EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

[abraxasmods]

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

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

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

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

NOTE: This event will deal with themes of death (people and animal) and horror imagery.

Emergence

It begins sometime in mid-October, around the 18th. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterwards when you're visited by an unusually vivid dream.

The dream starts the same for everyone: you are going somewhere, anywhere, walking to your bedroom or enjoying a stroll on the beach. You might be driving down a familiar neighborhood. Wherever you're headed, you eventually come upon a stone tablet engraved with your Arcana. Laid on the tablet are three objects:

◎ A dead moth trapped inside a wilted rose, symbolizing Koth of Festering Lands
◎ A teacup inside which sits a single nightshade berry, symbolizing Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues
◎ An ornate cracked hand mirror that contains no reflection, symbolizing Sannleikr of Many Faces

Make a choice. Something inside your soul will be drawn towards one of the objects. Maybe you spend hours in the dream deliberating, but sooner or later, you'll pick one of the items up. The moment you do, the other objects vanish and the chosen Herald appears before you. Where one might expect a god to seek subservience, the strange figure instead extends a friendly hand towards you - as though it's greeting you as an equal.

Whispered around you, you hear its name. Then it fades and with it the dream. You awaken.

Affliction

You go about your day as usual. That's when you realize something isn't right. Creatures and people around you behave strangely. You begin to sense that you are the cause.

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

As the afflictions seep into your mind, you start to find shadows of it following you: a dead moth here, a nightshade bloom there, a cracked mirror elsewhere. You may even wonder if it's following you in the first place. What if instead, you are the one leaving these signs behind?

Corruption

The first time you inflict your ability on someone else, you don't mean to. It might be a stranger, some unsuspecting soul, or it might be another Summoned. Regardless, the afflictions that ail you seem to spread through you into another. Someone falls down as if in the throes of an invisible death or secrets spill. You brush by someone and they're suddenly upset and confused.

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

You are not possessed. You can't control this power that spreads through you, but how you respond or behave is up to you. You could be attracted to the allure of power, enjoy the boons you are granted, or realize you can gain relief from your afflictions if you choose a victim. Not everyone will fall headfirst into the pull. Some are not easily swayed by power, some struggle to overcome their dark impulses, and others would rather endure their suffering than inflict it on someone else. But others still might succumb to temptation and turn on those around them with purpose: once, twice, multiple times. The choice you make is yours alone.

Blight

With the call of the Herald at your fingertips, the world around you twists. No one knows whether this stems from you and your newly imbued afflictions, or if the Heralds are exerting power on their own. It's for sure easier to think of what occurs as the influence of something monstrous beyond your control. No matter the cause, the earth is changed all the same.

Omens

The omens arrive shortly after the initial Summoned receive their dreams, but they don't come to every faction at once. SOLVUNN is first, being home to the Old Gods' shrines, before THORNE and the FREE CITIES follow only days afterwards. Depending on where you are, the omens will affect things a bit differently.

Solvunn

In Solvunn, the ground stirs. A desiccated hand breaks through the grass, a cloven hoof. Human or animal, they crawl forth, animated against their will. Some might attack, but most do not. At the same time, crops around the settlements begin to fail. Some chickens lay rotten eggs while cows produce spoiled milk. Any livestock that perishes overnight will surface in the mornings with empty eye sockets - pecked out by crows or gnawed on by rats. From a distance, the ocean can be seen bubbling as leviathans beneath thrash.

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

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

Free Cities

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

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

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

Thorne

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

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

Summoned can assist by contributing to the wards around Castle Thorne and the city, using spells to put down the dead without mangling the corpse, and taking inventory of food stores. Further, in Nott the situation is more dire for anyone who is traveling there to continue assisting with repairs following the attack. Nott will welcome help with any problems caused by the omens. It'll be clear the kingdom has neglected the city somewhat. Thorne will claim the Castle takes priority, of course, due to King and Queen residing there along with the entire royal court.

