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?

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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.

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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

[cryptsleeper]

Most things here have proven hardy.

[Alucard can't recall any true, long term damage to domains. If he was in the waking world, he'd point out that it doesn't matter, one could always make a new version. But he's here, in his Domain, where his head is clear. Alucard readjusts his blanket slightly, and the chair groans slightly.]

I suppose. [And, because he knows it will come up:] It's no place in particular. I know most have chosen to recreate home to some degree or another.

[cryptsleeper]

One we're going to have to set off. [There has been no back tracking in this space, so far as Alucard can tell. Or at least, every time he has tried, the maze has simply turned him right back to the spot he was trying to walk away from.

The unsaid question of you or I? hangs heavy in the air. Too heavy. Alucard tenses suddenly, a cold air blowing through him. The sensation of something cold and metal against his neck.]

[aquilus]

More than a few.

[Altaïr tenses, shifts in place; he'd tell the other man to be careful, or wish him luck, but they're far past any of that. He's chosen to fight, and Altaïr will respect that enough not to patronize him.

The next wave of ghouls is upon them and he falls into the rhythm of combat immediately, his awareness sharpened by the knowledge that fighting dead men is not like fighting the living, and he can't fully rely on his experience. His sword arm is steady, his blade sharp, but numbers are numbers and they could easily be overwhelmed if they're not focused.

At one point he spots a particularly vicious-looking ghoul lunging for the other man, who's occupied with his own combatants, and darts between them to take it out — his arm brushing against his companion as he does. What Altaïr doesn't know, or perhaps can't, is what that touch and his presence imbue: a vision of death, vividly powerful despite not being real. At least not yet.]

[righteously]

There aren't many things that make Dean's blood run cold in an instant, but a certain kind of howling definitely does the trick. It's a ways off, and he's tempted to steer them in the direct opposite trajectory — until he hears the sounds that follow. The snarls, the whines, the tussle of something dying. That's not the kind of ruckus he can ignore.

They move closer, and closer — and then the sounds go silent.

He murmurs a soft wait here to Ciri, complete with a gently appealing, pleading look if it doesn't seem like she's keen to listen, and then heads off down a dark corridor as silently as he can manage.

The blood comes into view first, the carnage, the animal corpses, the otherwise invisible body he only notices because of the way blood clings to something where there should be nothing — and then the exhausted duo slumped against the wall. It's knee-jerk panic that has him scoping out Jo before he says anything, tracking his eyes over her stomach just to make sure it's not-

But she's fine.

They both are.

They're both fine, and sitting in companionable proximity? On... purpose. What the hell.

That's a weird enough realization to prompt him into ambling forward again, and he announces himself with a grim, "You two look like crap."

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard moves along the walls easily. His feet are always certain of where they're going to go, and he manages an acceptable distance so that Sylvain might perform his experiment without accidentally swiping the dhampir by accident.

A worthy one, it seems. Alucard can clock what graves have yet to spill forth their contents or have given them up, and this wave should be the last for a while.]

I see them.

[And frankly, he'd like to take a break. The dhampir is quick to hop off of the wall itself, and instead use his sword to usher the remaining round of the dead towards Sylvain's spear. Doing so feels cruel, but better a quick dispatch at this point.]

[gynvael]

The last thing he expects to hear are footsteps. Geralt freezes, attention snapping up immediately. Over the stifling smell of blood and gore and wet fur, he catches a familiar scent—relaxes again even as his expression takes a flash of surprise.

How the fuck—?

No. Forget it. The Horizon being what it is, he can't expect any rhyme or reason as to who arrives when or why. Instead, he looks back up at Dean: equally grim, an edge of wryness beneath. He can't decide if he's relieved to see Dean or not. Three of them trapped in this place can't bode well for their chances of leaving, but...

Another hunter couldn't hurt.

"Someone's late to the carnage."

[gynvael]

[ He's on his feet in an instant, bending down to snatch his sword. Steve isn't wrong: belly sliced open yet it's hardly slowed. They need to leave. It's just a matter of how that makes a difference as to whether they'll make it or if it'll be a short-lived chase.

