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.

---

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

[thedevilwhorose]

"If he didn't pull out the wings, I would've just left," Lucifer says. Okay, okay, unlikely. But the option was still there. He shrugs. "He directly provoked me."

He changes his path to be more a meander, similar to the last time he was in this bar, so that while he's still closing the distance between them, it doesn't look like he's trying to go straight to her.

"You're young," he answers. "Impressionable," he says. Tilts his head, pitying, "and you let a Winchester impress upon you. I know, I know, I'm the devil and all that. You have no reason to trust me and mine. But those boys? Did you know they're meant to be the vessels of my brother and I? What that means for what they are?"

[righteously]

For a long series of seconds, he's too thrown by everything going on with Jo to even properly hear Geralt's question. Definitely too thrown to think about calling out for Ciri.

It's like whiplash, the hug and then immediate repulsion that follows it. That don't touch me which instantly spears him harder than it ought to, harder than she intended surely, harder than any healthy person would take it.

And then it's just living through my death-
-again.

That one's a two-parter.

"Again as in- again?" Which is a stupid question, and it sounds stupid, but it falls out of his mouth anyway.

Ciri steps in, and it makes for a fine excuse for him to step away in turn, to pass a hand over his mouth.

Okay.

You know what?

He can't deal with this right now. He can't. He needs to compartmentalize, he can't afford to lose his grip in the middle of something like this. Mission mode. Save the feelings for later.

"He's right," he mutters, nodding in Geralt's direction. "Either we move, or this place makes us move, and I'd like to keep the illusion of choice alive for another twenty minutes."

[righteously]

I don't know.

( He sighs, an answer to both questions in one. Gestures absently around with his blade, and tosses out his best guess: )

A crappier, somehow freakier Pan's Labyrinth? If your old man jumps out wearing a codpiece I'm gonna throw elbows.

( Gotta hit her with a double feature set of references she won't get back to back, obviously.

But anyway. )

How long you been in here?

[stations]

( It's probably not surprising by now that Jack's oddly calm and pliant under Kyle's weight. He gives his wrist a little wiggle, his fingers a little flex, but it's nowhere near the same neighborhood as trying to break out of the hold.

This... should probably bother him more than it does, shouldn't it? There's a reason, isn't there? He can't... think of what it is, he can't think of why — maybe because he isn't particularly motivated to. There's no reason to think about it so hard, right? )

Why the hell would I try to stab you? ( You're his only friend, Kyle. Don't be ridiculous. ) Also- this is an awkward question, but are we having, like, a moment? I'm just asking because I'm really bad at identifying that kind of thing, and I'm reserving my reaction until I know for sure so I don't embarrass myself.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo's jaw is still so hard set it's like her molars are sliding into whatever base is after married-and-conjoined. She can't look at Dean. She can't. Can't—doesn't want to explain. Not when he says again, and she wants to swear at her own mouth. But she can barely breathe around something so big it's beating the edges of her head and also curled up, dying in the cage of her ribs. And she can't do that here.

She can't look at that any harder than she was just forced to.

She can't look at him again just yet.

This leaves only one option, which means her eyes focus on Geralt, and there's bitter determination in her copper eyes, and words materialize, beating the back of her teeth. Even when she's not going to say them, she can feel them too clearly. What they would be. What her expression is. Still haven't thrown up.

Like it's some dick-measuring survivalist bravado,
right through the broken glass of her shattered teeth.

(You had one empty room, one tiny closet, and your own personal potpourri catalog ghost, and you lost your lunch; I've had my guts ripped out without warning twice, so wholly it killed me, twice, and I still have my breakfast.) Like that's something she'd imply a score card on to anyone but other hunters.

Jo swallowed, "Yeah, we should—" Breaks as a hand catches her arm, and she swings a little too fast, "Fucking da—" is as far as the words for Dean get when it's not Dean who decides to get in on the killer queen movie party in her head again, but Ciri. And that makes her sway back. It catches her flat, and she stiffens, bracing for the slam: but it doesn't happen. It nearly makes Jo sag, and beyond instinct and relief, Jo's other hand settles on top of Ciri's. "I'm, I'm okay."

There's no other acceptable answer, is there? They're still stuck here. There's no time for anything but being able to move. But that off-kilter swell of relief that it's not everyone (and no, she doesn't look at why them) makes her take a breath in, lightly squeezing Ciri's hand. Warmth slipped gently, and utterly unnoticed, through her fingers into the hand beneath it.

