abraxaslogs | INTRO LOG #2

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INTRO LOG #2

Intro Log #2

It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.

In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.

[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]

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Estinien has been regularly returning to the Horizon since he rediscovered it as well, only in his case it's been more along the lines of every day, multiple times a day. There's little else to do in his situation, after all - when not keeping Himeka company, there's not much else for him, and he needs a break from that every now and then.

It most often happens at night, however, when he would otherwise be sleeping. It's become a practiced thing, by now. He slips into the right mental state more easily each time.

He usually arrives, and leaves, from within his valley, but he's been becoming more and more adventurous. After all, he's learned that he has little to fear here. He survived death, after all, and the Horizon is emptier now than it was before, with fewer people buzzing around. Their creations are still there, and he hasn't much interest in interfering with them, but with the context of life in the real world, he's much more fascinated with what people chose to make.

Though, he remembers himself also being fascinated with the choices of a certain wood nymph he met in her horrid forest. He finds himself arriving there again, but instead of a dragon this time, he's just an elf. He journeys primarily on foot, traveling with great leaps instead of on wing. This time, he arrives at the forest's border instead of plunging straight into it.

It seems calmer now. Has its keeper returned? He enters carefully, watching for signs of the disorientating effect it had on him before.

There's a very different air to her domain, now: sun filters through the achingly tall trees in golden glints on the greys and dull greens of her forest, and the air of menace has all but faded completely, and no hunting call follows Estinien's steps.

However, as soon as he makes any move to look behind him, the path is - again - gone. Pity, that.

[With that (minor) disaster of a meeting behind him, Jaskier is feeling the opposite of what he was hoping a meeting of the guests would have left him. Things feel... worse, actually, a rope around his throat quickly closing. He has his attachments, but in the end, it's him and Geralt, isn't it? He can't trust anyone who is far more interested in helping Thorne. They need to get out of here when escape is possible. When.

It's beginning to feel as if a moment may never come.

Which means he needs to do something more than he's been doing. Geralt cannot be a tired mess and expect to escape from a bloody kingdom bent on keeping them here. They need... the smallest edge. And the trinket he received during that summer festival weeks upon weeks ago gave him an idea. He may not have used it yet, but perhaps he can find something else. Something to give them that edge they need.

It's not, necessarily, that Jaskier is looking for someone to drag into this (probably terrible) idea. He certainly cannot borrow Geralt's presence from the dungeon to help. It's only that as he is weaving between people in town, his lute on his back, that he pauses when he passes that face.

Wait. No. That's -- ooh, a terrible idea. But it's perfect.

Jaskier steps in Peter's way, shouldering his lute higher up, with a smile. That face is so... so terribly innocent. Which makes a wonderful sort of wingman, when one is going to less savory places. (Also, in his experience around here, young people are complete disasters who want to stick their nose in the worst places. What better sort to bring to a black market?)] Why, hello my young friend! You're one of Thorne's guests, aren't you? [Hard not to miss the embroidered Signs on all the clothing given to them.

Strength. Strength is a very good choice for this.] I've been here quite a while, and I have to say, I don't think I've seen you around much before. Perchance you would do well with a little tour around town? [He keeps talking, whether or not Peter's trying to respond or not. This is a Jaskier Trademark, unfortunately.] Ah! I'm master bard Jaskier, by the by. [He makes a small bow.] At your service. I try to make sure I know everyone about Thorne of any import. Part of the business, you understand?

[Of being a bard. And a complete fucking gossip.]

[Sasarai snorts at the comment about the library. He'd noticed the propaganda as well. It was the same sort of nonsense the mages have all been feeding him; pretty words about the glory of Thorne, histories written through a noticeably Thorne-centric lens.

He's seen this sort of thing before. He's taken part in this sort of thing before. So far he hasn't bothered to ask the mages about it, he's just silently wondered what foreign scholars might think of their hosts.]

I've found my way to the baths and kitchens before it just wasn't on purpose.

[He gestures down the hall.]

So if you really don't mind showing me, I'd appreciate it. I hope you also don't mind if I ask you a couple questions.

[It's his choice, Hector, that's the point. And he can defend himself if needed. Here, he gets none of that.]

