abraxaslogs | EVENT #10: AFFLICTION

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EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

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

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

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

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

Emergence

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

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

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

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

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

Affliction

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

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

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

Corruption

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

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

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

Blight

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

Omens

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

Solvunn

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

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

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

Free Cities

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

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

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

Thorne

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

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

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

Apprehensions

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

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

Displacement

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

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

Visitation

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

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

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

Ensnared

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

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

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

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

Scenes to Explore

JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Alucard has not had the severe, serious aura hang over him like this since last year. A year ago, he was a mess. Absolutely barely managing after being in Thorne's dungeons, struggling to be in a city with people all the time, working on the best way to crawl into a grave and nap for a century because quite frankly fuck everything.

It is that last sentiment that holds now. The dhampir is aware his tongue has been razor sharp over the past few days, and beating back the dead has done no favors to an already sour temperment. If it is a backslide (it is, in every way that could ever matter), he doesn't care. The first project that kept him sane has been undone by who the fuck knows, and he hates it deeply.

But it is....it is wrong, not telling Jaskier. The bard has poured so much of his own efforts into the place, and here it is. Destroyed. Bones scattered. (Alucard is trying to get them back. He needs a new vault. He'll figure it out.)

At the entrance to the graveyard, he stands, arms over his chest.]

I am hoping that your end of the work is easy to recover.

[Honestly, among everything else... he should not be surprised.

But he is. Jaskier kneels next to one of his blackberry bushes, or rather, what remains of it. Broken branches jutting out at odd angles, the berries smashed into the soil. Leaves scattered. And as he touches them, he finds signs of rot: the leaves are blackened and coiling in, what berries still cling on touched with mold.

It can't be his magic. Not again. Not like this. When he'd been doing so well. When he'd felt... confident. Using it. Letting it flow through him.

Jaskier's hand closes around the leaves in his hand, crushing them. Because of Solvunn? Again? Could it really be a repeat of last fucking year?]

Simple to recover, but not easy. I don't have the energy for this. Not to regrow all of these from saplings. [He stands, kicking the bush, cursing.] I don't know if I even want to. What if we just destroy this whole bloody place? At least the dead can't return if they're not here in the first place.

[I don't have the energy for this.

Alucard has not been pleasant the past several days, but the words make his heart sink. That's not right. Those aren't Jaskier words, and with that thought comes a fresh new wave of anger. It's bad enough to be going through any of this again, but now? Of all times?

There's no clamping down on the anger either. Only bitter, angry thoughts that come flowing out.]

What, so I can live in ruins? [Actually, that isn't a bad idea.] So that another part of this place's past just gets thrown to the side, eventually to be covered up by some new machination of war and destruction? That the dead might truly be invited to rise up in anger because their peace has yet again been disturbed? [The dhampir can feel something angrier wanting to rip out. He takes a few steps back. They're close to the wrought iron fence.

A fence that is soon punched and crumbles in reaction to Alucard's fist.]

You like ruins! [He throws up his hands, then drops them.] I think.

[This week has been a strange one. Simply pieces of his life that feel jagged where they once were rounded. And surely, Alucard's anger should surprise him -- it is so rare he truly sees (or feels, as he can certainly feel the hair rise on his arms) anything beyond a mild irritation. And further more than he should see Alucard's strength, so easily forgotten when he isn't carrying a several-hundred-pound beam or pillar up by himself.

(Some part of him likes it.)]

Are you not fucking tired of being bullied about by the dead? I know that I am. I am tired of their grip on my life when they have already spent their own. They dog everyone I know like shadows. They could not even respect the work we put into this place. Why should I care for their anger when their indifference hurts just as much?

[Jaskier may only be able to crush leaves, but when he looks down at them, the thought is almost exhilarating -- if only for a moment.] Perhaps the dead will finally be righteous against those who deserve the anger. But I've yet to see a body in Libertas rise to trudge its broken way to Thorne.

[It is not only the first time he has even mentioned the lives lost in Libertas so directly to Alucard, but that he has spoken of them directly to anyone. A legion of dead, revenge the power of their reanimation, moving against the Queen. Why does the world never create something so beautifully convenient?]

I like quiet! I like having space to myself where I'm not crowded in by humanity on every side, overwhelming my senses. Have you ever had a too sensitive nose and then had every scent imaginable invade it on a daily basis? Because that's what it is for me, and I need to not deal with that every minute of every day.

