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

EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Event #10 - Affliction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scenes to Explore
JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
What if we don't play the game, I wonder?

[But as he says it, he doesn't think he can just sit still. The itch to get out is pumping through him, pushing him to move even now as they're standing here talking. So much that it's obvious as he nods at her suggestion about direction and he turns abruptly, heading the way he came.] There's an intersection not too far from here; we can try one of the paths I haven't gone down. How long have you been here already?
stations: (56)

[personal profile] stations 2022-10-31 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
( Damn it. That was below the belt — literally. Also... a really good one. Like, annoyingly good. Jack hates him so much.

Time to start brainstorming a good come-back. You wish you were a real boy - no, that's terrible. Something about being god's puppet? Not really snappy. Also, might get him another fist through his chest.

God, this is hard to do with these screens blaring in his peripheral vision.
)

If this was me, shouldn't you be able to... undo it or something? You're the devil. I work at a gas station.
wiedzminka: (eighty-one.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2022-10-31 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
Ciri shoots Dean a look at the word 'kiddo,' one that says everything she thinks about him calling her that without needing a single syllable, but her icy stare doesn't linger; her attention snaps back immediately to the threat.

She's seen all sorts of shit in this endless maze while wandering around with Dean, but he'd always seen it too. Now, she's suddenly unsure -- and that uncertainty multiplies, worms its way through her mind and grips her with a barbed and clinging paranoia that makes all the muscles in her neck and shoulders tense up. Her palms itch for the feel of a sword hilt snug against them, and she falls by habit into a braced stance, standing her ground to fight.

"Shit like this?" she asks Jo, jerking her head toward the stranger. The thing. The monstrous manifestation with the shape of a man and skin the color of a corpse, the jaw opening, flesh and sinew visible through rotted cheeks.

Despite her failed attempts before, Ciri focuses on pulling any sort of weapon from the erratic fabric of this warped Horizon. A sword. A knife. A fucking stick, even.

"Stay back, Jo."

Jo, specifically. Ciri can't help but be aware of her, the desire to defend her friend while she is shaken, possibly injured, the overwhelming desire that underlies all that anger and aggression spilling over in her blood.

What appears in her hand is inspired in part by Dean's own blade, a last-ditch attempt at summoning something that isn't what she's been trying for the last few hours or however long it's been. Ciri's grip tightens around the piece of bone -- long, carved and sharpened to a fine point on one end. This time, the weapon doesn't dissolve or malfunction. It feels solid in her grip. Right.

"I'll take care of it."
thedevilwhorose: » hallucination (the prayer)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not skilled in Abraxan magic, which is powered by the Singularity, which is likely why we're currently stuck in the Horizon in a conversation neither of us want. [The problem is everything he's stated is accurate. He thinks maybe if this was anything else that he could break through it.

But this is all still new to him and while he's stopped being resistant to learning, it's been lower on his to-do list.]
stations: (119)

[personal profile] stations 2022-10-31 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
Sure. ( Utter deadpan. ) Well, it's not me.

( And he doesn't feel any particularly strong urge to prove it. Lucifer can believe him or not, they're stuck either way. )

I may not know how to leave, but I do know how to get out of a conversation neither of us want. So.

( He gives the controller a little wave. )

I'm gonna go back to this. Good luck with your whole- whatever. When you get bored and give up in like four hours, you can be Luigi.

( That last bit is totally facetious, he has approximately zero percent belief Satan himself will stoop low enough to sit on the floor and play video games with him. He turns back around anyway, and unpauses his game. Cue the 16-bit music. )
gynvael: (304)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-31 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
The light that spills out of the form is startling, bright, a blinding flash that distracts him before his pupils dilated for the darkness can adjust. Lucifer slips free. Geralt spins on his heel; some of it is from how much he can't see past Lucifer anymore, some of it is just him: relentless, unshakable, once he's made the choice to lock himself in a fight.

And absolutely not one to waste his breath on words. Blood drips from his fingers. It does not bode well that none of the cuts or stabs register. Geralt is not too proud to retreat—he runs on pure survival—but he can recognize when he's better off standing his ground.

(That blood will probably taste of concentrated toxin, like if one poured the essence of several monsters and foul herbs together in one vial, then shook it.)

The corridor's too narrow to dodge out of Lucifer's path. He braces himself instead, the two of them crushed into a corner. His teeth flash, not quite sharp yet but close. The blade grows hot, flesh sizzling until he finally lets go with a snarl.

He's not thinking too hard when he does it. His hand goes up, grasping Lucifer's arm. The vines curled around the walls shiver, withering. For the first time, the cries go silent—sucked right out of the room, every dying scream pushed into his sole target.
gynvael: (207)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-31 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
She sounds like Ciri, but it is not. It can't be, because he's seen her look at him with so many expressions that have wrenched his heart: fear, rage, frustration, disappointment, shame. But she has never looked at him with such emptiness.