[satanicpanics]

Uh, yeah, I definitely was not.

[ He raises his eyebrows questioningly, but he doesn’t ask. Things happen here; sometimes that’s the only explanation. He was treated quite well when he was pulled out of the water in Solvunn, to the point that it felt incredibly strange to be doted on so much. ]

Yeah? But you opted for the desert instead. Not a whole lot grows out there.

[ He is definitely eying that mug with the bats, by the way. Bats are his thing, in both a good and bad way. ]

So why Cadens? I mean, if I’m not digging too deep by asking.

[ofthesword]

[No idea why it worked. But the less Nero questions this place, the more it's been working out in his favor. His claws dig through snow into what feels like rock as the mountain begins to shake, and he shoots up a glare to the fucking hands above them.

Nero gets to his feet, clenching his fingers, waiting to catch himself if the mountain begins to flip --

Gives him a good second to really appreciate Geralt in a fight. He's mostly been too into their practice fights himself to turn around and take it in, but even a few seconds tells him one real, hard fact:

Geralt is brutal. His movements aren't graceful or fun. They are simply force. Violence. Trained.

Credo would've loved it.

It's only a half-second, a fraction, of a thought, because in admiring Geralt's sword strokes he sees the ice flying through the air, straight as a bolt from a crossbow.

He's fought with Geralt, but he's never seen a shield. Never suspected the guy could make a shield. And, honestly, when it comes down to it, Nero is still pure instinct in a fight. He doesn't have the sword to strike them down, doesn't have the time to warn Geralt --

So he just moves in front of them. One. Two-three. Three of the shards of ice embedding into his chest in a quick rhythm as he hisses a fuck from between his clenched teeth. Blood dribbles down his (now even more hole-filled) coat to mix with the last frost's blood. He's pretty sure one of them went straight through.

That really does not feel. Healthy.] Ow. That's cold. [His voice echoes out of a demonic mouth, until the trigger falls through and his body turns back to its human form. Oh. Great timing.]

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo scoffs at his excuse. Since Dean hadn't even known the wings existed until then, but even if he had? That's a child's argument and an outright lie. There's no way Lucifer would have walked away without the wings even happening. A truth she's all too aware of while she's watching him across the far too-small space between them.

His second tactic choice is worse. Deciding to paint her as powerless, foolish, and not old enough, riding the rails of another voice who liked all the same examples and had lost a much longer battle of it than he'd ever get the choice of.

"Yeah. I do, and I know it still makes them better than all of you and the shit you put them through because they still keep coming out on the other side of it even though they shouldn't have had to deal with your bullshit to begin with."

[gynvael]

There's a moment where he looks back at Jo with a certain acknowledgment of something only they both know, but his attention is diverted in a split second once he hears Ciri coming their way. What visible exhaustion is swallowed down—the air around him shifting.

He moves towards her immediately. Looks her over to see if she's wounded. A protective instinct flares inside him, already present distrust amplified tenfold by a cold grip, and he steps half between Ciri and Jo without thinking twice.

Ciri does not know the things that have crossed Jo's mind and passed her lips, and he realizes that. Jo does not know, either, that Ciri is—to most—capable of far more destruction than any one Witcher. And he does not, despite the past few hours, yet trust what that knowledge may change and where Jo's razor sharp line between monster and human will sit when it's turned on his daughter.

What secrets this place may reveal about Ciri, he will not wait to find out. Dean is the only one who knows the truth. That's how he wants to keep it. He takes Ciri's arm, already quietly pulling her to his side. He's gentle with her, but the lines of his shoulders are hard.

"Let's go."

[thedevilwhorose]

Worth a shot. It doesn't matter, anyway, he thinks, grinning in a flash. He closes the distance between them, unable to help it. She's so nicely set him up and all, and he exudes Sannleikr's influences.

"Do they?" he mocks, leaning over the bar. His reflection catches on bottles and glasses. Too many different faces of vessels, and a fiery, wrathful, holy flicker of light overtaking them. "Sorry, who are we talking about again?"