Apprehensions

Across the factions, locals are beginning to catch on that something isn't right with you, the Summoned. No one will say it outright, but there's an air of caution and wariness around you where you go. Merchants might be quick to hand you your wares so you'll leave or locals give you a bit of space when they walk by. Chatty innkeepers are more reluctant to hold lengthy conversations.

Much of the time, it may not be conscious. The natives might simply sense something off that instinctually makes them want to put some distance between them and you. The only exception? If you've chosen Sannleikr of Many Faces, you'll continue to exude your charm towards people you encounter. At least for as long as you continue to inflict that ability you've been gifted.

Displacement

Everyone responds differently while in the Horizon. You might exert better willpower over your afflictions or you might feel its effects more strongly. It all depends on the individual and their mindset. Regardless, the Heralds are only one part of the equation. There's a much bigger disturbance going on.

It could happen as soon as you enter or it might be as you're stepping over the threshold into another's domain. Whatever the case, you are suddenly not where you're supposed to be. Instead, you're in one of two places depending: transported into a domain you never meant to go into or in a foreign setting altogether.

Visitation

Whether you're the one transported or someone teleports unexpectedly into your space, the Horizon becomes unpredictable for the next little while. Rooms normally locked to strangers, areas you yourself may not even realize exists - you and your fellow Summoned continue to pop in and out despite your intentions.

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

Not to worry. You won't be trapped or anything in these cases...unless the domain you land in happens to seal from the inside. You might stumble on secrets you weren't meant to find, though, locked away in someone else's mind.

Ensnared

The less fortunate will be pulled into a space that they've never encountered before. The bizarreness of it resembles the glitchy visions that flashed through a few months ago, but rather than an image flickering by, you are now inside the space itself.

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

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

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

Scenes to Explore

JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

---

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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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.

---

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

[sorser]

Great.

[Since keeping quiet is easily a moot point now, it slips out sharply. The legion of corpses before them, yawning hugely, strikes a little too close to home — undead things, working in tandem to constrict and confine. But there’s no time to focus on that, not when after snapping his gaze backwards, he spies the tentacled creature that had been trailing them. Its many, many eyes, vacillating between twitching in all directions, and focusing upon them both, all at once.

But you know? He’s seen weirder. And so has Wanda. He nods sharply at her, trusting that her magic will deal with the tentacle creature unspoken, and turns his focus towards the pile of moving corpses.

He casts swiftly with practiced hands. A blade of magic spins and enlarges, sparking with amber at its edges, like a saw blade cutting through invisible metal. This is a trick that’s worked before—last time it split a bus open—and he sure doesn’t mind using it again.

Stephen launches it forward. The corpses shambling their way are sliced clean through the middle, and they crumple, their top halves clawing at the maze ground. This buzzing spell continues forward, shearing through a partial part of the undead legion, leaving it missing a good chunk of its conglomeration.]

We can slip through—!

[The space he’s carved open for him, is what he means to say, except suddenly an eyed-tentacle is wrapping around his waist and yanking him backwards, trying to knock him right into Wanda as he goes wheeling away.]

[aquilus]

[Farewell, favored coat.]

It's very well adjusted to tracking multiple men who wish to take my life. I haven't applied it often to other moving targets.

[Which is to say, he really doesn't know but they can find out together.]

[aquilus]

Maybe.

[No one is that good. Or so he'd have thought up to now. He's already come to terms with the fact that he must re-examine his expectations in this land, but it seems that will extend farther than he understood.]

You're a scholar?

[Altaïr has the sense that this isn't quite what he meant, but he isn't sure how that profession relates to prompting forthrightness.]

[cryptsleeper]

Then this will be an experiment in more ways than one. Excuse me.

[Alucard is careful enough to take a few steps away before he transforms into a cloud of bats. A natural ability, which is probably the only reason it functions in the Horizon right now. It is difficult to tell the number - two dozen at least - and they all squeak and flap independently of each other.

