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Aion Mods ([personal profile] aionmods) wrote in [community profile] aionooc2022-02-13 02:00 pm

TDM #1

TDM #1
DREAMING
At first, there is nothing. You are nothing. Whatever existed before ceases to be if for a moment. Then, bit by bit, you start to become aware. Where there was not even darkness now is a dim haze, gentle and almost mist-like. You have limbs again and beneath your feet lays a path of light reaching out like limbs of a great tree beneath you, twisting and climbing out into the horizon.

You take a step forward for what else is there to do? As you walk you begin to remember what it was you were doing before the nothingness; maybe something as simple as chatting with a loved one or close friend. Maybe you were just beginning a great journey or facing off against an old foe. Whatever it was, you get the distinct feeling that wherever and whenever that was, it is not here. Not now.

The path of light twists off into different directions. When you look up you can see that it is not a sky above you but the sky of everything, a grand cosmic tapestry littered with not mere stars but galaxies and clusters of galaxies that gleam like crystals against the velvety backdrop of space. Admire it for a moment, if you will. You don't know how long you will drift here, but you are not alone. Other wanderers will come and go as you bask together in the vastness of creation.

It seems to you that there are two paths to walk in this place, the light and dark beckoning in turn.

THE LIGHT AT THE CENTER
One leads you to the center, splintered fragments folding together and colliding until only one thing remains: a light that speaks to you with the voice of all there is and has ever been. It greets you simultaneously as an old friend and as a lost child, both rejoicing in and mourning your arrival. You remember it too, somehow, with a feeling of complex nostalgia, as if returning to a place recalled from your distant childhood.

You’ll feel the same of the other wanderers that join you in the light; you know their faces, their voices, and as you reflect upon the world of your birth, you may witness fragments of theirs as well. You feel a comradery, then, a synchronicity of thought and emotion. Are the lives of others truly so different from your own? Or are you simply two hands of the same, greater being? Though some individualistic part of you may resist, the longer you spend in the light, the more you will find yourself becoming one with it.

Despite this welcoming call, no matter how eagerly your pursue its embrace, before you can fully submerge yourself in this oneness you will find yourself being torn away. As if seized by the impossibly long, cold arm of a creature unseen, you are plucked from the edge of fulfillment. The last thing you will remember is the sensation of your world, and all the others your experienced here, collapsing into nothingness.

THE DARK OUTSIDE (CW: deep despair, ego death)
The other leads towards the outside, where the splintering becomes so great that the vestiges of reality can do nothing but collapse back into the abyss at the end of everything. As you wander to these barren outskirts, your thoughts will not be drawn to familiarity and oneness, but instead to memories of discontent and waste. The darker the path becomes, the more you find yourself dwelling on life’s disappointments and injustices, of the things about yourself and your world you find wanting.

If you see others here, at first they will feel frightening or contemptible, as if representing to you the worst experiences in your life. Even if they are someone you’re certain you know, that familiarity and affection will be stripped away in the face of the great emptiness before you. In the end, you were all the same. In the end, none of this was worth it. If you approach the end together, you may even form a kind of kinship around this acknowledgment, as the need for paranoia and hatred fades.

Slowly, the darkness encroaches, and you can see it devouring all the things you once knew. Memories of your home, of those you loved, dissolve into nothing, and you can only reflect on the barren emptiness in your heart as you see it happen. In your final moments, though, you feel peace with it all, knowing that there was no other way. You step from the edge of the last dwindling fragment of being and are greeted by silence.

THE END
No matter which way you go, you are left with a single impression: you feel the world you came from die. It's a realization that transcends logic or sense; it weighs on your heart and leaves the vestiges of dark memories dancing in your thoughts like motes of ash. It's a memory of your home crumbling away into nothing as if consumed from within by rot. Returned to the void, all that's left to you is to be reborn.

REBIRTH
In a new time and place, you awaken. Stirring within a capsule of warmth and isolation your senses will slowly return, only to observe that you are trapped. Your body, as it wakes, is tangled in close, yours eyes unable to open, as if still within the womb. You are held tight in the embrace of something unyielding, so smothering that at first you only have the strength to struggle for moments at a time. Yet, as you persist, the pressure begins to relent in turn; it may take hours, but eventually you will find the purchase to push, to claw, to fight, and it will all give way.

The chrysalis surrounding you bends like flesh and cracks like glass. It tears as you force your fingers through, finding liberation one inch at a time, until finally you have emerged. As if having undergone metamorphosis, you feel old and new all at once. You are weak, piteously so, but the markings and scars of your previous life remain. As you slump down upon the smooth cavern stone, you realize that you've just wrenched yourself free of gigantic crystal, though its hollow, shimmering form is now in pieces on account of your passing. Somewhere on your body, a shard of similar material remains embedded.

The cave itself looks almost like the inside of a geode, the walls and ceiling bedazzled with greyish crystal that shines with all the colors of the rainbow. While they vary wildly in size and shape, only a few have grown large enough to hold a form like yours, and you can see the one you just escaped isn't the only one bearing a passenger within. They may have already hatched, or they may still be lingering in stasis. Either way, there's enough time that you may have a chance to speak to yours unexpected peers, or to perhaps to struggle to find something to cover your naked body with. You feel the chill of the open air against your moisture laden skin, a distant light trickling in through the cavern's opening.

Make the most of this time. It won't be long before you're interrupted.

[Mod Note: If you don't want to deal with your character being naked in front of the others at that location, feel free to assume they emerge at a different time than the others of their legacy. Characters will be 'hatching' over a period of several hours.]

CAPTIVITY
It seems that someone was waiting for you to arrive, and not in the most friendly of ways. Though the specifics of who comes to get you will vary according to which legacy shrine your character awakens at, there are certain commonalities: most notably, how they are ostensibly here to capture and imprison you. It's easy for them, all considered. You can barely stand, so fresh out of your chrysalis, and whatever powers or special abilities you may have had will not answer your call. Even worse, your would be captors are well equipped for the job.

Each group arrives with several 'whips' made of unknown materials. What makes them so special only become obvious when one of them inevitable snakes its way around your body. Whether it be your ankle or your neck, being bound by these cords puts you under the influence of whoever is holding the other end of your leash. Your mind remains untouched, but you will find yourself physically incapable of performing physical actions that go against their will. While the possibilities are frightening, thankfully they all just seem to want one thing: for you to come along as a good little prisoner and to not cause any of them too much trouble.

The rest depends on your character's legacy:

THE LOVER
The small island the shrine is built upon is approached by several modest boats with colorful sails. They carry what appears to be a collection of fearful fisherfolk and town guards. They are reluctant to speak with those being pulled out of the shrine or even look them in the eye. If they have their choice, the entire process will be done in silence. If you try too hard to upset them, the guards will sternly bring you to heel.

THE CELEBRANT
The infrastructure of an entire festival ground seems to be built around this shrine, and as a result, there are an usual amount of people present. While most keep their distance, a few will engage with the local guards that arrive to capture the Aions, complaining that this is going to interfere with their preparations for the upcoming Lover’s Festival. They are pushed aside in short order, and the rest of the retrieval will be done in a stern but business-like manner.

THE MARTYR
At first, those arriving to capture the Aions will be hesitant to even enter the barren crater this shrine is held within. Once the presence of the new arrivals becomes clear, however, they will run in as if crossing the no man’s land of a battlefield and complete their work with gusto. It appears to be mostly military folk and they seem to lack any patience or sympathy for those they capture.

THE SOVEREIGN
The captors here seem to be a mixed bag, almost as if two separate squadrons have arrived at the same time. One is a gathering of people who give off the impression of mountain folk, while the others are well armored soldiers. Though it will be hard to make out the specifics, there seems to be some manner of disagreement between these two parties over what should be done, but the ones kitted out in full military attire win out in the end. By then, they are completely out of patience for further resistance.

THE ARTISAN
The people here seem to have mixed feelings about your arrival. On one hand, it seems to be a moment of considerable trepidation, on the other, they seem unbearably curious about your nature. They will ask questions about any unusual features you have, or what your skills are, while others from the group try just as hard to shush them. Ultimately, they don’t seem that enthusiastic about having to capture you, but they also don’t seem to think they have much choice.