His attention is fixed on the looming creature. Is it just him or has it fucking grown since he laid eyes on it a second ago? ]

Throw another. [ The order comes urgent, but firm.

Geralt rights the bike sprawled on the ground. These machines have their uses, but the lack of responsiveness and instinct that a horse would possess is a hindrance. The upside, they hold no fear. It means the swarming dogs and roaring flaming monster have no impact on his mount. The bike rumbles to life. A howl pierces beneath rolling thunder. A split second where he thinks: The fuck? The streak of white fur blurs into view; he decides not to waste time wondering if he called it unbeknownst or if his wolf arrived on its own at the beckoning of the Horizon. A distraction is a distraction—and they sure as fuck need one right now.

Seems as though they're about to find out if creatures can chase past the borders of one's domain.

He's certain he needn't say it, but: ] Get on.

[assembles]

[ They're having to learn a specific sort of dance, how to maneuver around each other while Matt has to use his ears to do all the work. Steve doesn't want to get in his way, and waits until Matt's flung himself at another one of the undead before he takes off to collect his shield.

He has to body-block one of the zombies in the process, but they're fragile enough that they're fairly easy to knock to the ground.

This one is persistent, though, in that even while it's knocked down its fingers reach out to snatch at his ankle, aiming to bring Steve down with it. He stumbles forward into a roll, managing to get away from it and grab his shield at the same time. ]

What, you worried?

[ Tossing around light banter in the middle of a fight comes easily to Steve, as he sends his shield back for a direct hit against the zombie that grabbed for him. It hits it square in the skull, with a sickening crunch. ]

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo doesn't think to question it. The steps, the appearance, Dean being Dean, even in this place where everything has been fucked upside down against them for hours. There is no stop, no pass go, no collect two hundred dollars. One second it's the faintest shuffle of steps, and she's tensing, and the next, it's Dean's voice, and Jo's pushing up off the ground, a straight shot in his direction before he's finished those words. "Dean."

If she took a second, she might have checked a lot of things, including the sudden blossom of relief too big and broad and overwhelming or that strange current of something too sharp, too tragic to compare it to the candle-flicker shadow that was 'sadness.' But Jo doesn't. All Jo knows is one moment, she's scrambling up, striding fast past piles of bodies, and the next, she's nearly collided into his chest already.

Like, somehow, he's the one that isn't real,
more than would make sense about her.

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier's grasp around his hand startles him out of his thoughts. Geralt grips him back, pulls him to his feet. He glances back towards the direction of Bleobheris. What had happened? Why had the little creature chased Jaskier out? Moglad is a drunk and an idiot, but he's always loved Jaskier. Of course. He was crafted out of Jaskier's heart, after all.

Perhaps...

He looks back at Jaskier. Cursed. He huffs. He is not certain it is so simple as that. ]

There was a dream. I saw... [ He shakes his head. ] I've been feeling. Different.

[ He wants to say not like himself, but that isn't quite it. Everything he feels, it is real. They are feelings, thoughts, he has held for a long time. Learned to accept them and keep them at bay and carry on, but now it's as though they consume him unchecked. Fear, anger, all of it surging at the back of his throat at a moment's notice.

That isn't why he's here, though. There are more pressing matters. ]

Jaskier, I can't find Julie. She's— [ Missing? Lost? ] She's gone into the Horizon, but she isn't here.

[ I was worried the same befell you. He'd gone to Jaskier for his help, but also seeing Jaskier in the Horizon out in the physical world, he'd...he'd wanted to be sure. That Jaskier was not lost, as well. ]

[righteously]

For a second, the bodies on the ground don't matter. The toothy, bony, viscerally uncomfortable blade in his hand doesn't matter. The mark on his arm, his bad attitude, the way things have been going to shit, the fact that they're in an impossible maze, none of it matters.

What matters is her sprinting at him, and the mindless, automatic response of winding his arms around her tightly, and full-on lifting her off the ground an inch or two. A moment passes, and he pulls back to cup her cheek, to get a better look at her close up. Scanning for any injuries that he might've missed from across the distance.

"Hey. You okay?"

[nadine_he_loves]

This...doesn't look good.