The goal is clear, once the bats start to hover. If they all go through at once, they'll overwhelm the vines. Or Alucard will take a comical amount of damage. Hard to say which. And so the bats speed off in a disorganized group, ducking and weaving as the vines lash wildly.]

[thedevilwhorose]

"Maybe it knew you were poking interest and wanted to say hi in the only way it knew how," he answers.

It's anyone's guess how serious he actually is about it.

He adds, slightly playful, "Or it's annoyed at your interest and is giving you a warning." This is, unfortunately, what friendship with Lucifer gets you. "I don't know, I don't try to whisper sweet nothings to giant stone structures." A pause, considering, "anymore."

[aquilus]

[That's something he doesn't see every day. Or any day.

Yet Altaïr can glean Alucard's intention immediately. He can assist, or at least try — as the vines lash out, he does as well, his sword moving nearly as fast. Whatever senses this living trap possesses are focused on the bats, which gives him the opportunity to slice pieces of vine from their progenitor without being ripped to shreds himself.

It's not a perfect solution — he may not be the vines' primary target, but he takes more than one lash. That's fine. It's not the first time he's spilled blood and it won't be the last, but he intends to survive longer than this thing will.]

[cryptsleeper]

[The vines hit more than a few bats. It isn't ideal, but bats can move fast and the corridor of vines is not as long as Alucard feared when he first glanced down it. Pointed little ears can hear Altaïr in his wake, but there's no tracking him. The vines are the focus.

And soon enough, the vines clear out, the corridor cleared. Alucard breathes out as he reforms himself, blood bright red against patches of pale skin where clothing has been torn. (Best not to think about the mechanics of how the bats work.)

He turns, assuming the other man has made it through.]

[gynvael]

Is it? She'd have me believe it was her frying pan.

[ That's a joke. He's aware of her exploits. Not from Himeka herself, but her elf friend. Who is, fortunately, no longer a point of contention between them. It'd not been a heavy problem, but Geralt prefers when there are fewer bumps in the road.

His gaze snaps to Thancred. Made an attempt...? The question is on the tip of his tongue when he's diverted by the man's remark. He stops before the lit enclosure. The light is warm, inviting. A trap, as Thancred states.

Mm. He touches the wall. Feels around it for anything worth noting. ]

I've learned, [ he says, not at all helpfully, ] that sooner or later, this place will force you into a trap. No matter how careful.

[ As in: they may just have to get it over with. Step into the room. See what awaits them. Hopefully nothing that'll fuck with them too terribly. ]

[philancer]

[ Sylvain had already had an argument ready, but if he's honest, there's thoughts lurking in the back of his mind he's not ready to voice just yet. Not to Claude, not to anyone from home. They're not even fully formed yet, but they're persistent at the very least.

He's not ready to speak them, though. That makes them too real and he's not there yet.

So he lets Claude divert him instead, arching an eyebrow at that leading statement. ]

What other ways?

[philancer]

Yeah, but if it's fun, it makes the challenge better, don't you think?

[ He knows what he's here for, at least.

He's facing off against a pair of shambling corpses although one looks more skeleton than anything else at this point. He's relieved he has his spear with him, it's easier keeping them at a distance as he severs the spine of one and turns to fend off the second as the first collapses to the ground. ]

Mmm. You sound like a friend of mine.

[philancer]

[ Sylvain just spreads his hands in a shrug, looking not nearly concerned enough about this. ]

They fed it some giant sand worms, apparently, and it went back to sleep? Or at least left them alone.

[ Seemed a worthwhile sacrifice and all that.

Not that there were any sand worms around up here in case whatever was above them was hungry. Maybe there was a yeti somewhere nearby... ]

[philancer]

[ Nothing good ever comes from messing with necromancy.