In fits and starts, but not really.

[That's the other advantage. Everything can be left to the waking world. No trauma. Just sleep.]

I don't even think I'd be able to reach this place.

[Homelander's smile grows impossibly larger as he leans against the bars. The metal feels cool through the thin shirt he's been provided with. But he's not worried, the Singularity showed him- one day, he will get his uniform back. He will carry this backwards and old fashioned country out of the mire and in to a much brighter future.]

I had to keep an eye on you.

[He punctuates the 'you' with pointing a finger straight at Amos.] You've been a bad boy.

[ If Sam hadn't filled him in, that question might feel a lot more dangerous than it does. But the worst of the damage is already done, Stephen mercifully given no hand in deciding the best course of action, so instead it's very simple. He nods, a simple gesture to blow away any worries that asking might have crossed some invisible line. ]

I'm from after it's over. [ 'Over'. It won't ever be over. The universe will hold those years in a trillion scars across innumerable lives, in political unrest and ecological crises and names on headstones and wasted potential. But it'll also hold them in families reunited, memorials made redundant by a change to the end of the story. That's worth remembering too. He corrects himself. ] After the final battle.

[ Final, as if they're retired now. As if there'll never be another battle again. The history books and the patterns of their lives - even Peter's, as new as it is - say different. But he's sure, given the context, that Peter will be able to get the gist of what he means.

And with that first question answered and the lasting consequences of their hard-won victory fresh on his mind, it occurs to him to add without really pausing to think - ]

Your aunt was alright, by the way.

[ Sam probably said. But with very little good news to share, it's out before he thinks to stop it. He manages to bite down on the follow-up though: I saw her at the funeral reception. ]

[Oh, that was definitely a nerve. Admittedly, Yuri's used to his bluntness doing that, but he files away the observation anyway. Maybe this guy's a soldier of some kind, or was. Those are the types most likely to squirm at Yuri's disdain for the system, in his experience.]

I'm more worried about how it's going to affect the people trapped down there. We should keep an eye on them.

More grim than most dungeons I've been locked in.

[Maybe that's a bit of an olive branch—honored guest or not, he's still surprised he's not down here behind bars. Maybe that's part of why he's down here so much, but the main reason is more practical. He doesn't trust people in positions of power to do right by the vulnerable they have power over when things feel as on edge as they do now. Some might call that paranoid, but in his experience, going against orders to do the right thing is more of an exception than the rule. The fact that these guys locked a bunch of people up after dragging them here against their will is proof enough to Yuri that their idea of "justice" doesn't align with his.

So, the focus on the prisoners. This girl looks exhausted and distrustful, and he can't blame her. He settles down on the floor, one arm propped up on a bent knee.]

Not getting much sleep, huh?

Edited 2021-08-14 17:38 (UTC)

Been locked in many, then?

[ She raises an eyebrow in faint skepticism, though having spent the better part of a week in here has readjusted her opinions on what's normal. Not that her life was normal before, but nothing thus far has truly convinced her that this isn't a fucked-up dream she's been thrown into or dreamt herself into by mistake save the length of it. ]

Alas. At least he knows in this context that, worst come to worst, he could simply wake up, or force his own alteration onto the setting if its maker isn't there to help him herself. She did insist that, last time, all he had to do was ask politely to be released after all.

And the forest is so much more agreeable, now. Though he frowns a bit, seeing he's about to become lost once again, he carries on at a more leisurely pace, taking in the alterations. He does like forests, after all - especially when they don't seem to be screaming for his death.

While he takes his time, eventually he will call out for the forest's owner. He's having an alright time so far, but he doesn't plan on staying here all day.

"Girl!"

Abigail's eyes are red and raw from her lack of sleep, accentuated even further by just how pale she looks with her general nervousness here. Nevertheless, sleep still refuses to come to her - or at least, when it's tried to she's stubbornly done her best to remain awake, terrified of ending up with a shiv in her back the moment she lets her guard down.

Of course, there's nothing to stop Hennessy from doing just that, but if she's willing to put herself in a similarly vulnerable position with Abigail then she's just a bit less worried about agreeing.

"That might work. I don't mind taking the first shift."