This is the sort of situation, where, had Nadine a gun, she'd be firing it already. When a threat presents itself, her first impulse is to shoot it. But she's unarmed and the threat has projectiles. And she has to get up on a horse. On her own.

Nadine is not a horse person. She avoids them whenever she can, only riding when it's really the best course of action. Like venturing out into the desert. There isn't exactly time to look for an appropriate sized rock or tree stump to use as a mounting block, and Geralt is Busy.

She might have been able to scramble up herself, with a few minutes of time, but she doesn't have a few minutes. Two of the strangers are rapidly closing in on her and she knows if she starts struggling to haul herself up she's going to make herself an easy target.

"Shit."

Rather than present her unguarded back to the probably assailants, and distract herself with the effort of ground-mounting when unskilled at it, she turns and calls a ball of fire into her palm. It's perhaps not the most impressive of fireballs, barely worthy of the name 'ball', but maybe it will be something of a deterrent...

[gynvael]

[ Wait. She knows what they are? Hm. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. There's always been some odd commonalities between their spheres. Hers is also the only one so populated with a variety of races much like the Continent. ]

You can't summon it? [ That's a concern. He glances over her shoulder, as though wondering if it were trapped in a tree in the snowstorm as before. Then he looks back at her.

He sighs, setting his sword on the table and sitting atop it. ] If you like. Makes little difference.

[ It grows back, keeps making itself at home. He knows why the leshy is haunting this place, and he's accepted that that's just how it is to be for the foreseeable however the fuck long. ]

It doesn't like fire. I assume yours are the same.

[ Tree-like monsters. The logic follows. ]

[funbreaker]

You may be right about that.

[ Most who lived in Garlemald hated the cold, but there were some who seemed more capable of bearing it than others. Or maybe they had simply forgot what true warmth felt like. Who could say?

Thancred does find some comfort in hearing that he isn't the only one being toyed with by the Horizon. That doesn't necessarily make the situation better; in fact, it might make it worse. But neither of them have to suffer this awful place alone.

Thancred isn't prepared for Sylvain to give up his coat for him like this, as if he's a shivering maiden. ] I'm— [ But the heavy cloak has already been settled over his shoulders before he can protest, and he sighs, causing his breath to mist up in the air. ] I'm certain I could make it work, but your point is well taken. Now...

[ He glances toward the high peak of the mountain glistening above, as well as the path that would take them further down. ] Which way? [ Did it matter, or did they simply have to wait this out? ]

[tobeclosetohim]

Oh. That's all her brain seems to have once she's inside Dean's arms. Oh. The least profound, yet overwhelming, yet relieved, feeling. Solid. Warm. Safe. In one piece. Her fingers ball into his shirt without caring if it is in any better, worse, or similar state. Like maybe she could ball the entirety of herself into the space of Dean Winchester's arms.

When he pulls back, she has a second long enough to feel an odd stroke of déjà vu—about his face being this close?—before his fingers cup her cheek. She has only half a millisecond to feel the battering ram that pushes through the edge of her, about to drag her with it. Even as the last ditch understanding sirens behind it, and Jo tried to make her hand let go of him, it was already too late.

Her eyes go wide, and then her back contorts with a shudder. And then another.

( It's a weird overlap this time.
Jo's not utterly obliterated by the unknown.

She knows it now; even still bleed-burned from the first time, it's not foreign. Her weight doesn't free fall, and her legs don't plummet out from under her right after Dean yells for her to get back like that was a skill Jo was ever going to learn. Retreat. She doesn't lose the texture of that shirt knotted under one set of her fingers when Dean sweeps her off the ground and goes running off with her down that street.

She can still feel the weight of her body on her feet, even when she's unable to do more than half-situp. Everything is the same, and it's not. Or it is, but it's like Dean's in starker relief. The fear in his eyes inside the store. The inability to argue that her plan was a good one. When everything is fuzzy, except her refusal to be made useless, worthless, capable of at least this much more before the darkness swallows everything.

Except it is coming, and the memory catches up with the déjà vu.