[But then Jaskier says bullied by the dead and there's something in that that resonates with the dhampir. It is bone deep, and it has an awful revelation in it. It shows as tension overtakes the dhampir, as long nails grow and dig into his palms.] Of course I am, Jaskier. When I arrived I was bullied by the legacies of the dead and the deep contradictions between them. What my mother would want, and how my father would have brought that fucking castle in Thorne down to the ground for merely attempting to imprison him, and what he might've brought down on the whole country just to make a point. This place was a better legacy. It was constructive, it meant something to provide respite and respect, being indifferent to the dead while not ignoring their needs.

[His eyes flash red and furious, but in recognition that the bard? The bard has let out a very, very good idea. His tone is far too serious as he adds:]

A few dozen corpses left alone with that woman would not be the worst thing to happen. I would almost call it just.

[If it wasn't this moment, with how Jaskier feels already, the outburst from his friend may have actually surprised him. Perhaps even frightened him, in small ways; not in fear of his own safety, but for where Alucard's mind has gone.

But here, he almost wants to indulge in it. He wants to destroy these bushes and revel in the fact he, for once, can let go of some obligation he took on himself because -- fuck, he's not even sure why he grew them in the first place. To practice his magic? It may have been a selfish desire from the very beginning. Now they are simply another eyesore in this desert, which is always so dead and hot and dry that some days he can barely stand being in it, the days where he spends the entirety in the bathhouses or his own tub at home, soaking in water and oils.

He listens as he dives his hands into the bushes, letting magic flow. It reaches out and chokes the remaining life out of the plants, the final green leaves curling in on themselves with a brown-black hue.]

Just because your father would have taken it too far doesn't mean the first idea was a terrible one. [He shakes his hands from the bush's branches, standing, stepping past them to look at the broken soil, the shifted sands. All the tombstones Alucard repaired, cracked once more.

Well. Not all of them. Only a few. But the dead, destroying what was placed to honor them. It's so... frustrating.]

I would pay to see a bunch of reanimated corpses rip Ellya limb from limb. Believe me. And if some part of me did not know that the dead from Libertas deserve better, I would ship their bodies myself.

[And it's once the words leave him he feels a little sick, and a little sweet, both at the same time.

His hand presses to a grave that looks undisturbed. I don't mean that. His tongue curls up on itself, throat tight. And where his palm rests, a plant begins to grow. Unfurling, bright green leaves; especially bright now that the blackberries have died.

And as he stands up, staring at the plant, taking a step back, this one too begins to grow black berries. But he knows them for what they are.

Nightshade.]

You should let them go. [He says quietly, curling his fingers in.] You're not your mother, and you're not your father.

Oh, I know. Why do you think I've taken on so much work? Things that exhaust the brain and the body? I'm still furious at that mage. I'd be happy to reach into his chest and eat his heart right in front of him, then make a public sculpture of the corpse for all to see.

[A more localized vengence, but it has stuck with Alucard over a year later. Anger is hard to shake, and harder when it is indulged in the way they are now. Under more normal circumstances, Alucard would take everything Jaskier said as a sign that something is truly wrong. That he needs to worry. That he should at least tell Ciri that somthing's not right, if not Geralt himself. But here, now, who cares? And why should they? In helping Libertas there has been no time for outrage, only duty and sadness.

A dark laugh with no joy in it escapes the dhampir's throat.]

That's the kind of thing Hector's for. Send the dead, then dispatch them so they can move on. Everyone wins except Thorne.

[Mentioning Hector is something Alucard avoids around the bard, out of respect and also because he can still be unkind about the necromancer. But right now, just saying everything feels better. It is catharsis, or at least that's how he's labeled it for now.

But as Jaskier makes things grow, Alucard's face sours.]

If I let them go, or try to favor one over the other, I die. Wallachia taught me that in the aftermath of their deaths.

[Though it would be a garish display and he knows Alucard absolutely means it, he can not find it in him to be disgusted. Because he imprisoned Alucard, and Geralt.... Yennefer and Ciri. Himeka. All of these people who have come to mean so much to him, and now they are in danger, once again, from Thorne's movements. Jaskier does not fully comprehend Alucard's anger, burning wild as a forest fire, for he's never had a hate so murderous before -- and even his rivalry with Valdo Marx feels another lifetime ago. But regardless, Alucard is justified to have it. To hold these grudges.

