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

[earthborn]

"Yeah," She says, "Alchera."

He won't need more than that to get it, she hopes. He wasn't there, of course, didn't see it the way Liara, or Joker had. But it didn't take too much imagination to get what was implied, not when he'd seen her... Shit, he'd seen the whole damn episode, hadn't he? Had she ever just, lost it like that, right in front of him, before? In front of anyone, come to think of it...

Shepard finally lets go of him, just so she can scrub both hands down her face. Great. Humiliation was just what this needed. And to add insult to injury she's even sorry to let him go. Holding hands, what's next? But she isn't getting up, at least, not yet.

Her hands are shaking, and she can't quite seem to catch her breath. That had felt a little too real.

"It was weird. Intense," It feels like making an excuse; but if there's something wrong here more than her own stupid trauma, she'll take the idea for a distraction if nothing else, "Hit me like the Prothean Beacon, just— wham."

Actually, maybe it was a bit strange, come to think of it. Shepard knew her triggers, knew how to control her reactions, hell, she was proud of that control, had worked hard to achieve it. Something that could be mistaken for a seizure was completely outside the bounds of acceptability.

"...What the hell set it off?"

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd was technically trained in mage combat, but it was a long time ago and unlike the others, he simply walked away from a lot of different things he wasn't interested in from his training. He has very little practice. He did knock a man off a horse with Geralt, but he wouldn't have been much help with that monster. He would have tried, but he's rusty, for certain. Maybe he should go back to training, because he is very quickly thrown off when she abruptly attacks him.

Despite the fact that intellectually he knows she can't kill him for good in the Horizon, his breath still catches and he feels a sliver of fear. A natural response to someone far more dangerous than he is getting into his space. He looks more surprised than upset though, and he resists his instinct to use his telekinesis to blow her back. What's the point? It won't get them answers to fight in here.

"I haven't told you a single lie, I am a historian. I'm also a mage. I grew up with Yennefer, if you know her, we were in school together."

The fear has given way now that his instinct calms down and his eyebrows are furrowed, caught up in her.

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you afraid of monoliths? What are they to you?"

[wiedzminka]

Her knife slashes across his forearm when he braces for her slamming into him, but though he moves much faster than he looks like he should, the move isn't aggressive. Not even truly a block. Blood spills, fresh and hot-- and, to her, appearing black against the bone white of her blade and staining her blouse when his sudden movement forward rather than back catches her off guard.

Bony fingers wrap around the silver medallion. The noise the chain makes when it snaps feels like something in her very bones, a visceral yank that echoes through her insides, like he's just ripped out a part of her instead of just the pendant on her belt.

She can't remember why she put it there.

"That's mine!"

Ignoring his questions, Ciri throws herself at him again, the knife between them now. When his arm pulls back, taking the chain with it, she takes the opening. Steps forward, hilt braced low and close to her body, and thrusts the knife into his stomach with a scream.

[wiedzminka]

The sharp point of the knife punctures armor, skin and flesh. It sinks, and with it, so does she, into the darkness and terror and confusion as the world around her shudders and cracks. As the image begins to resolve, and the illusion evaporates, like fog clearing from a glass.

The scream echoes all around, slams into the high stone walls and the others standing apart, a deafening, all-encompassing shriek. It's not a noise a person should be able to make. It's an energy as much as a sound, a lighting strike more than thunder. The ground splits. The walls shudder. Debris rains from somewhere far above.

Suddenly, Ciri releases the knife; it disappears the moment her fingers leave its hilt, leaving her hands covered in Geralt's blood.

[godshattering]

The sight of the arm breaking off is enough to make Claude pause where he is despite being ready to take off in the direction he's pointed out, though he recovers from being startled when Garrus confirms their plan. That's enough to get him moving with the mental note to avoid touching the corpses, something he'd already planned on, but it never hurts to have further confirmation of that.

It's a short jog to where the tables are and given that both of them are faster than the advancing dead, he feels safe enough to set his bow down safely out of the way to grab one end of the table with a nod to Garrus to take the other if he can to create their makeshift barricade. He'll probably have to apologize to this particular merchant next time he shows up for work, but maybe the man will understand.