With Dean this close. With the joke, that isn't funny. That she won't have, even as she tries to push through it for a smile. The detonator. The gun. The cup of his hand against her face and her hair, and the press of his lips against her forehead, just the strike of too long, decimating that last few inches of will that have kept her eyes mostly dry and her chin up for hours. More exhausting than bleeding out and almost more necessary than that blood.

Dean kissing her until he wasn't, until it was just his forehead resting against hers, the pressure of both of them leaning into each other, tears in her eyes, and the feeling of something so much bigger than her dying between them, too. )

[a_better_man]

At least he is not stranded in this nightmare of a place alone. But...damn. Where the hell is that - very familiar, or so he hopes - voice coming from? There's an off quality to it that Mat can't place.

"Hallo?" He looks around and then drops to his hands and knees, to approach the edge of the tower-thing that he's on top of. Last thing he wants is to fall off, it seems like high ground is the safest.

"I can't see you..."

Because he's looking over the wrong edge. It's hard to place directions in this realm. All he's certain is that it's below him somewhere near.

"Keep talking!"

[nadine_he_loves]

"I honestly don't know how I got here."

Nadine spreads her hands helplessly in an apologetic gesture.

"I meant to pop up in my domain, not yours. I...wouldn't even know how to get to yours." She's never been here before. Even with her motorcycle, she doesn't just go galivanting through other people's domains. Just the ones around hers that she knows and knows she's welcome in. And occasionally passing through others on her way to Geralt's or Dean's.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I really don't know what happened. I...guess I was distracted?"

[assembles]

[ Confused is a natural way to feel about all this. Steve knows that the Horizon has gone haywire before, but not to this degree. It's almost as if sights they're not meant to see are seeping through. But where did this all come from? Someone's mind, or the Singularity itself?

In a way, there's a relief to know that Wanda's just as baffled as him about this. That it isn't coming from her, somehow. It's not a thought he wants to have, but it flits through his mind anyway.

He steps into the apartment with her, wondering if it ever belonged to someone or if it's just a concept given form. ]

I haven't. If you're not picking up on anything, then we're probably alone.

[ Horizon domains are usually that way, but this feels different somehow. Why all the apartments if no one occupies them?

Steve leads them through the front door and out into the hall. As expected, there's no one to be found, just rows and rows of doors on either end. Steve can't get that sickly sweet smell out of his nose, though. ]

I think the only way we can go is up. Let's look for a stairwell.

[shadowthief]

He might be surprised to find that she hadn't known about angels at all in the sense that he is one before she'd come to this world.

"He's in one of the other factions," she explains, only then, in that moment, realizing she doesn't even know which of the other two that he is in. "He made quite the point to be sure I knew he was... more." Than human. Than Angel. Both.

That first meeting with Lucifer when she was doing an old tightrope routine had been odd- and every instance she's seen him since has mixed more and more of her feelings about the other Archangel. Between the respect that she ascribes to anyone that could tip their hat into the general umbrella of Divinity and the actions that Lucifer had taken against her friends in the hunting grounds in Nocwich. Which... none of them know she witnessed but that doesn't make it any more okay, either... It's just really complicated, okay?!

"This isn't- my domain, by the way," since he sort of answered her call to Sankt Demyan and he has no reason to think anything else. She's sure Kyle wouldn't mind an angel in his temple or anything, but she'd rather be clear on that at the outset, here. "My friend has welcomed me to pray here any time." She's not sure there's a church or temple or anything quite so magnificent as this in all of Ravka.

[hextechhead]

Yeah, for all my creativity in certain areas, I think I would not know what to do with a completely open canvas.

[ Meaning he doesn't know how he would make a domain from scratch. Jayce has a bright and expansive mind but he does usually have it very grounded in reality. Like the toolmaker he is, he starts with the familiar and goes from there. He wonders what he would actually make, given the chance, without any reference. Maybe a forest, who knows. ]

Viktor already had our lab when I got here, so it seemed obvious to add mine to his. Otherwise, there'd just be two replicas of the same thing.

[ The two of them naturally did it, they didn't consider for a moment needing to split up when one place was so much more logical. And Jayce wanted to be close to him. ]

Can I sit?