[gynvael]

[ Instead of jagged ice through his eye, he gets a face full of Nero and blood pouring from the man's chest. Demon? He didn't miss Nero transforming so much as his brain filters out unimportant events in a fight. It's only now that he fully takes in the form before—

Fuck's sake. ]

Hey. [ He catches Nero, a flare of uncertainty and fear rising in him. It's natural, illogical, ignores the fact that they're in the Horizon not the real world. Ignores that he knows Nero is sturdier than a damn bruxa. There's a fucking frozen stake through Nero's middle. That's all he sees.

Then Nero speaks and—

He truly hates this little shit so much. ]

Shut up. [ He grunts. Wraps his hand around the ice. His palm heats around the icicle. Slowly, it begins to melt, shrinking until it disappears.

Which mostly just leaves Nero with the hole.

He eyes him. He's fairly sure Nero is all right if his arm grows back, but: ] You'll live?

[ Because if not, they're soon to find out if one can use Horizon magic to resurrect a body. ]

[ofthesword]

[First time he think he's ever been caught. Like this, at least. Kind of nice to hear a little concern for once, instead of another dressing down by Nico. (Not that'd ever have her anywhere this close to a frost, but --)]

Oh. Hey. Hot hands. [He braces himself with a hand on Geralt's shoulder, waiting for him to wrench one of the icicles out once it's melted enough, but it sort of just. Keeps going. Until it's nothing but water running down his pants.

Cool. That's a great feeling.

Nero covers the holes in his chest with a hand, spitting blood into the snow.] Yeah. Not the worst thing I've gotten in me. Hey -- don't take that the wrong way.

[His arm on Geralt's shoulder points out his index finger. Maybe it's just because it's thoughtless. Maybe the Horizon just works when it fuckin' wants. But for the first time, Blue Rose starts to materialize in his hand --

And the final frost gives a screech as something very similiar happens to it: something goes straight through its torso, cracking ice, splattering more black blood. And as that thing dislodges itself, Nero can see over Gerlat's shoulder it's the antlers of a

-- A fucking elk.]

Oh, now you show up? I've been trying to call you for a week! Where the hell have you been?

[Yes, he's talking to the elk. Which flings blood off its antlers, regards him with a look that nearly borders pity, and runs off into the brewing snowstorm.]

Asshole. [He looks back at Geralt.] Looks like you'll live too, big man. [The holes under his stomach begin to knit together, skin and muscle healing.] Not bad with Queen. [He tips his head towards his sword.] And your first time with some real demons.

[wiedzminka]

"Jo--"

Her hand settles over Ciri's fingers, and though Ciri's attention had already been on her, had caught on her as the first person she saw when she realized there was something wrong, suddenly it's like she can't look away. There is a warmth to the touch, reassurance in the press of Jo's fingers atop hers like a caress, tingling all up her arm. It should feel strange, but it doesn't.

"You're not hurt?" She's still addressing Jo, voice softer now, private. Like she doesn't even hear or notice Dean. Nor anyone else.

"The blood--"

[wiedzminka]

And that's when someone else grabs her arm, and jerks Ciri out of her focus on Jo in a way that feels unnecessarily harsh (it doesn't matter that the touch wasn't rough at all, not when it's pulling her away). Instantly, instinctively, she wrests free of the grip and puts distance between them, placing herself in front of Jo with hands up and teeth bared.

She hasn't been able to get her sword to manifest properly. But if it's needed, she might be able to manage something fairly sharp.

[gynvael]

[ The frost crunches as it rises behind them. He sees the gun form, is about to lean far away from the barrel—he's heard a rifle fire before; it isn't enormously pleasant to ears as sensitive as his—but then.

The fuck is—

Wait. He turns back to Nero, eyebrows raised. ]

Friend of yours? [ He watches the elk prance off with what he swears is an aura of self-satisfaction. The blizzard swallows it up. Blood stains the snow dark red, slicks his hands. Geralt sighs, pushing himself to his feet. The fight may have been brief, but the sun has still set in that time, sinking well below the nonexistent horizon. Night looms over the sky.

He hands Nero back his sword. ] Not an ounce of stealth.

[ Can hear that damn thing from a mile away. (It's got a certain charm, the sword. He'll not deny that.) ]

We need to find shelter. No reason to wander the dark.

[gynvael]

His medallion shivers against his chest. He reaches for it, automatic, his eyes fixed on Ciri. She doesn't answer him—pulls away from him so violently he lets her go without a second thought, startled.