THE INNOCENT
Among rolling hills of flowers, at first it seems as if this shrine may not be visited at all. Before the arriving Aions can escape it, though - naked and weakened as they are - a group of fairly normal looking townsfolk will arrive. They pause as they spot you near the shrine, almost like they are hesitating about coming at all. In the end, they will converge upon you and ask for you to please cooperate. They won’t hurt you, as long as you come with them.

THE SEEKER
Armored soldiers are the ones to first pull you from the shrine, but as you arrive outside of it you'll see that it is situated at the edge of a great forest. An ancient observatory is build into the cliff face behind the shrine, and your captors are apparently in the process of negotiating with a series of robed individuals that have emerged from it. According to them, the soldiers kidnapping you are trespassing. Unfortunately, they are not the ones with weapons.

THE WANDERER
When you first emerge from the shrine, it will appear as if you have just missed a skirmish. There are a few bodies scattered about, all wearing woodland armor made of leather and fur. The victors, it seems, come in the form of fully armored soldiers. Thoroughly irritated by the fight that just happened, they will not waste time on niceties. If you try to ask them what just happened, the best you may get is a sneer about ‘those damn forest people.’ You may spot a couple more bodies on the trail leading out of the forest as well.

THE FIREBRAND
The first thing to be seen beyond the cavern entrance is a sheer drop into a raging canyon river far below you, with only a narrow path leading up the steep cliff face. It would be a difficult situation, even without black-cloaked warriors making their way down it to collect you. Struggle too much and you'll be at risk of being thrown into the chasm. These masked assailants are largely unmoved by your protests and will drag you the entire way up the cliff if you force them to. "Your soul will be claimed," they say.

THE VISIONARY
The view from the mouth of the cavern is awe inspiring, revealing the foreign shapes of a world you've never seen before. Unfortunately, the altitude of this shrine means you will also be greeted with sharp wind and biting cold. Fortunately, or not, a party of mountaineers and three black-cloaked warriors will arrive to collect you. Despite their seeming inability to defy the orders of the warriors, the mountaineers will toss you some shoes and blankets for the trek down, even if they are taken away from you later. If the warriors speak at all, it's mostly in the form of ominous utterances.

THE CHAMPION
Even if one were to stagger out of the shrine's cavern before being approached, the Aions arriving here will swiftly find themselves in a hopeless situation. Not only are there soldiers here to collect there is a moderately sized military barracks built around the shrine itself, and this particular squadron is not on your side. You will be swarmed before you can get far at all. There seems to be a mix of two squadrons here, some wearing heavy armor and red accents, while the others wear full face masks and dark cloaks.

Once you've been captured and pulled from the shrine, you will given a formless white gown made of moderately comfortable fabric, with sleeves reaching your elbows and its bottom reaching down past your knees. You will not be given pants or shoes. You're in for a journey, apparently - no matter who plucked you from the cave, most of the heavily armored soldiers in the prompts above will turn out to be 'Hylician soldiers', while the smaller number of black-robed warriors are referred to 'Achamites'. After the initial dealings with the shrines, all prisoners will be passed off to a squadron of Hylicians, though a few Achamites may follow along depending on the location.

Where are you all going? Back to Hylici, apparently.

WAITING
After you've been handed off to the the Hylician military, you have a long road ahead of you. Loaded up onto carts, and then eventually onto river borne boats, the people collected at the shrines will all be brought to a forest in the center of Horos. Along the way, the squadron ferrying you will combine with others from neighboring shrines, more and more captives arriving in your group the closer to your destination you get.

Along the way you will be fed and watered well enough (though only with military rations), and at night you will be given flimsy bedrolls to sleep around the fire with. Captives will be under constant watch by the Hylician guard, and anyone who shows any signs of resistance will be required to be bound by one of those magic whips, usually around the ankle or wrist. The rest of the trip is spent being pulled along in carts or the storage bays of boats. After the groups start converging, captives of the same legacy will not necessarily be kept together.

The final muster point of the Hylicians and their captives will be among forest ruins. For what purpose you have arrived they will not say, but the entire group will be camping there until preparations are complete. Sadly, you won't be allowed much space to explore - not without being bound and under watch. If you've behaved yourself it's possible to move about the central ruins, but only if the guards are confident they'll be able to wrangle you when necessary. It does allow for moderately private conversations along the pillars and walls of the ruins, but venturing out into the forest itself is definitely out of the question.

From beginning to end, characters will spent about two weeks in transit and waiting in the ruins. To what end is yet to be seen, but if you listen closely, you may hear whispers of a 'ritual space' being prepared.

QUESTIONS
Are everyone's homeworlds really gone?
That's a complicated issue, and while the fate of their world is not without hope, they may certainly get the impression its been destroyed from the dream they had. Alternatively, they may refuse to believe what they felt and attempt to dismiss it as only a vision. More about this situation will be revealed as the game goes on.

Can I only experience one end of the dream sequence prompt?
Characters may experience one ending, both endings, or neither. If they experience both they will struggle to recall which came first or which feels the most 'true' to them, as both will simultaneously be the thought they are reborn with. If your character refuses to pursue either path they can simply linger in the middle until the infinite worlds above them start being extinguished one by one, eventually expelling them into darkness in a similar style to the light prompt. Which dreams they experience will not dictate their intial sect affiliation.

Is it possible to pull another character back from the end of the light or darkness dreams?
Yes! If your character is able to resist the pull of either end, they will have the chance to try to pull another character back from the edge of the abyss or the edge of oneness. Whether or not they succeed is entirely up to the other character, though.

Do you come out of the chrysalis wet?
For most intents and purposes it's the same experience as hatching out of a real butterfly chrysalis, so yes, a bit.

Can my character resist the influence of the whips?
Those possessed of particularly strong wills may be able to struggle with the whip's control in brief spurts, but not long enough to make a full escape attempt. They may be able to take an impotent swing at one of the guards or fight against being pulled along, though. Naturally, doing this will indicate to the Hylicians that you are a problem, and their handling of you will become harsher the more it occurs.

How cruel will the Hylicians be to the player characters?
The Hylician military are not friendly people and come across as being a bit callous even at the best of times. However, unless you provoke them, they will be primarily focused on just getting the job done with as few interruption as possible. If your character makes a habit of pissing them off, either by constantly fighting back or just by being persistently obnoxious, their treatment will get worse. If driven to it, they may take the opportunity to take out their frustrations on particularly troublesome prisoners, via physical punishment, humiliation, or deprivation.

lyorning: (neutral)

Re: QUESTIONS

[personal profile] lyorning 2022-02-13 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Brief check. My character is unusually tall (like starting to hit into 'World Record' if he were a baseline human, nut just 'NBA player' -- he's nearly 8 feet tall). How much variety of robe sizes do the guards have access to? I assume that it's probably not going to actually be knee-length, but I want to know if we are talking 'has to be careful when moving because he really should have trousers with this' or 'look, just tie it around your waist or something'.

(Aerich also would be fine with 'okay, you get two, figure it out'.)

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vivificantem: (004. still all my songs shall be)

Father Paul Hill | Midnight Mass | Martyr

[personal profile] vivificantem 2022-02-13 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
i. The Pillars of Creation.

[Emerging into consciousness in such a way is…strange to him; it's unlike anything he's experienced, it's unlike his time spent fifty days ago, but there's a sense of closeness and familiarity that doesn't quite leave him alone, either. This is him, and it's those wandering nearby, and it's everyone all at once; it's a connection to the universe both comforting and alarming. Standing in the presence of something greater than himself, seeing the universe for what it is, and what it was, and what it shall be...

It isn't anything like he could have imagined it being, but that doesn't surprise him - for what mind may comprehend the vastness and the greatness of God?

He does pause, however, as he comes to the crossroads, that split in the path between light and dark; one choice seems obvious, one somewhat less so - but then, is it not his calling to dispel the darkness? There's an irony in that, surely, the outpouring of the fourth vial anointing his head, but for the time being it leaves him indecisive, his heart hesitant to follow.

The arrival of someone else seems to bring him back into himself, one of those wandering close enough to address; he knows better than to think it's someone interested in joining him, at least intentionally, but he isn't going to refuse to remain in their presence, either.