"I figured that this way we get the benefit of both a little cover and some added range," he explains even if the plan's probably clear enough. "Distance tends to work a little better for bows though that goes without saying, really, but now we can also appraise what's approaching us."

And speaking of that - once they're settled, Claude grabs his bow and readies it again though now he blinks in slight surprise when it seems like there's much fewer corpses standing. "Did... we take more down already than I realized? I have a running count, but." Well. No matter; that can be figured out later. Better get back to firing arrows.

[catholica]

( the momentary reprieve is just that — momentary. he knows that the creatures they've just put down or just a small sampling of what's coming. he rubs at face and then straightens, trying to crack his back.

steve's right, though. they've managed to put down a lot of these things but that doesn't mean they're done permanently. they're coming back an they're bringing friends.

so, yeah, he's right. as much as matt would rather not set things that might have been human one time on fire, it's gonna be the only way. )

Yeah. ( shit. ) You have matches? Kindling?

[gynvael]

[ He pulls his focus into setting up. It's what he knows, burned into his very being; he goes about it methodically, gathering supplies, making use of the snow, eventually patching up a shelter that'll weather a storm for the night. ]

Mm-hm. We call them Signs. Small spells.

[ Practical spells. Point in case: where it's too damn wet for fire, Igni lets him do something others cannot: he heats a pile of rocks in the center until warm steam fills the air around them. It isn't a crackling flame, but it keeps the chill out. The stones will hold the heat for awhile.

Good enough. He leans his head back against the icy wall. Breathes out. The ache of the fight is beginning to settle into his bones. ]

You? No part-demon spells?

[assembles]

[ Steve puffs out a breath and shakes his head. ] I don't. [ He doesn't make a point of carrying around those sorts of things with him, though now he wonders if he should reconsider that. If Wanda or Strange were here, they'd probably be able to do something about this, but that's besides the point.

He takes stock of the corpses writhing around on the ground, and while they might be stubborn enough to keep moving even after the damage he and Murdock have done, it's not like they're able to do much other than crawl or stumble. ]

I don't think they'll be going anywhere any time soon. One of us can keep an eye on things here while the other finds some kindling.

[ Libertas may be in complete disarray right now, but not all of it has been destroyed. He's confident they can find something. ]

[gynvael]

[ His gaze slides towards Thancred. Mm. Yes, there's that to contend with, isn't there? ]

I'll return the same to you, if you find yourself envisioning your gruesome death. [ Or at the raw end of his temper. Considering it's Thancred, Geralt doesn't anticipate that to be a problem, but who the fuck knows these days. Between secrets spilling, deaths relived, he has to wonder how many have already come to blows.

He turns another corner, careful to watch his step in case any traps might spring. So far, nothing. Which only serves to leave him more uneasy. ]

What do you make of these old gods?

[gynvael]

[ Himeka seems in brighter spirits at the prospect of lighting up a few vines. Geralt can't begrudge her the distraction. It's not much of one for him, mostly serves to remind him of what he's lost (how much he lost), but he can admit her uplifted disposition—however slight—is not unwelcome.

As always, he finds Himeka easy to be around. Perhaps something of a distraction for his own moods.

His palm does not produce flame as hers, but it does heat up, scorching away the plant-like tendril where it wraps around a sconce. ]

Place has seen worse. [ He says it casually enough. ] So. I take you also received a visitor in your dreams?

[ He's yet to speak to anyone who has not, but he also hasn't discussed in detail the contents of it. The silent falling snow. The cavern with its howling wolves. A rising monolith in the center. Recalling it makes it seem faded now, but at the time it'd been vivid, real. ]

[carmesi]

His question is warranted, and the fact that he asks that before anything else reassures Wanda that he is not badly injured and hasn't been ensnared by anything above them, yet.

"I'm not sure," she starts, knowing this is hardly comforting, "but I think the Singularity is acting up and affecting the Horizon again."

Truth of the matter, though, is that Wanda is well aware just how bad it looks that there are things chasing others within her own domain. Wilhelm would have recognized the red mist, and so she has to be honest with him.

"I let my magic roam free in changing my domain, so I am not in charge of making any actual changes to it or controlling what happens, unless I want to. Remnants of my magic — is out of control now. I'm trying to fix it."