Isn't he? Because Jaskier, without much hesitance, agrees.] And you should. The least he deserves.

[He takes a deep breath. Lets his body realign itself, standing straighter. A second glance at the bushes makes them feel less like a complete failure and closer to an annoyance.

Of course, that feeling lasts only a moment. Hector's name in the air takes the breath out of him, punching him in the gut. And, for a moment, Jaskier remembers Hector asking if he wanted the necromancer to raise those bandits. To turn them into servants. Would Hector have done that? Sent the dead in a move against Thorne? If he asked?

(He is glad Hector is not here, for the first time.)]

Everyone but Hector. He was trying to be... better. In his own way. [Someone who was not merely a tool of others. Jaskier had been privileged to get to know him, but even more so to fall in love with him.

And now that emptiness returns. The nightshades at his feet begin to flail, crawling, digging their roots down like spreading fingers.] In a literal sense? Is your hold on who you are without them so tenuous? [Jaskier blinks, turning to Alucard sharply, surprise across his face, and then, marked confusion.] I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

[It is garish. It is also mild compared to what Dracula might do in the same circumstance. How long he might pull that death out, make it last for days or weeks depending. Dracula's knowledge of science and magic has enabled terrible things. There's no reason that it would not come into play in such a situation.]

I hope he experiences a deep and humilating downfall in the near future. So too the rest of his allies.

[The way Alucard intones it, deep and angry intent, it may be a curse. Or at least an attempt at one, to force the universe to bend to his will.

There's enough of Alucard's sense to avoid discussing Hector further. He doesn't want to deal with the necromancer, and that outweighs the desire to shit talk. To get wrapped up in the fury and the faint hope he had that maybe the forgemasters could have talked his father out of genocide, rather than enabling every step of the way as to meet with their own desires. It is a thought that still rattles in his head, even if Alucard knows that it was never a possibility. What if, what if.]

You did. [A blunt observation.] And over the past two years? Yes. Apparently it is so.

I didn't. [So he heard it. At first, Jaskier was about to convince himself he'd only said it in his head. And though he has thought many things about Alucard -- most of all, that he could really do with loosening the fuck up -- Jaskier has not thought that. About his parents. Who is he to dictate how one feels about those they came from? From those they lost?

He never has. Has he?

Jaskier's fingers draw over his mouth, and he steps back, shaking his head.] I mean, I did, but I didn't. But I have the fucking good graces not to say every bloody thought that comes into my head, even if everyone believes otherwise.

[It's more like he's speaking to himself at this point, staring at the plants he did not intend to grow at his feet.] Something is gravely wrong.

[Maybe it's only a funny pun to ease the tension in the air. But it is not. The words fall off of Jaskier's tongue, but his mind halts behind them, unable to put to words what he is thinking. If he is thinking at all.]

[Great news, Jaskier. All of the anger about to explode from the dhampir has been stopped. His face sours, and gold eyes burrow into the bard.]

Did you just make a pun?

[Of all the things to be sobering, leave it to a shitty, shitty pun. There's been a bucket of water thrown over the moment, and that is a good thing. Essential, maybe.]

Have you been saying more than you usually would? [Alucard has never heard his own voice mix anger with curiosity. It is slow. Precise. His lips set in a thin, unhappy frown.]

Not on fucking purpose, Adrian! I'm being serious!

[So much for attempting to ease tension. Except he wasn't. He just -- something in him feels off, entirely, as if a leg has been replaced by an arm. That this heat in his chest is not entirely new as of this moment is somehow making it worse. And that he is enjoying seeing Alucard crush metal in his fist like it is only made of paper. Not the violence inherent in the act, but this giving in to anger.

Jaskier breathes in through his nose, closing his eyes, hands crossing his chest. He's fine. He's calm.]

Me? Usually? Do you think there is a man in this world who would claim I hold anything back? [It is an automatic defense as his shoulders stiffen, his arms crossing tighter. Closing in on himself, because Alucard has managed to find an arrow straight for him.