Paul has always been slow of speech, drawing his thoughts as though from the pit of a well far below; they're thought-out, measured, but overall not the sort that's trying to coax any particular conclusion from his current company.]


We should choose a direction; whichever calls to us most strongly. Will you come with me?


II. Acts of Service.

[He's captured in the shrine of the Martyr; although he notes his captor's lack of willingness to enter, he chooses to not make life harder on anyone than it really needs to be. There's fear in it, surely; he would have to be insane for there to not be fear in it, but largely there's just a feeling of emptiness - the sensation of being cut off from everything he knows, everyone on Crockett Island just gone from him, and for the first time in a long time he doubts. For in the absence of his world comes the shaking of his faith; there should be joy in it, if what happened was an act of God - his Lord reclaiming His people, as opposed to the darkness at the edges of his mind.

So he goes with his captors willingly; the whip does bite into his skin, offering him a strange sort of blank respite from having to consider anything too deeply. He can just be alone with his thoughts, and not have to worry about making himself do anything; his lips move silently in practiced, rote memorized prayer, because even if he can't be sure of the how or why of anything, it offers the dubious promise of eventual intercession.

If there's anything to hear him; if there's anything to intercede for them anymore. Just the same, there's a source of strength there, maybe. Be not afraid.

He doesn't eat.

It's noticeable, on this journey, that he eats nothing; rather, he'll offer his rations to anyone that seems to want it, or need it, or just generally seems to be going through it. Occasionally he'll offer for no better reason than you tried to sock a guard in the goddamned face, and while they may frown upon doing that, he certainly doesn't.

Whatever his reasons, you're being approached today.]


Take this; it's yours, if you want it.
bearshermark: made by penbeetreewood (peace offering)

I- a fellow Martyr

[personal profile] bearshermark 2022-02-13 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[Eleven glances about with an expression of deep awe, marveling at the cosmos and buoyed by the beautiful wonder of it all. He doesn't know the man beside him--he isn't the one he'd come in search of--but he offers him a soft smile]

I think Yggdrasil is calling to us. [His eyes unerringly track the path of light, and he takes a step toward it before turning back for his companion] It might be that the cycle of souls can be restored if we find Her.

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II - Martyr Bros

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goldendeceiver: (god knows you put your life)

Ernesto Salas | Arknights | The Lover

[personal profile] goldendeceiver 2022-02-13 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Why does it always seem to come right down to picking the right path in life, or death, or... whatever the hell is happening right now? Ernesto's senses feel muddled and confused as he stands at a literal crossroads, peering off into the distance, no more swayed by one direction than the other. He can't really say what is happening here, but he can feel the indecision sit heavily on his shoulders as his gaze sweeps from one side to the other, before returning to the swirling galaxies above.

He never has a chance to choose his path at all, before something is grabbing him and pulling him away from this weighty decision by force.

So much for the old adage of taking your time.
]

I. WAKE UP

[ There's not much more alarming than waking up somewhere you didn't fall asleep, especially when that place happens to be a giant rock womb. While Ernesto is fast to start struggling once his consciousness creeps back into awareness, he's still slow to actually bust himself free from the confines of the chrysalis. Whatever has weakened him as really done a number on the man, and it feels like an eternity to him before he manages to bust a full fist through the wall.

Fortunately for him, it's a short struggle after to free the rest of him from his temporary prison, and he pulls himself out and onto the cavern floor gasping from the effort.

Damn... he's not usually this weak.

Kneeling on the ground the way he is, he's sort of managed to inadvertently cover himself up, and once he realizes he's in the buff, he grabs onto his own usually fluffy (currently waterlogged and dripping) tail to pull over his lap as he looks up to take in his surroundings. More chrysalises with people struggling inside them, and more people like him looking wet, naked, and confused by what just happened.

He'll stay low to the ground and partly covered too as he calls out to the first person he sees.
]

Hey! Any chance you happen to know what's going on here?

[ He kind of doubts it, but it's worth asking. ]


II. WE'RE ALL (UNFORTUNATELY) IN THIS TOGETHER

[ The long trip to get to these ruins was a nightmare. Between the less than friendly soldiers who decided to keep the lot of them literally tethered together, and the equally less than comfortable conditions, Ernesto feels exhausted by the time they get to their newest camp.

The group of confused people who seem to have all come from other worlds has grown to a pretty sizable number at this point, and some have the questions that Ernesto has about their current situation.

He's good at playing the waiting game though, and has been nothing but friendly and easy to deal with for the soldiers in order to build up some good will. It's easier to get away with things when people trust you.
]

A. Central Ruins

[ He'll spend some of his time exploring what little he the soldiers allow him to, not that it seems to tell him much. It still puts him away from his captors, and means that he can try and have some conversations with his fellow captives.

Right now, for example, he's leaning his forearms against a broken chunk of wall, and leaning over it to call out in a low voice to someone on the other side.
]

Find anything interesting? ]

B. Inside the Camp

[ Not everyone has decided to play the role of the suck up, and Ernesto can't really fault them for that. Hell, he kind of admires the ability to stand up to the soldiers who took them prisoner, though it doesn't seem to be doing any of the more rebellious sorts any good.

That's why he's making his way over to one now, whether they're currently bound or just a little roughed up, with a bland ration of bread in one hand. When he's close enough to have a normal conversation he'll whistle at their condition, and move to put himself on their level.
]

They sure didn't take it easy on you, did they?

[ He offers a smile alongside the bread he's holding, regardless of how receptive his new friend does or doesn't look to his company. ]
lockedon: pid 4667155 (053)

are we all in this together though?

[personal profile] lockedon 2022-02-13 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He waits, because there's nothing else to do.

Because after nearly twenty years of waiting and biding his time, what's a few more weeks (give or take)? He knows better than to act on gut feeling and instinct, especially in a place as alien and cold as this one. Especially when there's a tether clinched firm around his wrist, restrictive and binding in more ways than one.

So he waits and watches, light eyes half-lidded as they march through dusty paths and bob along placid rivers. The stiff set of his shoulders and frosty expression permanently etched onto his face chase away the majority of any fellow captives looking for idle conversation along the way, which is fine by him. But apparently this guy hasn't gotten the memo yet.

Eustace takes in the ears atop the other man's head (not like any Erune ears he's seen before) and the tail that hangs idly behind (definitely not like any Erune tail he's seen before) before answering, voice slow but deliberate. ]


What's your definition of interesting?

hmmmmmm

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wakey wakey, eggs and bakey

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!! oho! Excellent!

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i wake up

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hello!!!

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:D

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ii b

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deushexmachina: (pic#15393046)

Jayce Talis | Arcane | the Visionary

[personal profile] deushexmachina 2022-02-13 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
01 - REBIRTH
[When his fingers claw forth, instinct propels him until he cracks it. The teeth of glass-like crystals bite him, and Jayce Talis cares only for the urge of progress, his throat tight and lungs burning and—

—breakthrough.

Even the air feels abrupt against his skin, an unfamiliar chill pricks his exposed skin. His limbs feel ossified, a cold paralysis stills his momentum. His staggered breaths jolt from a tightening ribcage, the burn of dread runs down his musculature. Slickness heavier than condensation, slippery and ruinous, betray his desperate crawling onto the hard cave floor.
]

What, [hacking up fluids heavier than his own saliva,] the hell.

[Golden eyes adjust to new measurements, he notes both geode geometry and—with a weighted sigh—he realizes his own nakedness.]

02 - WAITING
[There's a threshold, liminal and fog-born, where fear cedes to wonder. That light he had felt warming him and others—shining, effervescent—sears into a memory that refuses his tongue. A gleam that almost blinds him to the horror of a burning, tinderbox Piltover. Just a dream, he reminds himself. Just a figment. His mind pivots, his shallow breathing deepens. A count to four, inhale, count to four, exhale.]

Are we still brainstorming an escape? [He murmurs to his nearest company, glancing at the store of whips their captors carried in stock. From cart to boat, they've landed — a dark forest bears just over the horizon. From this distance, Jayce can see silhouettes emerging.]

Wait, [heart in his throat,] wait! There's more people!