But he nods at the suggestion as he glances around. ]

Yeah, I was planning on patrolling through a couple of them tonight to see if there was anything moving. But if you think it's all quiet here now for the night, I'll head on to the next one. You'll be alright here?

[ He seemed perfectly capable, but it felt rude not to ask. ]

[aquilus]

[Altaïr genuinely isn't certain whether there's any beating this thing — it may have to be enough to beat it back, to escape its clutches more or less in one piece.

In that, he's successful; he tumbles gracefully to the other side of the vine trap. Whether the thing is dead now or merely no longer interested now that they're past it, he doesn't much care. A few of his injuries are evident, spots of blood here and there, but it's nothing serious.

He gives Alucard an appraising and somewhat admiring look.]

I don't suppose that's something you can teach to others.

[philancer]

[ This wasn't real.

He keeps reminding himself of that. That he's not really in the Monastery, that everything's not actually on fire, that there's not an army just beyond the gates ready to lay waste to the only place he'd ever considered an actual home.

No, this is ancient history now, lost five years in the past and done and over with. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, watching it fall again. Especially when he's now so far from that home he's not sure he'll ever see it again.

But the squeeze on his shoulder draws him back to the present and he coughs to clear his lungs again and nods, glancing over at Wilhelm with an apologetic expression. ]

Right. Yeah. Sorry. This way, we're almost there.

[ He doesn't know how or why the stable hasn't caught fire yet, but he's immensely grateful. He can see the horses already out in the pasture, free from the building just in case, but he nudges his companion towards the nearest door as they approach, his movements hurried now. ] Quick, through here. The stalls exit out into the pasture, we'll be safe out there from the fire.

[aquilus]

[He's not going to admit it but he probably doesn't have to.

In any case, these particular corpses aren't much of a challenge at all. They're a little pathetic when he cuts them off at the knee, making it all the harder for them to shamble along and menace anyone.]

Oh? What is your friend like?

[earthborn]

Everything's new once. But this is a little more than the normal weirdness, she can admit that. The balm of familiar touch is the counterpoint to that, and when Garrus ducks down to meet her she turns her face into his with a sigh. Alright. Alright, yeah. She could do this.

But when she opens her eyes, she sees instead a cragged, Krogan sneer, and the hiss of gas. Shepard sees her own arm come up, gun in hand; you talk too much. The realities blend; hallucination and perception running together like wax, and for a moment she sees them overlayed. The gun barks, aim true, the bursting gas-flame, and Garrus' alien, familiar, beloved face at the other end of the crosshairs. Shepard has burned Turians to death before— incendiary ammunition is not meant to be kind.

Shepard jerks back, desperate for it not to happen, breaking his grip and her own balance so that she stumbles backward and fetches painfully against the wall behind. She barely registers the impact, too busy staring, trying to unmake the image of it, of Garrus standing where he's least wanted, where no one should be who isn't shortly about to be destroyed.

[wiedzminka]

"I'll call it whatever I damn please, you pedantic, self-important prick."

She snaps back with just as much venom as before, but she can feel her heart racing faster, realizations catching up. How much he really knows. What it could mean.

That Geralt didn't know. She's still pissed Geralt hadn't seen fit to mention this mage from their world, but if Geralt truly had no idea, that also worries her.

And still Istredd even bothers to mention that he has questions for her. Like she cares in the slightest about what he wants to know, when she's made it plenty clear how unhappy she is that he knows anything at all. She's quite sure she's also made it clear she'd rather put a sword through his throat than subject herself to his interrogation (for the sake of knowledge, no less). The fact he brings it up at all only drives the frustration and fury higher until she wants to fucking scream.

Somehow, she manages to keep her voice mostly even, though it is a dubious calm at best, emotion cutting her syllables short and imparting a faint quiver that's echoed in her tightly balled-up fists.

