on her way, and moves to approach them.

"Hey...uh, just thought you should know, there's some zombies at the medical academy. Apparently when they say 'you'll be working on fresh cadavers', they really mean the fresh part."


Adlewyrd's Influence Begins - Streets of Cadens, Mag's Inn

It's more than just one strange day.

Nadine hasn't been feeling herself since that weird dream. The zombies didn't help. But it isn't just external things, she's found herself thinking things she wouldn't normally. Or rather seriously thinking about things she wouldn't normally.

She is, overall, a reserved person. She isn't prone to indulgence or much needless spending or impulsive decisions. Overthinking things is likely one of her stronger flaws. She ponders and considers and runs through possibilities in her mind. So much of her former life still clings to her. A resistance to drinking or otherwise inebriating herself in the real world, denying the urge when it comes on her. Her reluctance to take other lovers, despite being encouraged to and explaining it away as lack of time. A need to live simply and quietly and follow all the rules laid out for her.

But it's like there's a little voice inside her head, urging her to forget all those rules. What good does it really do her? Shouldn't she be doing all she can to enjoy this life of freedom she's found? Which is how she's somehow found herself with two boutique shopping bags on her arm. For once, all on her own and without Julie at her shoulder, she'd seen something in a window and walked right inside to buy it. More than once.

When she reaches home, instead of going upstairs to her and Julie's rooms - which she just thinks of as their apartment - she finds herself giving in to an impulse again. She settles herself in the common room of the inn and orders a drink - something she never does by herself.

Why not?

[gynvael]

The absurdity of her question makes him blink (what's he doing here? This is his fucking domain). Then it's gone. His brows furrow deeper. He curls his fingers around the edge of the door frame. The wood whines, splintering.

Geralt stares at her. She shouldn't be here. How did she get here? Logically, he knows it must be the Horizon fucking up. This isn't the first time it's happened, not even the first time today. He's been sent tumbling into spaces he hasn't meant to go, as well. But he can't think straight. All he sees is Jo, here, in a place he has not shared with even those closest to him. Not willingly.

It's been a year. He's ignored it for a year, and he wishes to continue to do so. He most certainly does not want to move forward with the knowledge that Jo has seen it.

Fuck. He should leave. He also isn't willing to walk away while she's intruding. Perhaps it's worth noting, though, that he doesn't come in to drag her out. Doesn't move any further than where he stands, as though he can't step past the threshold of the door. The smell turns his stomach. Not the blood, but this. This specific combination of odours.

"Leave. Now."

[righteously]

( You're damn straight it matters what might be down there, because what's down there is one particularly pissed off hunter.

Pissed off in a general sense, that is, not at Geralt in particular — though it might seem that way for a moment or two when he finally gets out.

He didn't piece it together at first. Where he was, who it belongs to. No, at first it's just... darkness, chains, screaming. The smell of blood and piss and fear made all too familiar to him over a few decades in the pit. It ain't the first time he's confused these two places, though, and there's one glaring clue that gives it away.

Almost everything here is child-sized.

That doesn't exactly improve things.

There's a door that won't open, that's too dark for him to try and pick because he can't even find a god damn lock hole when he runs his fingers over it. Just iron, cold and unyielding, echoing back at him the sound of young screaming. Probably makes it a little hard to pick up on him yelling over top of it, if you're not in close proximity to the stone that swallows the voices.

So he slams his fist on the damn thing for what feels like forever, fumbling his way through brain texts that scramble uselessly as soon as he finishes writing them. Finally, after a veritable fucking eternity, he hears an answer. Call and response. He slaps his hand against the door again, this time more out of frustration than any real communication attempt.

Muted, muffled, from beyond the iron: )

No, it's Santa Clause! Open the god damn door!

[gynvael]

[ He swallows. Grabs the heavy bolted door handle. Dean's panic rings clear through, and it's the main reason he doesn't hesitate to yank open that door he's touched maybe once since it's materialized.