03 - Choose Your Own
[Adventure! Wildcard option! I'm up for whatever you've got in mind.]
aquaveiled: (himeka-320)

2

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-02-13 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Just when she begins to think that they have collected all, another group joins the last. Her own from the northern forests and joined with another band from across the river a few days prior. She had hoped that in this trek towards a new forest would be the last.

Mayhaps it will be, but to what end?

She finds herself shuffled along this new coalition of the robed and lost. Himeka stumbles as she's shoved into the group by one of the soldiers, colliding with the man just to her left. ]


Oof!

"Keep it orderly!"

[ The guard admonishes.

Himeka shakes it off and flashes the man apologetic smile. ]


Sorry if I nicked you.

[ The gowns they have been afforded may not do much, but the large spike-like scales at the base of her tail are not the most comfortable when jabbed with. ]

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lachtara: (Raise)

Emet-Selch | Final Fantasy XIV | Firebrand

[personal profile] lachtara 2022-02-13 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
0. Dreaming - The Dark Outside

Time passes as he waits for the 'hero' to arrive. Surrounded by the winding spires of Amaurot, he intends to watch as they descend into madness provoked by the overabundance of light.

Though without warning, The world is suddenly flooded with thick wisps of darkness. Emet-Selch looks on from a diminutive square as the lights of the city blink out one by one, consumed by the encroaching shadows. And as each 'shade' turns to put its arms up in a meager effort to shield themselves from it, he can't help but see in it the similarity to the Final Days. 

Thoughts of the past are all-consuming within that dark; reconstruction of moments past, familiar places, friends lost, and occurrences that often consumed his thoughts with grief. He hears echoes of them, and even reaches out at the distant illusion of a place and a people he'd lost long ago pleading for them to 'wait', only to see them once again fade into nothing.

There is soon an all-consuming quiet.

1. Rebirth 

And then, the crystal around him bursts.

He lingers on his knees in the wet dampness of the crystal shards, all he can do is breathe for a few short moments. He bears just enough strength to look up at the cave that surrounds him - A place of unfamiliar design filled with all manner of spectacular-looking stones.

There are also people. Real tangible voices are somewhere nearby.  He tilts his head in their direction so he can 'see' them, but their aether is nowhere to be seen. Emet-Selch tilts his head to look elsewhere - at some of the landscape nearby - and finds no sight of aether there either. Where is this place?

Being weary in both mind and body, he manages to sit back and folds his arms. Although it's more about the lack of heat more than modesty.

"You," He demands of the other person nearby, also surrounded by crystal of their own. "Where are we?"

2. Captivity - Firebrand

It's not long before he's whisked off by those unfamiliar. Their robes bear no crests that he's seen, but they are militarily organized and equipped for the task they intend to complete. 

The strange snaking material binds him and, for a moment, he feels the familiar haze of enchantment from it. Which soon becomes apparent when his body stands up at their commend with no volition of his own. Emet-Selch only manages a poisonous glare in protest at first. 

They proceed outside where a raging river and a thin pathway await. One false step and they could all be dragged down the cliff, tied together as they are by these strange subjugations. He notices his fellow prisoner stray too close to the edge of the cliff and he manages to gather enough will to reach for their arm and yank them back towards a more sturdy path. "If you fall, then we all likely share the same fate." He chastises crisply. 

3. Waiting

It's been a long day of being carted around like cattle. They traveled through a forest - yet again one unfamiliar to him - and then through ruins which were just as unusual. The night was soon to fall and they are provided with bedrolls that barely have enough linen to be called 'bed rolls'. Emet-Selch examines it, leers at the solider that provided to him as if its mere existence is an insult, and lays it in the grass. If laying a bedroll in the grass could come across as an act of defiance, then he would have accomplished that.

Emet-Selch sits on his piteous bedroll and looks to the person nearest to him. He examines them critically for a moment before saying, "And how did you find yourself here?"

[ If you'd like something else or have a different idea, please PM me or contact me on plurk at [plurk.com profile] weenwoon ]
dancinglight: DNS (pic#)

Endwalker spoilers inside

[personal profile] dancinglight 2022-02-13 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[A lot of time has passed since then. Tsubaki remembered her fight with Zenos and then... Nothing. The others were waiting for her on the Ragnarok, but this dark, stifling locale that she rouse from was anything but. Still a little groggy, she'd been wandering around aimlessly until she saw a familiar figure in the distance... And a familiar recreation.

Knowing what she knew now... Seeing what's happened in Elpis... Tsubaki couldn't help but feel terrible. What she saw now was not the grumpy ancient back in Elpis, but the Ascian who'd given his all to those he lost. She didn't approach him right away. She was mostly pondering what to do next.

Deep breaths...]


... Emet-Selch?

[Finally approaching him cautiously but with no hint of malice or hostility.]

Are you... okay?

[A silly question considering all that's happened, but she couldn't help it. She could worry about where she was or why she was here at a later time.]

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3, adding to your pile

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good pile c:

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fingergunning: (Profile - No 2)

Jake Jensen | The Losers | The Champion

[personal profile] fingergunning 2022-02-13 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)

I: REBIRTH

Breaking free of... whatever the hell that had been had been a move made out of desperation. He'd felt claustrophobic, not able to move or see what had been going on around him. Even after breaking free, punching, pulling, dragging himself out of what seemed to be a chrysalis of some kind, he felt foggy and not quite clear of it. He slumped down on the ground when he could, feeling the chill of moisture on his naked skin, then clueing in to the fact that, yes, he was buck-ass naked and sitting his bare ass on equally bare rock.

Or, bare something. It shone a bit too much like the inside of a rainbow for him to really figure out what it was. Rubbing at his eyes, he looked back to see chunk he'd escaped from, a few other chunks around him either with someone still battling themselves out or with bodies in front of them, equally as dazed looking as he was. He got up, noticing that it took a lot more out of him than it usually did, shaking his head and holding onto the wall beside him to keep him up. His hand casually just... hung down around groin level to keep from making it seem like he was coming dick-first at anyone at eye to crotch level, going over to the body closet to him that was still in the process of pulling themselves free. "Need a hand?"

II: CAPTIVITY - THE CHAMPION

This? This was almost reassuringly familiar. Being surrounded by an aggressive force that intended to take him prisoner? Walk in the park. Clearly it was a day ending in 'y', and Jensen felt his hands raise to shoulder level, just to show himself unarmed other than by what god had given him, since he was still starkers. Though, he soon found out that those whips they had did more than just leave a lash-ting impression, because when he stepped between one intended for someone besides him (yes, he was an idiot), he found himself unable to do anything else other than move where his puppetmaster willed him.

At least that wound up leading him to something resembling clothes, even if he looked like some kind of guest at a toga baptism. It was something. And he didn't have anything on him to fight back with, even if he had the strength to manage it. He still felt uncharacteristically weak, like that one time he'd had pneumonia as a kid. He kept an eye out for anyone he recognized, half hoping he wasn't alone in this shitshow. If Clary or Cougar or Pooch were here, they'd be able to come up with something to get them and the others out of here. But so far, just a sea of faces he didn't recognize. But the whip was removed once he played along, and he opted to just stay close to anyone that looked like they might still be a bit woozier than himself.

III: WAITING

Again, not something he hadn't been through before. He'd been captured by enemy forces, though usually he wasn't treated as kindly. Not that they were kind, but there were no butts of guns to the backs of heads or inappropriate gropings towards any captives, and they were fed and watered. It was about on par with basic training, better, since they were being transported instead of having to hike for goddamn miles.

He'd found a few faces that, while not familiar from home, were becoming familiar here. Attitudes and personalities that seemed like they were on par with his thought process, for the most part. Like-minded people that kept watch, the same as him. That took note of guard rotations and the fact that these fuckers were vigilant and those whips were quick to quell any attempts to do more than take a step away from where they'd been told they could piss. Effective. More so when it seemed there was a reason for them to want to have their 'cargo' arrive unharmed. He heard something that had him staring quietly into the fire one night before he looked over to the body at his left. "Anyone else getting creeped out by the whole 'Ritual' bullshit? I'm feeling like some kind of sacrificial virgin in this white dress."

IV: WILDCARD

[Any ideas? Somewhere private you'd like to have your character come across Jensen? Planning a (foiled) escape? Just someone to talk to? Shoot your shot.]