[ She resents being called stupid and for just a second the fear that's so evident on her face turns to anger for just a second. ]

Unless they decided to condemn you for things you did in France.

[ She'd assumed that was how it worked, that she'd been imprisoned because of everything that had happened back in her own world. ]

Abigail watches him approach, unable to stop her stomach from growling at the smell coming from his basket. She's not sure whether to trust him, though, or whether this is a ruse to poison her and avoid the need for the execution that Eponine had described to her in such detail.

"Thanks, but I'm okay."

[Eponine’s own expression sours to match Abigail’s.]

And how should they know what I have done? I haven’t told nothing to them. That stupid man just looked in a book.

[She shrugs]

It don’t matter you know? No one never wants me and that’s okay. But not to lock me away. That is stupid.

[ Alina doesn't expect much from her cellmates, and for the most part she's happy to be left alone. They are all in prison after all. And with deep circles cut under her eyes and a lack of truly restful sleep for weeks now, hours pass before Alina's fuzzy mind really grabs onto something being off about Ciri. It's not that she doesn't care about her cellmate (it's the opposite really). But Alina doesn't know her, and compassion is a strange thing, sometimes offered more to trap you than be kind. Having had very few people to rely on in her life, Alina guesses Ciri might want to work through whatever is troubling her on her own.

She at least has to eat though. That is what finally gets her to act. ]

Ciri— [ Her voice is soft and low as she climbs just the first couple rungs of the ladder of their bunk so she can pop her head up over the mattress. ] Are you sick?

My fair share. What, do I not look like the type?

[There's a teasing edge to that question. He's so used to being called sketchy looking that he doubts he'll get a positive answer, but he's find with self-deprecation if it puts her more at ease.]

[ sam has had time to process, in a way. months that have felt like years but in the same way, has felt like it's been no time at all. still, sam recognizes that it's peter, here, who is going to need to let it settle and peter, here, who he focuses on. because tony stark's death had hit them all in different ways, different levels of impact in knowing why and how it came to be, and what he did for them all. the sacrifice.

and maybe he should have brought that up, at the start. maybe he should have gone about this entire conversation through a different way. but he hopes, somewhere down the line, he can get some credit - who would have ever thought they would find themselves in a situation where they would have to tell someone the future when it's actually their past in a world where it may or may not have happened at all? he's doing his best here.

but by god, the expression peter makes when the news finally hits him... fuck. it's like a sucker punch to the gut. sam doesn't necessarily make the decision for it, either, when it happens. all he knows is that peter looks like that and starts muttering no no in the sort of way that sam just. well he can't just sit and watch that happen. can't watch the fear and panic and grief hit all at once. so, without any real warning or though, he reaches out and wraps his arms around peter's shoulders. pulls him into a tight hug.

it hits him a moment later that this could bee crossing some kind off boundary. that maybe peter doesn't want some random guy who they only really knew each other because they were...well, on opposite ends off a war. so after just a few seconds, enough for sam too actually give this kid a hug, he lets go again. sets his hands on peter's shoulder and watches him. ] I know it's not what you wanted to hear...

{ but then peter's attention snaps back, and sam should have known better than to think that someone tony stark recruited in any world, wouldn't immediately try to find a way around it. sam lets go of peter's shoulders, then, one of his hands moving to rub at the back of his neck. ]

I don't know, maybe? That's so far out of my wheelhouse. [ sam sighs. god, he needs a drink after this. ] I don't know if you should. I wasn't there, so maybe there's a way around it, but from what I read of what happened...his sacrifice is what did it. It's what stopped Thanos. Going back and trying to stop him could... [ sam shakes his head. ] You could try and ask Strange, but I'm not going to have answers for you. At this point we don't even know how to get back.

[ over does have a weird sort of finality to it that implies it won't get so bad ever again but he knows that's not what doctor strange means. then there’s a remark that catches him off guard - more so than he already was and he blanches. ]

Oh, aha, that’s - [ a nervous laugh expelled as he swiped his hands along his knees, full-bodied relief to a question he was too afraid to ask anyone from the future. ] Thank you.