Except the once. When Voleth Meir invaded her mind.

The blade forms in her hand, bone and ivory. His gaze grows sharp. (Where—?)

No. That's not possible. And why should a demon give a shit about defending another human? Dean is right. This place. It's fucking with them. Nothing about it is meant to make sense beyond that. Logic tells him none of this is real, and yet it is. The sting from the reminder of that night, when so much of his fucking world fell apart, is real. That ever-present fear he will lose her is real.

He looks at Dean, and slowly shakes his head: whatever is happening, he doesn't think either Dean's nor Jo's interference will help.

Instead, he crouches down, gently laying down his dagger and sliding it away.

"Ciri, look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."
righteously: (tumblr_inline_mzw91oWQQ01sui5vc)

[personal profile] righteously 2022-10-31 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
He gets the look. Gets the intent, gets the scenario — he's been here before, on both sides. Mostly with Sam. There wasn't a single voice outside of their own that could get through to them.

It's gonna be the same here.

He edges back slowly, quietly, until he's just behind Jo. Wraps a discreet hand around her forearm, and gently tugs her back. If she looks, he'll shake his head at her gently.

He doesn't love it, but... they're on the bench for this one.
righteously: (tumblr_inline_n1sdwbjR1Z1sui5vc)

[personal profile] righteously 2022-10-31 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
( Yep, it's a familiar routine now. He says a thing, she looks annoyed about the thing, they ignore the thing and immediately move on without comment. He's used to it from her, from Geralt, from Cas, from... pretty much everybody.

He huffs out a fatigued sound.
)

Like an hour. I'd say it's nice to see a familiar face, but... this place sucks ass.

( Wouldn't wish it on her for his sake. )

It's just walls on walls on walls. I'm bored outta my mind.

( He's gonna regret saying that sooner rather than later. )
tobeclosetohim: (It's funny how the words can't explain)

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-31 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
Jo doesn't know what in the world to make of the things Ciri keeps saying over that shoulder at her, while looking at Geralt, and if Ciri weren't taller, Jo'd probably be making a bewildered expression at Geralt over that shoulder. But she is taller, and she's starting to head into really fucking weird territory — while sounding like Ciri's trying to protect her?

Ciri, who knows well and truly Jo can take care of herself,
and that in what she can't, Jo's learning that from her.

Jo looks to her side at the tug, and there's a pinch to her expression that collides with not abandoning them and the realization that Dean Winchester is still fucking shit at listening to what anyone else tells him to do. But her eyes linger on that hand on her arm, and when it doesn't happen again, she nods uncertainly. A little slow. A few steps away, but not leave them here. It's a cold relief, the solid touch on her arm—like Ciri's hand; that hug right before—and the Rolodex she's not swinging through.

It seemed that the labyrinth had shifted roulette on who to fuck with more now. There's no gratitude in that. They don't deserve it, either. There's a part of Jo that would have rather kept being at the fucked up, circle-spun center, rather than whatever this was turning into.
thearchangel: (Did I leave the gas on?)

[personal profile] thearchangel 2022-10-31 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
His head cants to the side, curious. The statement definitely jogs the urge to ask. But with the way Steve trails off, the way he changes the subject, he doesn't think it's a good idea to push. Not now. Steve isn't under an investigation here, if the guy doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't have to.

Instead, he turns his attention to the door, frowning.

"I usually can, yeah. Shepard generated -" Which is a much easier word to use than summoned or conjured. "- the rest of the Normandy. Out there's the rest of the ship. Her ah. Domain, right?"

That's the right word, he's almost absolutely certain. "If we're allowed to walk into other peoples' then - I don't see why not?" He knows he can, but he also knows Shepard. They're from the same world. Same ship. They're comrades, and more. It just makes sense he can walk into hers - and she his. "I can try and call up a galaxy map down here, though. Won't be as big or detailed, but it's better than nothing."
familysucks: (04)

[personal profile] familysucks 2022-10-31 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
Michael would be more than surprised that she hadn't already been familiar with the concept of angels. Inej gives him the respect he feels he's owed, however, so the fact that she'd never known of them until meeting a few wouldn't count against her in his eyes.

He sighs. All of the archangels have egos that befit their place in the angelic hierarchy, but Lucifer has always been a bit more vocal—more entitled. He'd challenged God Himself on the matter of humanity. He can see that Lucifer might be all the more insistent on his title now, after he's been cast so far from the rest of the Heavenly Host that human perception has all but separated him from his nature as an angel.

(A small fraction of him will continue to allow for the possibility that she isn't speaking of his brother, and that the attitude is consistent across worlds.)

"That does sound like him."