He grabs Dean by the arm, pulls him out rougher than he means. Slams the door shut again. It does nothing to muffle the sounds from inside. They're screams, but they are, specifically, the screams of the dying, and one by one, a few go silent. His stomach curls into tight knots. He knows. Of course he knows, because he was there in Dean's memories—and Dean in his.

It's not exactly an experience he wanted repeated for either of them.

There's a long moment where he stares at Dean. Tries to figure out what in the hell he's even meant to say. Normally, he might've asked if Dean was all right, done something, but right now, all he can think about is that he needs to escape the stifling air before he chokes on it. ]

Fuck. [ He turns, ready to stalk off back up the stairs. ]

[righteously]

( One second there's darkness, the next there's light — and a hand gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, yanking him out of not-hell. He stumbles a little. Presses one hand to the wall to regain his balance, and then levels Geralt with a look. Knowing, imploring, and confused all at once. He doesn't have to say it, his expression reads it clearly enough: the fuck? For a long moment they just look at each other, stuck in an impossible understanding they shouldn't share but nevertheless do.

Geralt's the one that breaks the moment, shattering the standstill and propelling time back into motion again by striding off toward the stairs Dean's only just noticed. )

What the hell was that?

( He's following Geralt up the stairs in lock-step, practically right at his heels. Before Geralt can answer, they're stepping through into halls that are by now familiar enough for Dean to instantly recognize.

This is Kaer Morhen. This is Geralt's domain. This isn't a Singularity thing, it isn't a memory thing, it's a room in Geralt's god damn domain. He overwrites his last question with a new one, a demand two shades from accusatory. )

Why is that here?

( He'll have a softer touch once he bounces back, just give him a second or two to get over it. After all, doesn't have a lot of room to judge — it's not like he doesn't have a little scrap of purgatory hidden in the depths of his own domain, unacknowledged. )

[tobeclosetohim]

Geralt stares at her for a long moment, and she doesn't stop herself from raising her eyebrows at him for the seconds it takes. The screaming stops, and that smell keeps filling up her chest with each new breath. It's not the blood and the death—so much of her life is both of those scenes in various forms — but the cloying sweet she can't recognize.

Whatever that is. It's the one that makes Jo want to twitch her nose or reflexively swallow. It's like whatever it is hits the back of her throat too thick, even just breathing it in. The chill that must have been here from the beginning was starting to creep up her skin, too, even as it was all background through processed around the fixation point of Geralt.

"Leave where? Does this look like it has a bright red blinking exit sign?" She clips it, but only as the screaming comes again, making her look away from him entirely. Trying to figure out what direction the screaming is coming from. Isn't that more important than yelling at Geralt anyway? Getting to whoever that is? Like getting to the people in Libertas was?

Julie Lawry | Free Cities | Sannleikr

[princessvegas]

[ plotting post ✬ bitchcraft ✬ bitchcraft#2753 ]

[gynvael]

She's not going to figure out where it's coming from; it's everywhere: around them, inside the room, staining the silence. Echoing. But there's a muffled quality to it, too, like it's blurred. Indistinguishable.

There's a door. She can walk through the fucking door. That's the exit. And maybe if his thoughts weren't so jumbled, his veins not so icy, he'd understand. What she's feeling. How disorienting it is to land in this room without warning. That it is not a vision he would wish on anyone. He's buried it here for a reason. He's tried to rid himself of it. He has. He's touched this door several times, willed it away. It never lasts more than a few hours.

She will want to know what it is. He does not wish to explain. Why would he? What the fuck would she even understand?

His jaw tightens. He sucks in a breath. "I will not tell you again."

Kyle | Thorne | Sannleikr

[ushiri]

( Plotting post found here! General psa that I'll be slow for most of this event due to travel. )

Horizon: THE TEMPLE ☾ OPEN

[ushiri]

[ The temple is located not far from the border of another domain, the gas station. In contrast, the temple stands tall and proud at seven stories. The two massive statues on either side seem to welcome visitors, hands extended out. The one made of white marble always looks on serenely. The one made of black marble has his mouth open, shouting in silence.