"Let me make this very clear for you, mage. Whatever you think you know, whatever you want to know, I have absolutely no intention of entertaining your whims and fancies so that you can exclaim over how 'special' I am and prod at me with your questions and theories. I do not care about your history books. I do not care about your precious quest for knowledge."

She is all sharp lines and angles, shoulders squared, jaw tight, standing tall. Her eyes remain fixed on Istredd's in that unflinching, icy stare. This is not a threat; for her, it is a simple statement of fact.

"If you make yourself a problem for me or mine, you will regret it."

And with that, she vanishes, removing herself back to to the world outside.

[wiedzminka]

She allows him to explain his reasoning without interrupting, and responds when he's done with a curt but otherwise uncomplaining: "Fine."

If he seems wary of her, that's perfectly fine with Ciri. Better, in fact. Good. She doesn't trust him, and he doesn't have to trust her, but if they're going to be stuck here together and neither of them want to test the theory of what happens if you die in a part of the Horizon that shouldn't exist, they can work together without needing real trust. A common goal will do.

"We keep going up. That seems to be the best bet. Eventually, it will release us."

She makes good on this suggestion right away, moving to start stacking some furniture to better reach a crack in the ceiling that looks just wide enough to crawl through.

"I was trapped in another location that wasn't anyone's Domain recently, and despite not responding to any attempts at getting out intentionally, it eventually simply ceased to exist. Pushed me back into my own domain, and then I was able to return to the physical realm."

[enduringkestrel]

Every time Cassandra thinks that she might be safe, the world is pulled out from under her. It’s a foolish hope. But even so, it’s still better than being in Whitestone. The tentative beginnings of friendship. People who know of what happened. Things that even her brother doesn’t know. He’d left. He’d escaped the hell that had become their home.

They’re not alone. And it makes a difference. It makes all the difference.

She shakes her head, a quiet, small movement. “Haunted as well.” A pause, a hitch in her breath. “The woman from the memory you saw.” Inej knows. Had seen one of the earliest of so many wounds that had been inflicted on her soul.

Will the Briarwoods ever let her be? “Never, dearest,” Delilah murmurs in her ear, as though she heard her very thoughts. “You’re ours.”

[cryptsleeper]

I'm afraid that, like my wolf form, is a born trait.

[Alucard doesn't sound apologetic, but he also has no real pride in being able to undergo such a transformation either. For him, it is just a simple fact. He can change into a whole bunch of bats. What has surprised him here is that the plan worked.

He moves to take a good look at where the blood is, quietly appraising the issue at hand. Nothing is too awful nor likely to impact the road ahead. Good.]

Would you like to keep going, or take a moment to consider next steps?

[righteously]

Pretty much just tasted like burning.

He huffs out a soft laugh, eyes dropping to his drink in a way that might seem fond, or some cousin of it at least. You spend as much time around alcoholics as he does, hearing something like that's just kind of cute. Sue him, it's a novelty.

When he looks back up at her again it's through his lashes, his brow gently knit, gaze searching. After a breath or two of pause, he reaches a hand out to gently skim his fingertips down her arm. At some point around elbow it goes from a brush to a hold, fingers curling gently around her bicep. Call it a nice, telegraphed green flag.

"Well, I gotta hand it to you," he says wryly, coaxing her in a little closer with a hint of pressure, the slightest tug. "You got better taste in guys than you do in whiskey."

It's obviously a joke — practically circles back around into self-deprecating again. He knows he's bottom-shelf liquor at best, but one thing both Dean Winchester and Fireball have in common? They both do a great job fucking somebody six ways from Sunday.

Hopefully with a little less regret come Monday morning.

[righteously]

Yeah, I get that a lot.

( Is the murmured, distracted response. It promptly gets washed away by the truckload of fuck that apparently decided to go down all of a sudden.