(ooc: Prose or brackets both work well for me. If there's something here that you'd like to sort out beforehand, feel free to PM and work things out. Otherwise, I'm pretty flexible with mostly everything.)
edgevassal: (i'm not making any judgments here)

2

[personal profile] edgevassal 2022-02-14 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
Hubert isn't sure what he's trying to accomplish by constantly and subtly provoking the guards, beyond giving him some illusion of control over the situation. Quite honestly, it's immature of him, and if Edelgard were here he might have the good grace to be ashamed.

But she's not.

He's expecting the guards to react typically when he again decides to be snide. He's not expecting someone to jump in and take the whip for him. For one thing, Hubert was asking for it and he knows it. For another, it's objectively a pretty stupid thing to do.

When the commotion has died down and they've both fallen back in line, Hubert sidles up to Jake and hiss, "What was the purpose of that?"

There isn't a hint of gratitude in his tone, only suspicion and more than a little derision. Experience has taught Hubert that altruism is a very rare trait indeed.

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lyorning: (Default)

Aerich (aka Temma of Arylle) | Dragaera series | Sovereign

[personal profile] lyorning 2022-02-13 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Dreaming: The Light
Aerich had been expecting to die from his injuries, and he’d not had regrets about his own life. He’d been trying to exchange some final words to Khaavren and Pel, reassuring them that, while he accepted they would grieve his loss, that he only wished that Tazendra had not died some minutes before. Given the Paths of the Dead were known to exist, and some few undead (and most recently, the living Empress) had even returned, Aerich had been preparing for that journey.

At first, the mists hadn’t seemed too strange, as the Paths started at the base of Deathgate Falls. The peace and, for lack of a better word, closure, of this place settled into Aerich’s bones. Then he looked up. Instead of the Empire’s perpetual orange clouds, this was… well, for a man who had never had cause to look upon a clear sky, the sudden shock of the cosmos robbed him of words. Even tearing his gaze from them, he noticed others here… not Draegaerans (which Aerich, of course, thought of as human, despite distinct differences from baseline Earth-humans enough to make them a separate species), but some he would consider ‘Easterners’ (and we would consider ‘baseline humans’) and others he did not recognize at all.

He was struck by the sudden realization that, perhaps, maybe they were not so different from him. They lived shorter lives, many outside of the Empire, but had he not himself lived without the Empire’s protections for the last few hundreds of years? Perhaps they were all as much a part of this world as anything else.

He turned to share this insight to the nearest person. “Do you know, I have only but been here a moment, and I find myself considering things I had not thought of before.”

Rebirth (The Sovereign)
Of course, going from this sense of oneness and sudden expansion of one’s horizons to ‘feeling one’s world die’ is a shock, and Aerich almost doesn’t muster the drive to break out of the shell. He is running on pure instinct, and when he does emerge, it is all he can do to struggle to a seated position, find what little concealment he can, and focus on calming his emotional state and schooling his facial expression. Because, to be honest, he is aware that he has a look of utter loss on his face, and barely has enough dignity to wish to hide it. That and, while he is aware that there are others here, he also wishes to compose himself because they are almost certainly not responsible for whatever he felt, and in this state, he might well lack the control of a hostile reaction.

He hasn’t even noticed the gem embedded in his forehead, centered right below his widow’s peak.

Captivity/Waiting
Of course, that meant his reaction to the soldiers was, shall we say, lacking in his typical courtesy, and he was marked as ‘something of a problem’. The clothing (even though there had been a delay in finding something that fit at all) helped, as did having a meal. For the first time in a while, Aerich had no goal or idea of expected behavior, in a world he didn’t recognize (not his own, he could feel the absence of his link to the Orb even if he might suppose the pretense of the Furnace in the sky meant he might be in the East), among people not his own (and it was hard to remember that strange feeling of oneness now that he was something resembling alive and well). It was clear they were prisoners, but the guards had little interest in explaining to prisoners of whom and for what purpose.

At least the guards who had retrieved him had accepted his initial outburst as not habitual, which meant he had some manner of freedom of the camp (such as it was). Currently, that was spent in observation, though he nodded and gestured any of his fellow prisoners over if they were looking at him. “Good day. I have found that the events of late make it difficult to exchange polite courtesies.” The last was said with a slight twist of his mouth, acknowledging that either his bluntness, or the utter disregard for the circumstances may be seen as rude.
bearshermark: credit: <user name="morninglight"> (pray)

Dreaming

[personal profile] bearshermark 2022-02-13 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
He'd stood in silent prayer, basking in the light and increasingly at peace with his place here. Eleven turned a contented smile on the soul beside him, feeling almost as though they all shared the same heart.

"I understand," he said simply, a quiet assurance. "It feels like everything is connected- all of us, everything that's ever lived- more than I'd ever known."

Re: Dreaming

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aquaveiled: (himeka-215)

Himeka Sui (WoL OC) | Final Fantasy XIV | Wanderer

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-02-13 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
i. dreaming

[ There's a certain serenity in nothingness, a lack of worry, a gentle repose. Yet even has her wits begin to return to her, the peace she feels in her being does not dissipate. A part of Himeka feels that she's been here before, or something like it. An expanse of stars, a large crystal beckoning her to hear, feel, think. But this is different, isn't it?

For one, she isn't alone.

Himeka stands at the apex where the two paths split. Despite the dreamy reverie about them, she has the distinct feeling that one path is the right one. But she stays still as another comes to stand near her. She watches them for a moment before inclining her head to the side. ]


Does one of these call out to you too?

iii. captivity, the wanderer

[ As unsettling as the situation already is, Himeka isn't inclined to linger inside the caves much longer. That there are others with her is both a boon and a concern, what with little to go off of on just how and why they are there. The remnants of her dream still rings in the back of her head, compounding a list of potential failures despite how hard she and her friends have been working to fight for their star. But one thing at a time...

When she emerges from the caverns, stumbling on uneasy legs, she finds death.

It's sadly a sight she's seen many times over, bodies strewn across the land before them. She doesn't recoil, but she does grimace. Too late, they're too late to do anything for these people, whoever they are. But it isn't the dead she should be concerning herself with... ]


iii-a. [you] are taken

[ The soldiers are waiting, marching forward towards all of those emerging from the caves. There's someone ahead of her by a few yalms, quickly being flanked by the armored figures. It doesn't take much to discern that the soldiers are likely responsible for the bodies around them, though whether that is for their benefit or woe is yet to be seen.

But it's a fair guess that given the way they begin to grab at and shuffle the other person along, they are not there to be kind. That leaves only one option in her mind--

As she tries to straighten and summon up a ball of lightning-aspected aether--....nothing happens. No familiar tingling at her finger tips or through her veins. ]


Shite.

[ Not good. So she does the next best thing she can think of... ]

Hey, tin-head!

[ And tosses a rock at one of the soldiers trying to cart the other recently awakened away. ]

iii-b. she is taken

[ Distracted a moment too long by the fallen, there are soldiers upon her before she has time to even straighten appropriately. Though it begins as a firm hand on her upper arm and shoulder, as she pulls away the grips quickly tighten. She begins to thrash, whipping her long tail at the armored man to her right, aiming for the back of his knees to send him off balance. ]

Let go!

[ A little help? ]

iv. waiting

[ The ruins are a small reprieve from the journey to them, but seeing how many have amassed in this place is a greater cause for worry than it is a comfort. Ever vigilant in the art of people-watching, Himeka sits quietly for a while as more and more in similar slops are filed in. Too many, it feels. Why so many?

Himeka sits perched on the edge of a fallen pillar as she munches quietly on her own rations. Eating is something of a familiar comfort she is glad to take in, even if the rations are bland. Yet she pauses as she watches another, looking just as lost as she has been feeling. Looking at her ration block, Himeka breaks a piece off and holds it out to them. ]


Here.

[ She forces a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. ]

A little something never hurts.

xx. wildcard

[ ooc; I am open to anything I have already put up! Feel free to hit me up on plurk too at [plurk.com profile] doggystyle.

Also I default to brackets but am happy to match your style! ]
fallen_cetra: (Can you hear me?)