He casts a slow glance around the room, taking in the space beyond the tree: the glass ceiling, the nearby cups, the bookshelves. It's not what would come to mind when Michael pictures a place of worship, but it is not unfitting. Even if it could use a few stained glass windows.

"In that case, I'll reserve my comments for its creator," he says. "I've heard you pray before, though I can't often make out the words of prayers that aren't directed to me."

In a word, he has been eavesdropping, albeit not intentionally and not with much success.
thedevilwhorose: (now what will become of me?)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
There's a stutter to his radiance, like someone's accidentally elbowed a light switch. Geralt's hand is a fiery brand to Lucifer's ice. There's a haunting expression twisted across his face like the withered vines.

Life is supposed to be what flashes before your eyes, but Lucifer sees death, and not the version that he summoned and chained to do his bidding. He sees two instances where Geralt manages to slice his neck open: the Hunting Grounds an aching, embarrassing memory that he can't shake, but at least he survived. And now, seconds before, where instead of his still-bleeding chest wound is him crumpled on the floor, body atop the wolf's.

Neither instance has the tattoo-black feature of his wings splayed and burnt across the floor and that shakes Lucifer more than anything because sure, he hasn't died by an archangel blade, but he's still an archangel, it's still part of him, he's not--he's weakened, yes, but he's not human--he shouldn't die like the sad, sickened sods of--
familysucks: (01)

[personal profile] familysucks 2022-10-31 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Our timelines lead to the same place, the same end. That matters."

The space between he and Castiel is a lot wider than the mere physical distance between them. Castiel is of Lucifer's rebellious ilk, the kind of angels that yearn to be more than what they were made to be. Michael never did. He finds himself outside of his Father's favour by circumstance more than by choice. There's probably no resolving the differences between them.

There might, given enough time, be a way to move past them however. Adam had not exactly forgiven Michael for leading him into Hell, but they had coexisted well nonetheless.

The (mock?) cat in his hand is not the only thing in the room that is listless. Castiel is not the same angel who'd had the nerve to trick him into a pair of manacles. He can guess as to why—death has been going around, in the rest of Abraxas as it has been in Solvunn. It's been difficult for Michael to forget his own, and he has only the one that haunts him.

"You seem out of sorts. Let me guess: you remember your death? The final one."
thedevilwhorose: (I will wait)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
[There is a desire there to make him wait four hours, to the minute.

He can be stubborn like that; he was willing to wait indefinitely by a door not long ago. This is nothing.

To potentially both their shock: he doesn't. He steps over--far, far too silently of a walk now that he's stifled his radio tuning soundtrack--and folds himself down cross-legged besides Jack. He picks up the controller in the way of someone that has never played a single damn video game in the whole of the universe.

Because he hasn't.

He blinks down at the controller.]
... What's a Luigi?
stations: (ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ᴍᴀɴ's ғʟᴀᴍᴇᴛʜʀᴏᴡᴇʀ)

[personal profile] stations 2022-10-31 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
( Wow. Okay. So this is a thing that's happening, apparently.

Is it the weirdest thing to ever happen in his life? No. But it's definitely up there. Top ten in the last six months, easy.

There's a solid second where Jack considers swatting the offer back down again, but... admittedly, playing against the computer loses its luster after like forty-five minutes, and at least if Lucifer's doing this he's not doing something worse.

So. Fuck it.
)

He's the one with the green hat. He's Mario's less popular younger brother. And you're holding that wrong, look, it's-

( Demonstration of proper form: check. )

I can't believe I'm teaching you about video games when there's a church, like, a mile from my house that's convinced you invented them. They made fliers and everything.
thearchangel: (chicks dig the scars right)

[personal profile] thearchangel 2022-10-31 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
"Same here."

Usually, stepping out of the main battery meant stepping into the rest of the Normandy. It absolutely didn't mean falling into a pile of icy nonsense. He's already shuddering in the drift of it. His hand closes around hers, gratefully, as he hauls himself upright again.

"Well, yeah," is his response. Why wouldn't he be trying to go down the mountain? "That's how you get off a mountain."

Right?
thedevilwhorose: » hallucination (through the taste)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
If I had a list of everything I've ever been blamed for it would fill an island's worth of libraries. [He does mimic the "proper form" and all that. This is likely a dumb idea but Jack has a point about it being a distraction from... well. Both of them being here.

Ah, and he rather recently gave humans a hard time for being Distraction Addicts.

Oh well.

Lucifer's always been a hypocrite.

And, anyway. This is Jack Townsend: arguably Lucifer's least favorite person in Thorne.

There are always exceptions to rules.

He only makes the barest twitch at Luigi's description. Some ingrained part of him to react to the words 'younger brother.' What? So he has issues, doesn't everyone?]
I bet I was blamed for people breathing wrong at one point in time.