If you've been here before you might've already noticed the apple trees around the base of the temple bearing their crystalline fruit. The stream that encircles the structure normally runs clear, but this week the water rushes just a little bit faster.

What has never happened before, though, is the way the stone structure seems to rattle and shake, as if from some unseen earthquake. If you approach close enough, you might also hear the stone itself humming.

Inside nothing seems different. The iron tree still stretches its branches to the glass dome. The smoke that permeated this place during the farmland fires seems to be gone. Some of the fruit from the tree, those same crystal apples, have fallen to the stone floor, splitting open to reveal the soft, sweet fruit flesh inside.

The owner of this domain might not be there when you arrive. There's nothing outright ominous about this place, aside from the shaking and the odd humming. It's quiet, and peaceful. A good place to pray, to any god you believe in. ]

kyle.

[gynvael]

[ This is the worst damn time for the Horizon to destabilize. Normally, the simple solution would be to stay out of it. But he can't. Because Julie is not missing in the real world. She is missing in here. Which means he needs to search in here. Which means entering and leaving domains, each step an invitation for the Horizon to toss him through an invisible door.

The ground opens up. He stumbles. A sudden drop, and then he's sliding along a sloping roof, right off the edge before he can catch himself or turn in the air for anything resembling a graceful landing. He slams onto the surface beneath with a heavy crunch. Something squelches, sticky, beneath his hand.

A window looks out towards him. A house, stacked on another home's roof. Geralt shoves himself up onto an elbow. Peers through the window from his vantage as though he might see someone staring back. Maybe he does.

Would hate to have an audience for his impressive fall, though. ]

lucifer.

[gynvael]

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo looked back again at his word, still as stone and icy as the room itself,
the air under it that just kept getting sharper, and Jo's eyes narrowed. "Wait."

And why didn't she think of it before? Even if he hadn't been as rabidly bothered by being stuck in that corner of the city and that rooftop patch as her, he had been there. In Libertas. He'd come there to help. He's here now. And nothing about that look is one about caring. About giving a damn about whatever is happening to the person—people—somewhere being hurt.

It's blistering, barely checked, rage.

The kind of dangerous level of rage you get tripping over someone's secret.

"This is yours, isn't it?"
It doesn't dawn like an epiphany;
it crashes like a vase.

Baffled confusion slid slick in the blood between them, on the floor, walls, and everywhere, to something deeply horrified. It skipped across that shot of self-preserving fear and right into flaming, righteous indignation. "You can dream anything in this place, and you dream of torturing children??"

[gynvael]

[ Dean follows—of course Dean follows—and the intense urge to throw him out rises inside him. He swallows it down. It's not that he never expected anyone to stumble on that room. It exists. It's bound to happen.

But he did not anticipate anyone being inside it. Certainly not Dean.

The accusatory edge doesn't help. Nor does the fact that Geralt's grip on his temper as of late has been far more tenuous. He can't explain it. He knows about the dream. He does. He saw what visited him. But it doesn't feel foreign, how icy hot his blood flares, dark thoughts that he can't keep at bay. It is not as if he hasn't been here before. He's just—

It feels like he's backsliding. And Dean is too easy of a target before he can think twice. He whirls around. ] The fuck do you think, Dean?

[ Need he explain why? He's fairly damn sure the answer's bright as day. ]

[righteously]

( That's not very Enya of you, Geralt. It takes him aback, catches him completely off guard — and were Geralt nearly anybody else, he'd be escalating right now. Anyone save three or four, a very tiny and selective handful. He'd bark back, raise his chin, give in to the stubbornly persistent part of himself that's been looking for a fight in just about everything lately. He'd probably relish it.

But he's close enough to the guy now that it trips a censor, pings an alert to that dormant but ever-present part of his mind devoted to his people. Unusual behavior, red flag, pay attention.

Admittedly, it does still take a second or two longer than usual for him to reel back from that edge and let go of the impulse, but at this point his temper's still far outmatched by his dedication. For now.