Dreaming

[personal profile] fallen_cetra 2022-02-13 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
You can hear it too, then, can't you?

[There's something hopeful in her voice, even as her gaze is lost, staring down the path. Teetering on unsteady feet with one hand clasped over her heart. Pulse sluggish but there's something in the call that makes her heart thud painfully against her ribs.]

Like...like home somehow? I know that voice, I don't know why, but...I know I do.

[The gentle call, pulling her deeper in, with voices so familiar her whole soul ached with it. It leaves her torn and anxious in a way she hasn't felt in a long time and she can't place exactly why.

Silently, she offers Himeka one battered hand, a tentative smile tugging at her lips.
]

Maybe it needs investigating?

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coerthantorment: (13)

Estinien Wyrmblood | FFXIV | The Firebrand

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-13 08:24 pm (UTC)(link)
I➔ The Dark
Estinien returns to himself beneath a sheet of spiralling stars, and his first thoughts are of dragons. The image of space strikes him as familiar now, like a forgotten home, a lost heritage - how strange. He blinks slowly, muddled memories failing to gain any purchase, his feet gradually touching ephemeral ground. He can walk, he realizes... but where?

A bright light twinkles at him from the distance, and he feels as if he recognizes it somehow. He twists on his heels, turning to face the brightness with a flinch. He takes a staggering step towards it, but then hesitates - no. Not there. A voice whispers in his ear, guiding him towards the dark, and he follows. Step by step, he wanders further, sharp fragments of memory disrupting his thoughts like shattered glass beneath bare feet. He remembers the suffocating loss of fire and ash around him, the violence of blood slick scales and painted snow. He can't believe he'd almost forgotten.

But it's never far from the surface, is it? Never far...

He casts a desperate glance over his shoulder, back towards the light he'd almost followed, but it's gone now. All there that's left are dead ends and splintering paths, the voices of days past hounding his thoughts. Had he truly forgotten so easily? After all he'd done? After all they'd done together? His claws dig into his palms as he looks, wild-eyed, into the abyssal haze of the outside. Whatever peace he's found, whatever love and warmth, it's abandoned him now. How fairweather it has been, in the end.

For those that find him in this place, it would be easy to suspect that he's a threat. The moment he sees you, his muscles tense in readiness, his reaction one of immediate and overwhelming hatred. Whatever he sees in you, it frightens and disgusts him.

II➔ Rebirth
After the emptiness of the void, warmth, even in isolation, is a comfort. Yet, the more his mind returns, the more self-aware he becomes, the less satisfying it is. His muscles shift, futile and fragile against the shell enclosing him. Memories of darkness set his scattered thoughts at ill-ease, lending an urgency to his struggles. Regardless, it is slow going. He feels as if he's spent a small eternity in smothering solace before he finally feels a crack.

He emerges with a snarling gasp, shards of crystal bending away from his sprawling body as he forces himself through. Like a panicked animal set free from their cage, it seems likely that he'd be racing straight for the cavern exit - if not for the fact that his legs and arms completely fail beneath his weight. He can do little but slough onto the smooth stone beneath his crystal, clawing for purchase, his long white hair slicked to his body.

Despite how beleaguered he is, his towering height and scared body may make his panic threatening. His naked body is littered with scars from more battles than he can count. The first thing he'll do to anyone coming near is to reflexively take a swipe.

III➔ In Transit
If there's one constant to Estinien's experience with the Hylician convoy, it's that he's eager to make things difficult - for himself, and for his handlers. From the start, he's marked himself as a problem prisoner by snapping and fighting at every opportunity. Because of this, he spends most of his time with his wrists bound by one of the whips, being tugged along by a watchful guard. Still, he finds his ways to resist. Even while bound by the cord's magic, you can see it in his eyes - he's waiting for the next opportunity to fight back.

These attempts are largely futile, of course, and the more he fails the more it seems to be a battle of principles than practicality. Once or twice he musters the strength to resist being pulled along or to even slam his fists against the helmet of the soldier leading him. If you are there for the aftermath, where he gets knocked to the ground and kicked, it doesn't seem all that worth it. Maybe you want to step in before it gets worse, or maybe you just want to laugh. Either way, Estinien doesn't seem inclined to apologize.

For the most part, it just means that he attends that evening's rations with a bloodied nose and a blackened eye. His hands are still bound in front of him as he shakily breaks apart a stale piece of bread, regarding the campfire with a thousand-yard stare. Whatever the regular meal is, he's clearly not being given his full rations today.

IV➔ Waiting
Once their military escort reaches the forest ruins, things have reached something of an equilibrium. It's almost routine now, his exchange of hostilities with the soldiers accompanying them. There's clearly no end to it, now - all of his attempts at escape have failed, and his constant resistance has only made him stick out as a particular ire-worthy target to the soldiers.

Emblematic of this is that once they are in the central encampment, he spends more time bound than anything else - especially at night, when the soldiers are tired and don't want to deal with his bullshit any more than they have to. It becomes standard practice to hitch his hands above his head at the side of a cart instead of leaving him to rest around the campfire with the others. After all, the more exhausted he is, the less of a fuss he can cause.

This is reflected in the daytime as well, mostly in that he'll be frequently seen dozing off with a whip lashed around his ankle, or hiding away from the other prisoners as much as he is allowed. His days are spent in low-burning misery, and though he's willing to talk if engaged, he seems more inclined to turn inward.

V➔ Wild Card
If none of these prompts work for you, feel free to hit me up with something of your creation! You're also welcome to hit me up on [plurk.com profile] quixocalypse to plot. Estinien isn't very talkative but he will engage with people if they speak to him.
Edited 2022-02-13 22:29 (UTC)
aquaveiled: (himeka-359)

iii

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-02-13 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
The journey isn't forgiving, though Himeka is arguably more inclined to behave herself after a while. The lack of magicks at her disposal is a big factor as well, so she occupies most of her time by watching the scenery and the other captives with her. The soldiers are more difficult to read, but they seem to be willing to leave well enough alone as long as you don't start a ruckus.

Of course not everyone agrees on that. It would only be too fitting that once the group from her shrine has coalesced with another that she would see a familiar, albeit battered face. As they're being ushered into boats, Himeka does a double-take. She knows that man.

"Estinien!"

For how quiet she's been since her capture, she suddenly breaks away from the group of Wanderers towards the boat that already holds her friend.

THANKS

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sobored: (What a Hopeless Conversation)

Junko Enoshima | Danganronpa | Artisan

[personal profile] sobored 2022-02-13 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[The Dark Outside]

[In the void, it's the darkness that gets her attention, and even if she weren't inclined to be curious about that direction, Junko's doesn't particularly care for the connotations of heading into the light. Sure, it's probably a good thing, but she's also pretty sure that things like that usually carry a sense of finality, of peace, and she can't say that's where her interest lies.

Her eyes flick from person to person out here, taking a moment to register faces, to experience those odd feelings of negativity they inspire. Not entirely unwelcome feelings, but unfamiliar, she isn't used to being wary of others, a conflicted expression on her face as she's not completely sure what to do about this. She doesn't quite know if she should be in dismay over these experiences or let a smile creep onto her face.

So because of that, she'll focus her attention on the all consuming darkness going on, watching seemingly everything hopelessly be destroyed by it. Occasionally something gets her attention, her gaze seems to focus a bit more than just passively observing, a glimpse of home, a familiar face, but that soon too is gone. Oh well.]


[Waiting]

[Well this is all off to a super interesting start if you ask her. First the crystal cocoon then those guys with the whips, it's all so hopelessly strange. And she hasn't quite tired of it yet, so she's been going along with things, putting up with that bombardment of questions from her not so enthusiastic captors. Still, she's managed to resist her worse impulses, brokering little more resistance than the occasional complaint about things, which works about as well as she'd expect. Still, she's not causing any huge problems, so Junko doesn't have too much trouble finding someone to talk to in the ruins, wanting to...well, not necessarily pick their brains about what's going on even if it sounds like that, but just to make conversation. The soldiers aren't really her ideal conversation partner for what it's worth.]

Hey, so what do you think is up with that whole ritual space thing? You heard them talking about it right? You don't think they're gonna like, sacrifice some of us or something, do you?