Another breath.] Yes. I think so. And things I do not even believe. Only... only thoughts. Those ones that pop in first, before you have truly assessed anything. The same ones that make one contemplate the effects of walking off a ledge.

[The use of real names is the most sincere indication of something being serious that Alucard knows, so he has the good grace to hold up both of his hands, trying to placate the moment.]

Okay, okay. Understood!

[This is getting worse. Alucard is well aware he can be catty at times, Sypha has called him out on it enough. But between himself and Jaskier both going at it, and seeming to create a feedback loop, well. It is genuinely scary.]

Impulsive thoughts. [Blunt and to the point. Alucard's lips thin.] The dam that holds them back seems broken on both our ends. That's...[there's a pause, and a long sigh.] Very bad, in my case.

[He snorts. Giving himself those breaths has helped alleviate this -- apparent very animated building of stress in his chest. It is unraveling. Slowly.] Impulsive. Ah, yes. A thing I am certainly not. And yes, I'm being sarcastic on purpose.

[No, he's right. Impulsive thoughts. Everyone has them, of course; Jaskier tends to voice them when he sees no reason to thread through them prior to their speaking. But no matter what his opinions on Adrian's strange family history is, he only knows fragments of it, and he is not in a position to be judgmental of how he handles both grief and memory.

Really, Adrian is rather reasonably balanced as far as emotions go when one considers what his strength is capable of. See: the fence.

Jaskier turns to him.] Not that that surprises me, but -- you've yet to impulsively insult me yet. However, considering your anger is... do not take this the wrong way, but rather easily accessed... this is very bad, yes. [And he can't decide why.

Exactly.

Jaskier pauses, clipping a nail into his cuticle as he fidgets.]

Worse yet: for a moment, I liked saying it. Not as me. As if a spirit set inside of me was delighted.

I think we'll have to qualify sarcasm for the time being.

[At least Alucard's tone makes it clear he's being serious. This is a real, genuine problem. He doesn't like it, he doesn't like a lack of control, and he doesn't like the idea of two people without that control together.

Anger though. Alucard breathes out, slowly.] No, that's an astute observation. My father had little control over his fury over the centuries, this is not the most surprising thing that might happen if a lack of control is the issue.

[Delighted. The dhampir's frown deepens.]

The feeling of metal was satisfying, I'd be wrong not to admit that much. That is the greater issue, I think. [fuck.]

Want to start betting on the cause?

Or refrain entirely.

[Not sarcasm. It won't be easy, but if there is something in the air that is influencing his words -- and Jaskier can tell, given his natural gift with words -- that it would be better to avoid miscommunication altogether.

He hates the idea that there may be something out there intending that to happen in the first place.

Jaskier bites his tongue. All this mentioning of Adrian's father is, well, upsetting, to say the least, both in that he has a very vivid memory still of the man dying in front of him in the most horrific way, and also because he truly does not wish to think Adrian reduces himself to "like his father."

Fuck, indeed.]

Oh, I go straight to blaming our giant, stony deity. After all, if it sees fit to grant us boons, why not trials and tribulations, too? [Jaskier pauses, and he steps over his bushes to pick up some broken shards of a tombstone, moving them off the path.] Adrian. You don't think this could be Thorne, somehow. Do you? Some follow-up to Libertas...?

I genuinely don't know if I have that capability.

[Alucard isn't always impulsive, but his thoughts are often ruder than what comes out of his mouth. Without the filter, he can't make promises. And at least with Jaskier, he can be honest about that very fact, and that counts for so much right now.

He rubs the bridge of his nose slowly, and then just gives up. Easy to sit right down on the ground right now to make sense of this, and maybe some soft grass might pop up to make all of this easier. If not, so be it. Jaskier's powers aren't for cushioning them when they sit.]

The Singularity was my first thought as well, but-- [Oh. Alucard flinches when Jaskier suggests Thorne. He hates it. He hates it so much, and it shows on his sour and scowling face.]

Let's humor the thought and say yes. What do they gain? And how come they can do it to everyone, and not only say, those who were in Thorne before and they've met versus new faces?

[Fair. Neither does Jaskier. But an effort must be made.

Jaskier knows he is not dangerous in the traditional sense. And not really in nontraditional ways, either. He also has no desire to craft words specifically in a way that should hurt someone, knowing that he could. Terribly easy. When so many have been open to him.