The last sentence, she emphasizes earnestly; Wanda would loathe for Wilhelm to not believe her.

"Have you tried leaving the Horizon as normal?

[funbreaker]

[ It does feel like a trap should have triggered by now, based on what Geralt told him of his past trips here. Thancred also remains on-edge, eyes scanning this way and that for any sign of something amiss. It's bound to hit when they least expect it. ]

Well, I've been through that already in a sense, so I imagine it won't be so bad. [ His "death" by Meteion hadn't been gruesome so much as swift and thorough, but he isn't particularly scared of his own mortality, save for how his loss might affect others.

His back straightens at Geralt's question, as this is something he does feel he can talk about with some authority. Not to the extent that Himeka or Urianger might be able to, but he's had conversations with one of them about this already. ]

I don't know if Himeka's explained primals to you, but they're false gods that can be summoned in our world through the use of fervent prayer and a vast amount of aether. When they're summoned, they drain the surrounding land of its aether and also enthrall any living being in their proximity. This feels almost like a milder version of that, with the blight upon the land and the effects we've all been suffering.

[ He doesn't feel some undying loyalty to Adelwyrd, and still is very much himself despite the swirling thoughts that have plagued him. Yet there's no denying that the gods waking has done damage in a variety of ways. ]

[carmesi]

[it's good that he doesn't climb so quickly, because wanda is already feeling the burn on her legs, finds herself catching her breath with every landing they reach. she's not built like steve, after all. still, she swallows and continues determined with every new flight of stairs, hand on the railing for support.]

—want to bet it's the same in Thorne?

[something tells her that whatever this is that's happening is spreading throughout the entirety of the land, regardless of borders.]

Makes sense that the Singularity is — messing with the Horizon, but out in the real world... I'm not so sure.

[wanda isn't so sure. she takes the last couple of steps up this particular flight of stairs and stops, looking up at him, and then over at what waits for them beyond on the stairs. pink globs drop down, oozing like slime from atop. so—this pink ooze is not just below them, but also above? it seems to be trying to reach them.

she frowns. well, whatever, she was tired of climbing stairs anyway.

though her magic isn't functioning quite so well, it still pulses as an extension of herself. she draws on it and forward with a hand, stepping through a wall as it opens up for her and leading the way into an apartment. suppose they'll have to go through the maze of apartments to climb their way up.

as soon as steve gets through, wanda rebuilds the structure of the wall again, giving them a moment to catch their breath. —for wanda, anyway, who finds a chair to sit down, breathing ragged.

just give her a minute.]

—is... everyone keeping safe? I know last year the dead in the Free Cities rose to attack people.

[carmesi]

[wanda needn't be a mind reader to take note of this man's generous hesitation in answering her question. it brings her pause, too, wondering if perhaps he was one of many whom her chaos magic tackled while in the horizon, terrorizing without meaning to, without having coherent thought of it other than a cocoon of grief and shame (and volatile anger)—

nocwich he says, instead, and it brings her some relief. and, despite herself, the dog brings her a sort of anchor, a comfort in her nervousness and anxieties.

she extricates herself from those feelings a bit.]

I — have been unwell. [still is, but less marked by that madness that had touched her mind.] I recently lost my children. [this is very summarized. she helps herself to stand now, hands clasped together.] If I hurt you, or did something— I'm... sorry.

[there is hesitation from her behalf, too, as she says the following (as she seems to plead for an unspoken case),]

I won't hurt you.

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie’s gaze catches the moth and follows it to the floor, watching as it shrivels up at their feet. Morbid, he thinks, but pays it no further mind as he reaches for his cup again. It’s this movement, small and innocuous, that causes him to suddenly gasp in pain. ]

Shit.

[ It’s a familiar pain, one he’s only felt once and one he had hoped to never feel again. Like hundreds and hundreds of tiny daggers ripping into his flesh, tearing him apart. It surges through his body, worsening by the second. ]

Can you--just excuse me for a moment...?

[ He tries to be polite, tries to shove his cup back into Geralt’s hand before he stumbles backwards, doubled over and clutching his side. When he pulls his hand away, it’s wet with blood--at least, that’s what he sees, and he panics.