He doesn't step back, but he doesn't move forward.

"Ciri—"

His gaze cuts to Dean. It isn't accusing, though there's an edge to it beneath the obvious question: worry, trepidation, uncertainty. Dean was the last one who saw her, has been with her this entire time. And if there's something Dean knows which he does not, he expects to hear it now.

[ofthesword]

Yeah. My elk. [He says, combined with a shrug, is about all the explanation Geralt seems to get for it. Nero checks the wounds, taking Red Queen and stabbing her into the snow while he waits.

His hand is bloodied when he takes it away, but the wounds are healed.

Still hurt like a bitch.]

Who said I needed stealth? This girl protects me just fine. [He gives his blade a pat, and as if acknowledgement, she disappears. Huh. Everyone seems to like doin' that lately once they've done their job.

A little annoying considering he's so used to Queen's weight on his back. Feels kind of naked without her, actually.]

Yeah, I guess so. 'Specially when I'm full of holes. Wind goes right through me! [He grins at Geralt, knowing he'll probably get another "shut up." And he's welcome, by the way. For the cool life-saving.] Guess we better keep goin' down. I'm not sure what's making those pop up here, but I'm willing to bet it's --

[He pauses. Squints into the dark again. He listens, waiting for another telltale crack of ice... but the wind's picking up, and as he turns around, up towards the peak, with the last vestiges of the sun still lighting it, the snow starts coming in harder.

Then: a light. But it feels like more than that. It's not the first time Nero's been in complete darkness. Surrounded by something much bigger than him. As the sun sinks and the snow swallows sound, it's like being there again. In that stupid fucking statue. Feeling the life sucked out of him, as solid as one of its hands squeezing around him. All he'd had in that darkness was a single spot of light.

Kyrie.]

Hey. [He starts walking past Geralt, forgetting about the disappearance of Red Queen, of the elk, of the frosts. There's just that light. Her.] Hey! Wait up!

[tobeclosetohim]

The sudden skip between hovering like a shark swimming in circles and deciding to step up so far he's leaning over the bar, and she takes a half step back before she stops. Before retreat is not a gameplay option she's allowing herself, and her jaw grits; her spine snaps back so straight it might crack from the force, but all that registers is the light glint flickers on the glasses and the way they all start shaking on the counter and the shelves. A raining, rattling tinkle that's every bit as wrong.

"Better people than you," Jo grits it out almost at a beat per each second word, leaning into the bar, not away, even as something doesn't feel right.

The righteousness is untainted, maybe even more stubbornly ground for the aggressive directness, but the podium it was around isn't. But at the same time, right a millimeter under that, it feels familiar and right in the way it has so often over the last few weeks. Warmth rising through her spreading, like calling to like, the same affliction from both ends. It's so much easier to lean into the second feeling than care about the first.

[gynvael]

[ His elk. That's.

All right. Geralt accepts that without further comment. Nothing about Nero makes sense; he can acknowledge that the man can regrow an arm, sprout a tail, turn into a demon, and apparently summon an elk to ram enemies with its antlers.

He shakes his head and walks off. If it were anyone else, Geralt would have thanked them. It's Nero, so he doesn't. Not verbally. The understanding exists in the space where words are not spoken. It's not the point, that Nero would not have died. He still took a blow meant for Geralt. And that means something to him. Perhaps more so because—

Hm. It's difficult to explain. His thoughts are disrupted anyhow when Nero stops talking. Starts to walk in a completely opposite direction, faster and faster. ]

Nero— [ Geralt catches up, reaching for Nero's arm. He stares into the night, trying to make out what could be there. Nothing. No sound, no light, no shape. Just the blizzard and screaming winds. ] What is it?