[Probably not, but she looks like she might be a little worried about that idea. Or anything that could happen really, it's a hopelessly weird situation, anything can happen and it could be super horrible! Which isn't that far off from what she's thinking, even if her visible expression doesn't necessarily match what's going on in her head.]

[Wildcard]

{If neither of these work, feel free to throw something else at me or message me at [plurk.com profile] opticblast to work something out!}
Edited 2022-02-13 20:41 (UTC)
devilmancrybaby: <user name=the_sad_gay site=twitter.com> ((therefore you can't call him crazy))

waiting

[personal profile] devilmancrybaby 2022-02-14 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ Binghe tilts his head slightly. ]

Only some? Surely it would be all of us, if that's what they'd brought us here for?
Edited 2022-02-14 04:39 (UTC)

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theorems: (pic#15438960)

Viktor | Arcane | Seeker

[personal profile] theorems 2022-02-13 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
1. 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

[A reverie, a hallucination, something in between. Dream-walking is what it feels like. The stars are distracting, a night sky like this isn’t ever seen from Piltover, with it’s city lights that never fade. Even this, he doesn’t think, is a sight viewable from any part of Runeterra. There are whole galaxies present here, observable without any sort of telescope and as plainly visible as clouds are to the sky.

Both paths call to him, strangely. The dark whispers something curious and unknown, and that plucks at his interest. He takes a step toward it without thinking, but not yet going down it’s path. The light sounds like rushing water and laughter. Of a yearning for friendship, and connection. Something he still wants so deeply.

A strange path appears, rocky and sandy. A small river next to it, proving the dreamscape of this world is malleable, if just a little. Viktor stands there, watching it, as if waiting for the moment something’s supposed to pass. If he expects something to be in the river in that moment, will that guarantee it’s presence?
]

2. 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐫

[While the negotiations continue, it seems there’s room for quiet conversation, as long as it’s held at a volume no one will clue into. With the whip wrapped around his neck, Viktor’s mind fights his instinct to pull it away, and instead his hands fidget at his sides, searching for some sort of stimulation to take his mind off the clawing anxiousness clenching around his heart.

To anyone else nearby, also under the influence of one of these whips, he whispers in a gentle accented voice:
]

Negotiations seem to be running in the favor of the ones with weapons.

[Just an observation, although not exactly a happy one.]

3. 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

[The trip has been horrible. No point in shying away from that. Part of him is convinced this is still an extension of that dream, but it’s gone on for far too long for that to be true. At some point, he would have woke up from this nightmare, wouldn't he have?

During their meal (if it can be called that) at the final point, Viktor pushes whatever food is around on his tray, and looks to what someone else might be eating. The same thing as it's been every day since, it seems. Equally unappealing. At least he's been obedient enough as it is that no guard seems to be paying him mind, slipping the utensil into the slip of clothing they've been provided.

If someone manages to catch him doing that, he stares back at them, eyes wide and then narrowed quickly.
]

You saw nothing, hm?

4. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝

[DM me if you have another idea in mind! I’m open to basically anything, and can match styles.]
goldendeceiver: (and it's both cradled you)

3. Waiting

[personal profile] goldendeceiver 2022-02-13 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ernesto has been keeping his eyes and ears (all four of them) peeled since the moment he was first captured. Sure, he was weak enough during the initial subduing process that he might have missed some details as he was being forcibly dragged into captivity, but who can blame a guy?

He certainly hasn't been missing much since they all arrived at the ruins bit by bit, and he definitely didn't miss that slight of hands. As someone who has been known to cheat at cards, Ernesto feels qualified to assert that might not have been the smoothest move he's ever seen, but the guards certainly didn't seem to notice it.

He's been sucking up and playing nice for the most part, but it's not because he has any more desire to be held prisoner than anyone else. So when he's asked that question, the dog-man raises his brows, gives a single wag of the tail, and asks in perfected mock ignorance.
]

What now?

[ He'll even keep his own return question vague, just in case the guards happen to overhear him. ]

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affal: (Default)

makoto | MADK | the firebrand

[personal profile] affal 2022-02-13 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)
( content warning: due to the source material, threads might contain reference to: suicide/suicidal ideation, gore, dismemberment, cannibalism, underage prostitution, and potentially others I will be sure to warn for if they come up! )

I: dreaming: the dark outside
( it turns out that the world ends with neither a whimper or a bang, but with little more than a dull recognition. makoto lets it go without much care or thought. he had never had any attachment or affection for the world of humans or the world of demons — they were both prisons in their own ways, though their bars were different and the jailors wore different skins. really, oblivion had always been the easiest answer for the questions he posed to himself. the only regret he can feel clinging to himself is that he hadn’t been able to accomplish it, in the end — that he hadn’t been able to watch the twist in J’s face as he realized he’d finally surpassed him, how it would feel to finally tear him to pieces, figuratively and literally.

dwelling upon this pulls him into the dark, cast to the far-flung rim of everything and nothing at all. memories and remorse form psychic building blocks about him: a huge, opulent Roccoco palace, now forlorn in its echoing emptiness. it falls into dark and disrepair, followed by a once-rowdy tavern in the slums of Hell, a once-bustling brothel where demons pursued perverse pleasures, a once-orderly village that was a territory for mercantile werewolves — all forming as if from sand and smoke before being blotted out again. he doesn’t care about any of them, nor any of the demons he might have expected to have found there. only a yawning feeling of unfulfillment that opens up in his chest and threatens to swallow him whole.

oddly enough, he can sense that he’s not alone. is someone else here on the edges of despair, locked in the same conflict he is? if they are, he only has one question to ask: )
What is it that you left behind, unfinished?

( he can conjure the briefest images of anywhere he’s been — a schoolroom now, a house full of so-called “family” who had done nothing but revile him — but he can’t seem to muster up an image of him. arcing horns, flowing hair, angelic wings… fury boils in the pit of makoto’s gut. J denies him even now. )
II: captivity: firebrand
( as soon as he arrives at the light of the end of the tunnel, makoto’s eyes fly wide. there is nothing but broad-open expanse spread out in front of him, a drop-off into emptiness so sheer that he feels his stomach twist and churn as his attention is gravitationally pulled down towards the raging river far below. his breath catches in his throat, heart hammering as his head swims with vertigo. slowly, he forces his eyes upwards to see thin switchback path up the clifface — and that it wasn’t empty, instead hosting a small group of dark-clad soldiers slowly marching down his way.

his expression falls, though largely into one of irritation. lovely.

he weighs his options. he could try to escape, but, try as he might, he can’t seem to draw his wings (and even if he could, he’s still fledgling enough with them that he might just plummet to the bottom of the canyon regardless). he could wait to accept whatever the soldiers might do to him — it’s not as though he could fight back, even if he didn’t feel as weak as a newborn foal. or he could jump. his thoughts linger on that longer than they might have in other minds; they were thoughts not too dissimilar from the ones he had had when he had summoned a demon in his bedroom, years ago. but, no. the hell he had called home might have fallen apart into nothing, but that didn’t mean everyone else had. if J were still alive (there’s no question in his mind he is), he still had purpose to fulfill before he tossed himself willingly into oblivion. there would be no destruction for that demon than one by makoto’s own hand —

so he waits for the soldiers, greeting them with a broad smile. )
Good afternoon, gentlemen. The path you traveled to get here was long and harrowing – might I ask what you intend to do? ( silence, then, gruffly: “we are here to collect you. your soul will be claimed.” again, makoto’s smile falls a degree in annoyance. ah, what else is new? he sighs long-sufferingly, looking up the long, narrow path before gesturing frankly to his still-disrobed body. ) Well, do you at least have anything to wear before trudging—

( and that’s when one of the Achamites literally throws one of the white gowns into his face, effectively shutting him up.

fellow firebrand, unfortunately here you are after the end of your world, trudging up this switchback path guarded on all sides by intimidating black-clad soldiers and alongside a strange young man who… has once or twice tried to convince one of them to physically help him along their way. the second time he asked one of them, he received a whip lashing around his neck for the trouble — he flinches back at it, raising a hand to grasp at where it had wrapped several times around just beneath a thickly-stitched seam that seemingly attached his head to the rest of his body. he becomes more amenable, but only just to the warriors. instead, he turns his attention to you, looking at you with sidelong curiosity, the pale irses of his eyes stark against red sclera. )
You would think they would be more gracious, assuming they want to deliver us and our souls in tact.