When he arrived in Abraxas, he didn’t have any wounds or scars. There was nothing concrete to prove that what happened to him actually happened. All he had was the memory and Steve’s word, and that had sent him spiraling into existential crisis, questioning whether he was truly alive or not. That worry never really went away, but pushing the memory into the very back of his mind and letting it collect dust (or fester) for awhile has helped quite a bit. An “ignore it and maybe it will go away” type of approach.

Well, he can’t ignore it now, not when he feels like he’s bleeding out on Geralt’s floor and the droning of hundreds of beating bats’ wings are suddenly filling his ears. The pain is blinding and his eyes can’t focus in the darkness of the stronghold to pinpoint where the sound is coming from. If he could think clearly, he might tap into his earlier logic: this is the Horizon, none of this is really real. But it feels real, and that’s what feeds his thoughts more than logic ever could.]

Jesus Christ...

[ He begins stumbling backwards toward the door, eyes blindly scanning the room. The blizzard outside isn’t even a thought in his mind right now, and he hardly even sees Geralt now. He's dying either way, right? Dying again? ]

[cryptsleeper]

[Yes, something like that would make Alucard pause mightily. But for now, he'll take a vouch. Thancred has not come off as unserious, and the fact he's shared even this much is remarkable in and of itself.]

One out of three is...not ideal. But a place to start, I suppose.

[There's a sincere nod of agreement with dead over alive, but the rest of the point stands as well. Wearily, Alucard tips his head back.]

We've overburdened with abundance in terms of decisions, and all of them could go poorly. Assuming we can even find any useful information.

[hextechhead]

Jayce can tell that Viktor is not in a helpful state of mind, he seems listless, which is concerning but also a little frustrating. At another point, he would have been careful not to do anything to harm Viktor's pride, but he is not in a situation where he cares much about that. Just like when they were stuck in the nightmare before, there are more important times when carrying him around has to be accepted. Or running out of danger, like then.

"Don't argue with me," he warns before he pulls those stupid tendrils off and then sweeps Viktor right off his feet. Maybe if he gets annoyed he'll actually do something about it. Jayce gathers him into his large arms and carries him bridal style away. Not that he knows where they should actually go or what to do next, but he's not going to sit there. He's not going to let either of them waste away. They've been avoiding touching lately but he doesn't seem to trigger a vision this time, at least.

"It's because the Singularity is fucking things up again." Jayce's anger flares to life and he's furious at this unexplained magical thing that decides to do this every once and awhile to them. They didn't ask to be here or to do any of this. Normally he's glad, for Viktor to stay alive and for magic, but right then he's not grateful for just about anything. "Who knows where we even are, it's probably still the Horizon, a fantasy of some kind."

Jayce picks a direction and walks them that way.

[hextechhead]

I'm a big fan of your blood being inside of you too. I just mean that if I can ever help you with ... well, anything, I'm here.

[ Jayce owes him everything for what he's doing with Viktor. It was impossible to save him before because it was always just Jayce, he never had any help, neither of them did. It's no longer only his thing to panic about. Support in any way is really helpful. And Alucard also is his friend. Jayce would do anything for his friends. ]

Resonances like ... being light-headed and tired? Or something more supernatural?

[londonbound]

[ There's silence for a minute, as he ascertains that Jack is right. The box playing back his memories doesn't budge, doesn't break, doesn't even shift. He draws back to nurse his bloody knuckles.

This is the Horizon, but he can't will away the injury for some reason. Just like he can't will the scenes to stop. (Others are playing now, various frivolous memories around the palace, around town, even a couple uncomfortably intimate ones where he's wearing very little.)

Eventually, Rhy has to look away, glowering as he paces the room. ]

There's no door.

[ He observes flatly, staring at Jack. ]

And I can't make anything.

[gynvael]

In a rare instance, Geralt is genuinely reeling. He had, in a sense, been prepared for Voleth Meir. He is not prepared for whatever the fuck is happening now—no weapon, no gear, just him and Ciri frightened atop him. But he can tell she's thrown when he doesn't attack, doesn't try to grab her, and he wonders if that's what it'll take.

When her knife plunges downward, he makes no move to stop her. Is it a gamble? Perhaps, but if not the Horizon then where? The blade pierces between his ribs, blood flowing hot, soaking his shirt. He can see it—a shift in her expression. Then the walls crack, the earth splintering.