[hairington]

[ she knows enough about what to expect from this sort of forest to walk with quiet steps, to always have a weapon on her. it will do her good to have that in hand, malfunctions or not, because there is nothing riskier than walking through these woods without anything.

thunder cracks above her, a streak of red lightning lighting the sky. she may, or may not, hear some distant rummaging - a creature out in the shadows that hasn't yet picked up on her presence, but there is no telling how long it will last. hopefully she knows to step over the vines, to avoid touching anything significant about the trees, because if she so much as grazes one, the creature will immediately sense her, will know exactly where she is.

if she keeps moving, though, she might hear the rumbling of a car. if she keeps safe for long enough, it may catch up to her, though it is up to her if she assumes it is a friend or foe. ]

[hairington]

[ it's definitely grown, and as geralt gets to his feet, steve takes slow steps away from it, adjusting his grip on the bat over and over again. he can take a bunch of these dogs, he's done that multiple times before, but the big thing? the creature that is very much still on its feet? that is somehow getting bigger and bigger and bigger. fear riles up in steve's gut, but he grinds down on his teeth to keep it held in.

throw another geralt's voice is rough but firm, authoritative, and steve feels himself immediately looking to follow. his eyes go from the creatures slowly approaching around him, then quickly glance to geralt, as if making sure. but he's already focused on his bike, on getting it up on its wheels, and while steve considers if it's worth it to put down his weapon to light another- ]

Oh, fuck it. [ he whispers to himself, and in quick succession he drops his bat and is pulling out another molotov cocktail, pulling out his lighter, trying to very quickly get this lit even as the dogs start howling, make a move to pounce towards them, but-

the streak of white nearly has steve stumbling over himself, nearly dropping the bomb, but he doesn't. he won't. the white wolf snarls, knocking the closest of the dogs off its legs and taking the attention away from steve and geralt which is...actually, very very helpful. steve comes back to the topic at hand, lights the fabric at the top of the cocktail, and winds up, taking a few steps and launching it as far as he can towards what steve has always assumed is its head. almost simultaneously, geralt says get on and steve is bending down to pick up his bat, rushing over to the back of the bike and climbing on behind geralt without even a second thought with his bat in one hand, bag over his shoulder, steve's eyes are on the mind flayer, watching it rear back from the massive spread of flame. ]

Go, go, go!

[nightwash]

Despite its massive size, the Greywaren is a pliable thing. Wanda's magic captures it without the slightest resistance, and the creature's writhing shadows mold into the form she wills it. It can't simply stop feeding — it would bleed and evaporate into nothing without the energy that keeps it tethered to this world — but it stops drawing from the domain and turns its hunger to the very magic that's holding it prisoner.

It doesn't need very much when all it's doing is keeping still. The sparks of light between its unfathomable shadows flash less frequently as the storm compresses into a much more manageable form. It begins to look almost human-shaped.

Where am I?

The creature doesn't remember how to form words the way humans do. Regardless, because this is the Horizon, the question permeates the air as inarticulate yet tangible confusion.

[nightwash]

Without any passion in the gesture, Ronan salutes Sasarai with his middle finger. He's doing the best he can. It's not his fault humans don't have the words for what he's trying to say.

Anyway, he's finished for now. Dragging himself to his feet, he does a halfhearted job of shaking the dirt from his robes. He's going to have to go upstairs and change if he really wants to look presentable for the court, but he's not in any hurry.

"That thing inside you," Ronan says, his thoughts returning to Sasarai. "Have you been seeing that thing anywhere? Like, out of you. By itself. In mirrors?"

[gynvael]

[ The instant Steve's weight settles behind him, Geralt takes off. Goes straight down the path that led him here, hoping Steve's domain remains unchanged, that the roads haven't somehow trapped them in here. They swerve around a forest's edge, back towards the entrance and out. The wheels cross the threshold—

—and lurches. Like an unseen bump in the trail. Then they're falling, dropping; the ground rushes to meet him. He slams against a hard surface, rolling with it as best he can. The bike goes skidding off the roof—shatters with a metallic crunch and squelch far below.

For a second, he's just. Physically stunned, breath knocked out of him and a jagged pain in his arm that says he smashed it against something too sharp. His hands are bloodied from where the creature's teeth pierced his palms. They are not in Steve's domain anymore, he realizes. They're...

Oh. ] Fuck.

[ He pushes himself upright, turning to search for Steve. See if he's all right. ]

[cryptsleeper]

[It's one of the nice things about Geralt, really. Alucard can say something and there is no follow up. No prying questions, only acknowledgement of something before moving on. It allows for unburdening truths without dwelling on them.

The blender is...

...shit.]

I've...been so occupied with other matters that it slipped my mind. [He shakes his head, mortified.] I've been so occupied with the cistern and finding means of heating the place in the cold nights without needing fire that everything else has been placed to the side.

[No matter, in the end.]

Any theories on what caused the Singularity to act like this this time?