She says fuck, and he harmonizes in tandem with: )

Oh, crap. ( Followed by an urgent: ) Move, move, move, go-

( Complete with bodily nudging her forward ahead of him — he'll be right on her heels, bringing up the rear. Because of course he does, have you met him? )

[carmesi]

[wanda shakes her head, because it's not quite that. she's seen her own death, a flutter of dust and emaciated hands as her life essence is stolen from her, but nothing that isn't illusion. she's seen the macabre, deathly forms of her friends and those around her in solvunn, of claude just now until she's managed to throw a glamour spell over him.]

It's an illusory veil. [this, at least, she can try to explain.] I see you, but instead of you as you are — your skin is rotting, your eyes are glazed over, and perhaps there will even be a fatal injury or two. [she shrugs, grimacing.] For flavor, I guess.

[but as shocking as it is every time, she knows it isn't real. she won't allow it to be real.]

The first time it happened was a real shock. There's already dead walking among us, and with the carcasses of the animals that we awaken to... [she frowns, and grows silent. isn't this what she can do, with her magic? put images in people's heads—images that hurt and deceive and confuse?] It's—

[she's about to say something, but her words are cut short by a high-pitched wail in the distance. that's not the wind, and wanda's eyes lock with claude's. wanda puts a hand onto claude's forearm, holding him there so he doesn't rise from where they sit; slowly, she raises her other hand, putting a finger to her lips, urging him to be quiet.

the humdrum of voices swell outside, hidden away by the wind. once in a while, it dies down enough to recognize them; in the distance, but loud enough to distinguish a few words, here and there.

a few minutes pass of this exact same back-and-forth, and, suddenly, there's a gentle tap on the wall by the fireplace.

tap.
tap.

tap.

—and it travels across said wall, circling around to the other, not a sound of snow being disturbed near them. it's insistent, but sounds oddly hesitant. wanda remains seated, but follows it around with her head, hears it circle around them, until it taps on the door now.

then, a knock.

wanda keeps her hand tight on claude's forearm.]

Hello—?

[calls out a voice, muffled by the wind, but otherwise undisturbed by the weather outside. seemingly, anyway. it seems playful, almost, too, as if whoever is out there know they're in here.

a few more knocks follow after getting nothing for a response, and it repeats, more aggressively.]

Hello! I know you're in there.

[stations]

I slit somebody's throat.

( It comes out bluntly, because there's no better way to say something like that. There's no real softening it, no gentling it, and Kyle deserves to know the full truth of it. He deserves to know how unstable Jack actually is, he has a right to know, considering something similar almost happened to him just now. Maybe... maybe it was a little wrong of him not to be transparent about that before now, so Kyle could make better choices in both friends and the people he lets himself fall asleep around. )

I disassociated, or- blacked out or something, and I slit his throat open with a box cutter. I didn't remember doing it until someone made me watch the security tapes.

( When he said he could take care of himself, when he said not to worry about it, it wasn't because he's cavalier about danger. It wasn't because he didn't understand a real threat when he saw it.

It's because he can take care of himself — whether he means to or not, apparently.

He lifts his eyes to meet Kyle's properly, directly, to impress how serious he is about this next bit: )

I'm not okay. I'm genuinely, psychologically, medically fucked up. I'm pretty sure in some states I could be legally diagnosed as absolutely fucking insane, so. I don't know. Maybe you might want to reconsider who you're bunking with, because apparently I can just summon box cutters now.

[londonbound]

The specter of that loneliness looms darker despite Mat's reassurances, all of those fears he'd been trying to keep buried since he got out spilling through. First a crack in the dam, and then a deluge.

"It was a dark seaside. Covered in sick, oily black. And corpses, hundreds of them, thousands -- in the water, washing up on the sand. And it was cold and went on forever no matter how far I walked. I couldn't make anything. A threadbare blanket. A fire that went out after a few moments. A bottle of drink that broke in my hands. Nowhere to go and only the dead to keep me company."

He gets through it with voice breathless and breaking. He needs Mat to understand.

"Please don't go. I don't want to be alone like that again."