Is it just now? Is it only with Adrian -- Alucard?

He bites his tongue.]

I don't know. Discord? Is that not enough for the queen? I'm not exactly an expert on nefarious magical assailments. [Jaskier stays standing, but his arms cross over his chest, holding himself in. A chill goes through him and lingers, and it is certainly not from the Cadens air.] You know, the one thing I've feared since I left is that they do somehow find a way to harness the Singularity itself. It's certainly the goal. [He pauses, then adds:] Wouldn't you use it against them, if you had the chance? Wouldn't any of us who escaped?

[The thought is horrible. He doesn't mean it. Yet there it comes, unbidden.]

[Growing up around Dracula, Alucard has a small advantage in nefarious magical assailments. He lets that thought simmer as Jasker speaks, nodding along slowly.]

Jaskier, if I had my way I wouldn't bother with that rock. I don't need it to follow in my father's impulses. It would be enough to ensure that all of their own magic was disabled so I could sweep into that place and paint every wall red, starting with that mage who began all of this. It would be the easiest thing in the world to crack open his chest and devour his heart in front of him, and then drag his corpse in front of that woman who decided to attack a city of artists and free thought. I'd take off each limb with no more than my hands, and then display her torso and head by a noose off the castle wall.

[It's the calmness that is scarier, probably. Alucard has given this thought. Plenty of it. Too much, because it comes out so easily and without hesitation. He realizes that only after the words leave his mouth, and--

--he can't take it back. But he can try and redirect them both.] She's a planner, I think, but has a bad impulsive streak. This doesn't seem correct to her style.

[Perhaps Jaskier should be more concerned that Alucard admits to mass murder so simply -- but honestly, they would not be such good friends, he thinks, if the man wasn't upfront about it. Pretending it is not true does not change what is true.

All right, even for Jaskier, the whole chest opening thing is a lot. He pales, but he can't help but --

Oh, god. He might be getting off on this. Not --

No. It isn't sexual. It isn't anything like this. He's. Wrong. Of course there's plenty of bastards who deserve a good, hearty death, but (paint the walls red, leave the grass so soaked with blood that even those still standing slip and fall into it.) He shakes himself, and it's a war inside his head for the moment the feeling swelling through him like pleasure wars with his utter revulsion.

He cannot take seeing that sight again. He can't. But he --

He swallows bile and sweetness all at once.] Perhaps we can spare me the details when I'm already a bit fucked up as it is. [It's said frankly, without bite. Honest.] You're right. It doesn't. But I do think something is... I don't know. This is more than the dead rising and causing a ruckus again. [He holds his hands up, covers his face for a moment, rubs his temples.] I completely goaded you into that answer. Ooh, this is insanely fucked. Just -- promise me if I ask a nasty question, you don't answer it. Or I'm going to throw up on one of these bloody graves.

I think the questions aren't helping on my end. It's so easy to fall into--

[Alucard groans, pausing to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Jaskier is right. This is more than last year's little adventure. They're goading each other. They're making a feedback loop.]

The lack of filter means I can't make promises. Maybe we should find something to occupy ourselves that has less conversation, or I should go cook and say nothing or--

[In a word: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.] I need to occupy my hands and not my mouth. And don't respond to that.

[It's easy to fall into because that is the entire point of it. And it's -- it's worse, Jaskier thinks, because it feels as if someone has his mouth and spirit in their grip, but they don't, because he's consciously aware (at least now) of the glowing intensity of some thoughts versus others. As if a light has been applied to those he may have thought, rather stupidly, but given no attention to.

And the ones that are genuinely worrying to have, like peeks into an abyss he cannot help but look into --]

I'm not thinking about sex right now, for gods' sakes. [He breathes out, harsh, short. Looking at the desolation around them, the knotted ball of iron that Alucard has left behind, he feels his chest constricting. Oh. He might pass out. That would be helpful.] Wolf. You. I mean -- if you turn, and the conversation is one-sided, and you can bite me if I do something while we figure out what in fuck's sake is going on.

--That is the best idea I've heard in days. I'll follow you.

[Fuck it. Alucard doesn't make a show of transforming. He's just a wolf now, and he flops down besides Jaskier to admit how tired he really feels. He hates this, it is exhausting, leave him here and just give him belly rubs.]

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EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Closed, Jaskier

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