[He is going to be. Absolutely horrible. At this game.]
ofthesword: (--032)

[personal profile] ofthesword 2022-10-31 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
[The thing a little time does to him. He looks between Geralt's face -- hard, impassive, sees all the lines Credo once'd had when he was looking at him with that sick mixture of disappointment and pity. Back to the light. It's there. And he thinks -- he thinks he hears her, but he doesn't hear her. It's more like an echo.

He curses.

Any less time, he'd get Geralt to let go of him. There's no way even a guy as strong as him could hold Nero down when even Dante couldn't.

His free hand wipes his face, rubbing his eyes.]
Again? How many times is this fuckin' place gonna do this to me? I just --

[He isn't pulling anymore, and though Geralt's grip is bruising, it's not what he's paying attention to.] I need to see her.
gynvael: (161)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-31 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
That stutter is all Geralt needs. He can feel it, a strength which flows through his veins, blooming. His eyes flood black, though he fails to notice.

Instinct fuels him. He doesn't stop to consider what Lucifer may be seeing, what it is that's almost seemed to have terrified the demon. What vision of death has gripped him. Lucifer falters, and Geralt simply takes the opening.

He lurches forward to sink his sharpened teeth into the nearest artery. Because if he cannot have a blade with which to cut a throat, he is not above tearing it out.
stations: (76)

[personal profile] stations 2022-10-31 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
I mean, probably. People in my town would definitely try to pray away 'the devil's asthma'.

( Said with a nonchalant shrug as he bloops through the characters and settles on Princess Peach.

Because she's the best, and he came here to win. He's not putting on kid gloves for this asshole.

He will, however, give a brief rundown of the controls, because he's not a total sociopath.
)

Steer with these. This one makes you go faster, this one's to brake. That's jump, and that one uses the item in your inventory. Don't fall off the map.

( And with those final sage words of advice, they're off. 3... 2... 1... go. )
thearchangel: (To wage this rage)

[personal profile] thearchangel 2022-10-31 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
This is way too damn close for comfort. He's a sniper. Everything is supposed to be a nice, comfortable distance away. That's how he operates. That's his job, his role. He's not an up-close fighter. That's for Tali or the mass of biotics in their ranks.

Add to that, the slow rate of fire and reload for this damned archaic weapon, the sheer numbers of the corpses... he's not going to be able to hold position and fire like he's used to. He'll have to back up.

"Not used to this front-ranks fighting!"

Even as he says it, he shifts the crossbow, to brain the nearest corpse with the butt of the weapon. It crumples, drops.

"You?"
gynvael: (078)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-31 06:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ When Nero doesn't pull any harder, Geralt loosens his grip. His expression softens. Yeah. He understands. He does. He's chased echoes of Ciri before so many fucking times. Her shadow in the Horizon. Her memory in those nightmares. Desperate, every time, that something might be wrong.

It is never easy to let go. ]


You can't. [ He pauses. ] We need shelter. If we're still here after the storm passes and the light lingers, I'll come with you. All right?

[ He's hoping they will not be here for the entirety of the night's blizzard. But if they are—then that's a promise. He will. If only because he knows how it feels, that inkling of what if. Sometimes it's best to confront it head on. ]
thedevilwhorose: (say a prayer for me)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
He wants to dissect this man to know if he has a soul.

He wants to dissect him to know how he ticks. He didn't taste demonic and he didn't taste like anything Lucifer's ever encountered and part of him wonders if that's why the Winchester is so close. Because he also needs to know, needs to push in to find out this man's secrets.

But that gives Dean far too much credit, and Lucifer's never been about that.

He's still seeing an overlay of his death as he shakes himself out of this waking nightmare and like the switch that turned down Lucifer's lightshow, Lucifer is completely done with games. None of the jests and the jeering left to him, just a cold-blooded killer, a warrior once for God and then for himself, and he's Done.

The teeth digging into his neck is enough of a shock to jar Lucifer out of it, though not completely. Images of his dying keep changing from every action of Geralt's, too distracting, but the flash of pain keeps him centered and in the moment.

He focuses all of his strength down to his hand with the knife and shifts between their two bodies, reaching up, and with excessive, inhuman force, shoves his arm blade-first through Geralt's chest.
thedevilwhorose: (with my fingers to the bone)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-10-31 06:33 am (UTC)(link)
[So then Spencer would be the type not to show him how to play.]

Your town sounds like a barrel of laughs.

[He instantly falls off the map.

So.

Already off to a good start.]


I'm great with my hands. [A grunt.] Excellent dexterity, surgical skills. [Says the devil that shoved his arm through Jack's chest--so Jack should definitely understand.

He's having better luck staying on the map but he's definitely Struggling, but his annoyance at least stays at the same level.]
This should be easier.