[ arms crossed over his chest, and he looks away. it isn’t that he hadn’t been worried. it’s that he hadn’t asked because he didn’t think anyone would even know, hadn’t thought about it longer that a breath or two because the idea of something happening to aunt may would have sent him careening into something irreparable.

it was already a little suffocating to know about stark. if aunt may had…

he can’t - doesn’t, won’t - ask if stark had a funeral. talking and thinking about him in past tense when it hasn’t happened yet seemed impossible. ] Okay -

[ he breaks the short silence, because he’s not going to be talking about home all this time, because he should be thinking instead of how to get out of here. of next steps! and anything else! to get back home. damn it. ]

Okay, so. That Ambrose guy - what’s up with that? Do you trust him? [ Strange might be little more than a stranger in the long run, but Peter trusts him a hell of a lot more than anyone here by inherent default, choosing to defer to the sorcerer to tell him what to think of the other magic man. ] Because we’re getting a lot of this hospitality stuff for free while some other people are arrested by fantasy cops, and it’s freaking me out.

And - not to mention, pulling everyone from different corners of multiple universes and different times of the same universe opens up a whole other thing, like continuity of everything, when we go back, and what about -

[ he cuts himself off, as if gaining a momentary sort of self awareness that he’s been talking a little too fast for a little too long, following the breakneck sprint of thought. its easy to follow that trail more than dwell on the other set of circumstances. it isn’t that no one else told him stuff but sam recommended he talk to doctor strange and then here they were!

but, he has enough wherewithal to look sheepish as he says: ] - sorry.

[The urge that comes upon her, strangely, is to laugh. It's ridiculous, that she should have been right, that all of this should be so thoroughly neat, that he is as baffled by it as she is. It's ridiculous that they should be here, all of them. It's ridiculous that in all these weeks she's spent alongside Eddie, neither of them ever thought to ask.]

[She doesn't laugh. She has a feeling that if she did, it wouldn't be laughter for very long. Hysteria lurks somewhere behind that laughter, and she won't give it ground.]

We've met.

Shared a cell for a time, when I first arrived. I take things down to him when I can.

[All that work to get himself free, only to squander it in death-like sleep. Hector doesn't know why Alucard is so determined to stay alive if he's not going to live.

But Hector's long since learned about the stubbornness of vampires. No taking them out of an idea once they've got it in their heads.]

Whatever will I do without your charming company here? [The dogs might look for Alucard for a while. Their memory for treat-bearing people ran long. ~~Just ignore that these dogs are extensions of Hector's self-conscious. It means nothing.~~]

Will you want your crypt away from civilization? Just so I can plan for how long a trip it will be to see you to your destination.

[ There is something a little uncomfortable in the way Link shifts to settle back against his chosen tree for the night, but he doesn't pursue the issue. He's said his piece about being prepared, and besides. Yuri is right to shift the focus of the conversation back to the prisoners.

Whom Link still has mixed feelings about. The apprentice mages who will speak to him are very cagey about what, exactly, landed the prisoners in their cells, and the prisoners don't seem to know themselves. He can't help but wonder if the reason for their imprisonment has anything to do with the guards' growing unease with them.

He nods lightly in agreement nevertheless. ]

Have you learned anything about why they were jailed?

[Because he's SUPER DEPRESSED! :D]

You seem to be doing well enough. [The dogs are not a metaphor. Not a metaphor at all.

Alucard sighs, offering Hector a sidelong glance at that last part.]

I haven't decided yet. And you needn't shepherded me there.

I am. Surprisingly well, actually. [There must be no such thing as karma or divine retribution, because Hector is doing just fine here in Abraxas.]

I know I needn't, but... I want to. I know you don't trust me, but no one else will know where you lie, and I could provide you with guards, if you need them.

[Hector can't make amends the way he's planned in Styria, so this is the only avenue left to him. But any mention of his guilt only makes Alucard pricklier, so he avoids saying so.]

All the more reason not to hedge any bets with me.

[He offers Hector an out at every opportunity, and yet. Alucard sighs, weary and hating how this feels like walking down a well trodden road. He asks for space and Hector presses against it out of some sense of duty or...whatevever...and they bristle that the other won't give in to their perspective.

Alucard closes his eyes, tipping his head back slightly.] I'll send a note when I've figured it out and am on construction. Will that satisfy you?

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INTRO LOG #2

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