He compromises. Backs down. Still off-kilter, still frustrated, but he's wrangling it into something a less accusatory. )

I think what's behind that door is bad enough that you look like you wanna throw hands over it. I think you'd rather shake hands with a bullet than be within a mile of it, so I don't know. You tell me. ( Again, firmly: ) Why is that here?

luficer: closed

[ushiri]

He's been moving between Nott and the castle for his deliveries, so he's quick to hear that the southern city is having issues dispatching of their dead.

These risen dead hardly resemble the Isshusha'im. It's not holy rituals that have brought them back to shamble across the earth. Flesh still clings to some of them, the stench of rot hanging in the air.

He's armed himself with a simple cudgel, better a blunt weapon against them, and sets out from the portal to walk along the outskirts of the old part of the city, close to the lake - with an odd companion today.

"There -" he says quickly to Lucifer, pointing out two of the undead dragging another body into the murky waters. Unconscious or already dead, it's hard for him to say, but whoever it is certainly isn't struggling or fighting back. Without waiting for a response, Kahlil dashes forward, knocking the skull off the decaying shoulders of one of the bloated bodies. The stench is horrific, he swallows back the sudden urge to vomit.

[gynvael]

A split second where he almost thinks he misheard her. Fuck if he knows why. Perhaps some part of him had expected different solely because she knows Dean, because Dean's defended her more than once.

Then it sinks in. The air crackles. He moves lightning fast, slamming her against the blood-slicked wall with a low snarl that's more animal than it isn't. The chains rattle. It's fury, running cold, not hot; the dagger at her throat doesn't press against her skin, doesn't threaten to draw blood. It rests gently in that way which suggests he knows she's no match for him—not for a matter of skill but for what they each are. For what he is.

He has not noticed his eyes turned inky black, the darkened veins that spread. His nails where he grips her are sharp, claw-like. It is not just the presumption. It's that she is saying it here, in these walls, in a room built by humans and then destroyed by the same.

His voice is quiet. Death soaks everything around them, and it seeps right through him. "Say it again."

[gynvael]

[ His mouth snaps shut almost as soon as the words are out. Dean backs down, and Geralt's hackles go down, too. Just. He isn't trying to take this out on Dean. It's not Dean's fault. He wishes it was any time except right now, though.

He exhales. Shit. ] I can't get rid of it. What difference does it make why?

[ What will it solve? He doesn't want to talk about it. Not because he doesn't want Dean to know, but because the mere memory leaves a bitter, ugly taste in his mouth. He got over it. He moved on. So why does it feel so damn fresh all of a sudden? As though it happened yesterday?

That's what bothers him the most. Things surfacing he knows he put behind him long ago. (Except perhaps he didn't, truly.) ]

[righteously]

It matters. ( It's not pushy, just... firm. The why absolutely matters. ) Hell, not being able to get rid of it probably means it matters even more.

( Is it survivor's guilt? Is it loneliness? Fear? Does a small part of him want it there? Some reasons have solutions, and Dean's first impulse is always how do I help you fix it?

Not that he's delusional enough to think he's a freakin' therapist, like there's a damn thing he can do to help anybody process their screwed up psychology. He can't even help himself with that. Talking about it might not even come within spitting distance to solving anything, but...

It's something he can do.

Who knows, it might be a start to something that does. )

Come on, man.

( Level with me. )

[tobeclosetohim]

The only warning she has isn't much of one; there's the blur of a lunge, and then her shoulders and head crack back against a damp wall. There's the sharp kiss of a blade, against but not in, fingers digging in hard and unyielding, and when her head swings up, it's black shining demon eyes, veins of black around them, and the bottom barrel bitter vindication of being right.

That he's everything she called him out for being—that Dean's wrong.