He grabs her despite the shaking ground, ignores the ringing in his ears. Her hands are slick, red, but he takes them in his anyway. There's an insistence to his grip now, firm but gentle. Part of him fears if he lets her go, she may never return.

"Cirilla. You know who you are. You know who I am, too."

[londonbound]

[ There is a beat of silence. It's surprise, though she wouldn't be able to know that; he takes a sharp breath, blinks against the salt-soaked wind and squints into the distance. If he heard that right (if he's really hearing anything at all and not simply talking to himself because he's lost his mind), there is the smallest flicker of relief at the recognition.

Not just a voice in the distance. A person. Someone he knows. A friend.

(Whether or not Julie considers him such, right now, it's exactly what he thinks of her.)

A laugh escapes, incredulous and a bit hysterical, but also genuine. Loud enough to carry. ]

Julie.

Saints, Julie!!

It's Rhy. I'm here. I can't see you, but I can hear you.

You're not alone.

[tobeclosetohim]

There's a stranglehold on the utter uselessness of just standing there, passive voyeurs, to Ciri spinning out as Geralt tries to reach her. The promise of the fight started in defense of her, blossoming into a blade that slams into Geralt's chest, and despite her noninvolvement with a lot of this—as Geralt so nicely painted on one of the walls of her head earlier—this is wrong.

This is so wrong. Ciri is wrong. This is not the girl who was so doting and pleased dragging him out to dance with her under fairy twinkle lights in NocWich; not the laconic and level, but slowly opening woman who teaches Jo sword work between her jobs, willing to let her succeed on her merit or slam into walls if that's what she's choosing instead. This is just. Wrong. Not Ciri.

But Geralt doesn't fight her; he only continues to try to get through to her. Even as she stabbed him and started screaming, the whole place suddenly ringing with it. The walls, the floor, her goddamn teeth.

[righteously]

Maybe he'd have made to step in once he saw that knife enter the equation — the equation being Geralt's body — but any such inclination is almost immediately decimated by that sound. That force, the energy of it, it reminds him of-

Well hell, it reminds him of years ago in a shitty little gas station, all the windows shattering around him, the ground quaking, his ears splitting, the pressure in his head mounting. It reminds him of the true voice of an angel, not meant for human ears.

He curls himself around Jo, clamping a palm down on either of her ears, tucking her in against him even as he nearly hits his knees himself, teeth gritted, his own snarl muted and swallowed by the sound.

God damn, that girl's got some pipes.

[righteously]

She's not wrong — he's probably getting more out of this drink than she is, if only because it's a crutch for him. Something to do with his hands, a kind of social safety net. A grounding, familiar touchstone to fall back on while he wraps his head around the fact that something's happening here.

"Hope you're okay with cheap whiskey, then, because the mini-bar's running a little light on Piña Colada and Snickers."

He closes the door behind her, and gently locks it. Goes about the slow, methodical process of uncorking a bottle of whiskey and pouring a finger into two glasses. He holds one out to her, and then settles in — not in a chair or on the bed, but rather perching gently on the lip of the small wooden table, some half-measure between standing and sitting, his body language open — but a little reserved. He's willing, but it's probably clear he doesn't intend to take the reins here.

It's been a while. Saying he isn't confident isn't really accurate, he's plenty confident in himself, in his technique, in this whole process. The hook-up game. He's got it on lock.

He's just not confident that he deserves it, he's not confident she should want this. An ounce or two of hesitation lingers. Given enough time, without her energy there to balance it out, he'd probably wind up talking himself out of it like he always does. He needs a hand getting out of his own head.

nsfw

[londonbound]

[ It's as simple as that.

Kyle might be fending off straight thoughts and anxieties, but Rhy is already beyond that. He is fueled only by want -- want to block everything else out, want for pleasure, want to lose himself because escapism is the only remedy he knows and it's never felt so tempting, or so easy.

When Kyle draws him close, Rhy finishes removing any and all distance between them. He kisses back, open-mouthed and eager, pressing his tongue into the other man's mouth with a loud and shameless moan as he climbs right up into his naked lap beneath the water. ]