[ Since he's staying here, apparently. ]

[thedevilwhorose]

"Ohhhh," Lucifer sings, low. He tilts his head. Whistles. "The Big Guy wants to dance?" He flicks his attention to the sword, then the wolf. Interesting. Clicks his tongue. "What, don't tell me you're a werewolf? Or some little pack creature of sorts. Hmmm. That would explain some of why he keeps you around."

He clicks out a switchblade that might look eerily a lot like Ciri's--weird, right?--and shifts his stance, blade held loosely down at his side, slightly behind, his empty hand ahead.

He raises his brows.

He will not make the first strike. He's better than that.

[shadowthief]

"True enough," she nods her agreement with him, falling into easy step with him when he steps toward the corridor to their left.

The darkness of the new corridor is a little unsettling, but Inej is generally used to doing most of her job back in Ketterdam under the cover of darkness in the night, so she isn't too bothered by that fact alone.

"How bad are things on the outside over there? Cadens is...practically flooding with the walking corpses," it's part of what had sent her into the Horizon to begin with. And given then recent atrocity of the bombing from Thorne on Libertas, there's a nice, fresh wave of dead to be affected by this current curse plaguing the city.

[cryptsleeper]

[What Alucard thinks that's actually quite sad, you know does not leave lips. Whatever is the issue in the waking world, it has proven not to be at play here. All the better, and certainly all the more reassuring.]

Yes, that does seem a bit redundant.

[To Jayce's question, Alucard arises from his own rocking chair and heads into the depression hut. He comes out with a kitchen chair and a blanket draped over the back. It is easy enough just to set it beside his own spot, then resume his own comfortable lounging.]

I've heard from others that creating things has been an issue lately. So, you'll have a less comfortable chair. Apologies.

[shadowthief]

Being in a desert city doesn't leave Inej well-equipped for the frozen tundra she has been rather unceremoniously dropped into. She has been here for awhile by now, without coming across anyone. Or maybe it felt longer than it had been because of the cold.

Still. A voice carrying on the wind is a relief and she gasp softly when she realizes she recognizes that voice. "Sam?" she calls back, loud as she can get against the howl of the wind.

It takes some careful traversing to find her way to him– she continues to find herself in debt to Jesper for the Fabrikator slippers, they make it easier to grip even against the snow– but eventually, she can make out the shape of him in the distance. "Sam!" she calls out again, waving an arm to catch his attention. Thank the Saints.

Jack Skellington | Solvunn | Koth

[doubledead]

Solvunn

"Hello? Anyone? A little help?" Jack wasn't used to crying out for help. Or crying out at all save for frightening people. The skeleton had perched himself high up in a tree and said tree was surrounded by a throng of reaching, grabbing skeletons not terribly unlike himself--though not as nicely dressed. His cloak hangs in shreds at his knees as he uses the trunk to steady himself and lean over the small clambering hoard. He'd seen plenty of unruly crowds--he was a popular figure back home. Sometimes his fans got a little out of control. But none of them had tried to take a piece of him before.

It was very troubling. And if he wasn't imagining things, it seemed the longer he stayed in his tree the more rotting beings seemed to appear. He couldn't reason with them. At first he'd been thrilled to see other bones up and walking around, but when they wouldn't return his greetings or answer his questions, he began to grow frustrated. And only when what had once been a steer lunged forward and knocked him flat on his back did he finally become afraid.

He hoped very much that none of them would think to climb. Maybe he ought to look into carrying a weapon in the future.


THE FOOL - Horizon

"Rats and bats," mumbled Jack to himself as he stood on the edge of what seemed to be a bottomless pit. It was wider than he was tall and spanned the entire width of the hallway. He felt weary just looking at it, the gloom overtaking him. What if he just threw himself in. Then he wouldn't have to travel around alone in this maze--that's what it was. A maze. He at first thought maybe he was in a castle or a crypt. But it went on and on and on and at one point a huge stone from the ceiling had fallen and nearly crushed him.

As Jack peered into the hole and dreaded turning around to talk that long passage back to the fork he took, he wondered if perhaps he had done something to make all of this happen. Could it be his fault?