But everything distorts around his voice. Each syllable is less clear. The words indistinguishable. His lips move, but all Jo feels is a slam of cold through her harder, farther, faster. Far more brutal and unyielding than those hands or the wall she's pinned against. Even as she's kicking out and up at him, there's the quick hiss of breath in between her teeth, like being dunked into a frozen lake—

( And then it's all gone. Geralt's gone. A flood pushing into that same space. Then. A windy street. A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes, shaking her head and smiling slyly. The growl that comes from her side. Running. Turning back to see Dean Dean Dean on the ground, shouting his name and turning back for him. No other option.


P A I N


More than she'd ever thought possible. )

And in Geralt's grip against the wall, Jo's body drops solid and complete as a stone into the hold of those clawed hands suddenly, as though her ability to stand, to hold her weight was just as suddenly ripped out.

( There's a floor; one she's not getting up from. Blood coming out as fast as she'd ever seen it come out of someone else. It only means one thing. Everything's moving so fast. That cold is coming back, here, too. Her feet. Her legs. Too many voices. She can't keep them straight. She can only just keep her back straight. Her head up. Too many voices. Too many faces. The same, but cracked. Refusal in their faces is the only fuel to keep it that way.

The plan is simple. The plan is easy. Child's math.
She just has to stay alive long enough to do it.

Press back the black just a little longer.


Even that doesn't go right. Sam. Dean.
Her mother staying. Because of her. For her.

Because she doesn't make it to the end even then.
There's the solidness of her mother's shoulder. A blast of heat. )

— Jo gasps loud and body-wracking hard; air a finite, terminal, impossibility one second ago.

[gynvael]

The rush that flows through him is the first thing he notices. Indescribable. Like being satiated when he'd not even realized he was hungry. Fills his lungs with his next breath.

Then Jo goes limp, dead weight in his grasp. He pulls back. It's not concern, exactly—nothing can really happen to you in the Horizon—but it's so damn unexpected, it startles the anger out of him. For the moment, anyhow. He'll remember when she wakes back up later.

(Though in some ways, he almost knows what happened. Does he not? Not in precise terms, but he knows he did it, that it came from him. A flood of power that leeched into her.)

One foot half-passes the threshold between the room and the corridor. The ground gives out. He falls—tumbling through nothingness. His back slams against hard ground. Jo collapses right on top.

She's fine. Probably. He can hear her pulse, at any rate.

He squints in the darkness. Where in the hell. "Fuck."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo barely has that breath back in her, the feeling of her body as her own, in one piece, and gravity up and vanishes. She's falling. They're—they???—are falling. A tumble of bodies. The sound of another person. The all-encompassing, suffocating too, terrifyingly familiar dark. And just when it seems like it won't stop, it stops. Jo crashed into the solid mass of the body, brain still shoving itself back together.

Feelings, images, cold, blood on her hands.
Feeling her life spill out in her hands.

Jo went to push up and found herself slightly weaker, disorientation roiling as she forced her vision into focus and scrambled right back off Geralt. It means she lands wrong, ends up on her ass first, and is still scooting back until she accidentally slams one shoulder into a wall; one that definitely shouldn't be this close. "What the hell did you just do?"

She knows. She knows. She.
Dean said. But that's not possible.

[gynvael]

[ Yeah. Well. Dean isn't necessarily wrong. Truthfully, it dug so deep he even went to fucking speak to Sam at the time. Unprompted. He's not sure it helped.

And that damn place is still there.

His eyes linger on Dean a moment longer. Then he grabs a bottle and takes the last few steps to one of the tables. He swings his leg over the bench. ]

What would you like me to say? [ He's quiet, no longer as sharply angry, but a marked bitterness edges his words, one he can't shake. His fingers curl around the bottle, unnoticed, until it whines. ] That the horrors in my head have taken root in a place that's built upon my thoughts and memories? That I can't construct a home without soaking it in blood?

[ It is not just that it's taken hold. Ciri shares this place with him. It's her home, too. And though he's been able to separate it in the past—that he knows what lies in his history doesn't mean he can't provide Ciri the home she deserves, that he has never hidden from her darker truths—right now, it slithers under his skin, the thought that she should have better. ]