( this earns him another small tug from the whip, nearly throwing him off-balance. )

III: waiting
( makoto is not the type to bewail his brand new form of captivity — not for long, anyway. whenever faced with a stark change in surroundings and scenario, he would allow himself just a moment of despair before throwing himself into whatever all-encompassing goal came next. before, it had been learning about demons and hell, then learning about J and his history — now, he tries to learn more about where they are and what the hell is going on.

so after a time of extensive pouting in the carts on the way here, he splits his time between strategically loitering where he can overhear some of the more loose-lipped guards and searching the ruins all of the strangers had been corralled in. he can’t make any sense of them or whatever details might have once been carved into them, but he is greedy for knowledge that might be useful later; he mentally files away whatever he finds even remotely interesting.

at some point in their holding pattern in these days of captivity, he addresses you. it could be that he was assigned a bedroll nearby you and he asks just before bed, or as you are gathered around a fire, eating whatever rations you’re given, or even just as you get your bearings or interminably wait. a young man with long, black hair that falls wildly about his face and odd eyes — somehow, the calculated smoothness of his voice is slightly more unnerving. )


What first comes to your mind if I tell you that “a ritual is being prepared”?
IV: wildcard
( for anything else not prepared above! makoto will be biting and clawing his way out of a crystal chrysalis in the firebrand shrine. if you have any questions or wish to plot anything out, please feel free to PM me! )
couriering: (pic#13740908)

i wave my paws at you (iii)

[personal profile] couriering 2022-02-13 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he's been laying down, flat on his back, wondering exactly what the hell kind of situation he's gotten himself into. the past days have been a blur of mostly nothingness--- picked up from his shrine, escorted, practically couriered (ha)--- and to be in such a position and unarmed?

let's just say that he's fortunate that he knows how to be a quiet and invisible presence when needed, but unfortunate in that his charm hasn't completely worked his magic.

at least his bedroll smells nice. right? maybe that's why they keep him around... ]


We're in trouble.

[ that's his answer and he smiles. his patented grin, his default expression as he sits up and props himself up with his elbows. ]

How about you?

🐾💖

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horrorlogist: (Default)

Nox | Wakfu | Artisan

[personal profile] horrorlogist 2022-02-13 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Captivity
[At the Shrine of the Artisan where soldiers mill around without any particular urgency, some of them feel free to perform their own exploratory and sometimes invasive investigations of their captives. A small crowd forms centered around an especially curious figure. With the shafts of their weapons the bystanders poke and prod at what appears to be a sort of robot, made of metal and rags forced and shaped into the form of a man, topped with a metal "face" with two eye holes that glow from blue light within. It puts up no fight and reacts only with a tinny, yet inappropriately emotional voice that bounces between cheerful and enraged, the swerves occasionally scaring some people off.]

What's the problem? Haven't you seen a faithful of Xelor before? Of course you haven't! Haha!

Waiting
[As the newcomers are loaded into their carts Nox seems to withdraw into himself, becoming closed off to the world or the everpresent guards that surround them. During the day he is almost inanimate, silent and shock still except for when he is corralled somewhere, at which point he shuffles off without any protest. Sometimes at night he can be heard speaking to himself over any company.]

So the World of Twelve meets its untimely end - and not even by my hand! All my naysayers doth protest too much, after all.

[If he spots someone in the party attempting an escape or a rebellion, he'll speak up, breaking his self-imposed isolation with an unblinking gaze that suddenly seems to be seeing instead of just staring off into the distance.]

Why are you even bothering? It's all over. We all saw it back there. Or are you the slow and unobservant type?
coerthantorment: (120)

waiting

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-13 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[Something about Nox's particular wording gets Estinien's attention, reaching past his exterior of sullen quiet. It's clear that he's been trying to escape, by the bruising on his face and the blood still caked along his nostrils. The 'World of Twelve' seems to strike him as familiar, even if it's unknowingly an incorrect assumption on his part.]

Quiet.

[He's angry, but only because Nox is putting words to the exact thing that's been on his mind this entire time. He felt it happen. He saw it all melt away, while he did nothing to stop it. And yet... he's still here... and yet...]

It's not over. It couldn't... [Not after all they'd done, all they'd fought for.] ...With all that's happened, it could just as easily be some trickery of the mind. Would you truly be so credulous?

Re: waiting

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edgevassal: (pic#14384962)

hubert von vestra | fire emblem: three houses (azure moon) | the champion

[personal profile] edgevassal 2022-02-13 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ 0. dreaming | the dark outside ]
[No.

Hubert had known, of course, that failure was a very real possibility. Indeed, the prospect of it had loomed ever larger the further that Faerghan forces encroached on Imperial territory. They'd have been knocking at the gates of Enbarr next. Victory, at that point, would have been nothing short of a miracle; Hubert and his lady had accepted this with set jaws and straight backs, as they had done with all things.

But for it all to be ripped away now? To be denied the dignity of a death in service, to deprive Edelgard of seeing everything she'd worked for to its bloody end, even if it was not one in her favor--the unfairness of not even being allowed a death on their, on her, own terms nearly takes his breath away. That the rest of Fodlan had apparently burned as well matters very little to Hubert. Edelgard was all that truly mattered to him anyway, and it's her death that throws him.

Especially considering that Hubert himself still lives. Somehow.]

[ 1. rebirth ]
[It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to recover from the rebirth process. He simply lies on the floor for solid minutes, stunned and disbelieving, shaking with horror and an old and familiar kind of rage. And then, after several moments, with cold. It's that that makes him finally get up. He will have time to dwell on his failures later, but simply rolling over and waiting to die is not in his nature. He will need to learn everything he can about the current predicament if he wants to decide how to proceed.

That he is naked is of no real issue, aside from the obvious vulnerability it gives him. Similarly the wet only serves to make him cold, which is hardly a real problem. There is a crystal embedded in his chest just below his ribcage, over his solar plexus; trying to remove it yields no results, which doesn't surprise him, but he huffs out a dismissive scoff anyway.]


Ridiculous.

[No point hanging around here, even to help the other awakeners orient themselves. Hubert has no intention of simply staying here and waiting for something to happen; the light indicates there's a cavern entrance, isn't there?

Unfortunately, the weakness of rebirth means his body refuses to cooperate, and all he can manage is standing on shaky legs and bracing himself agains the cavern wall. His goal is to head toward the light to outside and get his bearings, but the journey proves very slow going and he threatens to slip several times. Not that he'll let it stop him.]

[ 2. captivity ]
[Unfortunately, he doesn't get far. The soldiers outside the shrine subdue him humiliatingly quickly, though in Hubert's defense the nature of their bond-magic is completely alien to him.]

Unhand me.

[They don't, of course. They barely acknowledge him beyond one pulling him along a little too roughly when he tries to get mouthy; there'll be a decent bruise forming on his forearm later. Hubert can't actually resist them, due to the whips, but the mutinous expression on his face indicates he would very much like to.

There is a moment or two where he finds he's able to resist the whip's influence enough to stubbornly dig in his heels when the soldiers tell him to move, but all this gets him is being shoved forward instead and he does not try it again. It's more prudent to bide his time and look for better opportunities later.]

[ 3. waiting ]
[Hubert's petty acts of rebellion are enough to get him a whip permanently tied around his wrist, which is frustrating but not something he can say he is that upset about, considering he'd be a captive either way. Actually, he seems to take a weird pride in the fact that the soldiers find him annoying. He doesn't regularly sass them, but he does smirk whenever they have to take extra effort to keep him in line.

For the most part, he keeps to himself and away from the other captives, but there's a limit to how much he can do that with how packed in they are. As long as he's going to be shoved in next to a stranger, whether on the cart as it makes its journey to the next shrine or by the campfire at night, he might as well gather information.]


And where are you from?

[His tone is almost sarcastic. He's not exactly curious, or really does he care at all, but the more he knows about this supposed multiverse the better. It's clear most of these people, if any, are not--were not--from Fodlan. Hubert does not like being in the dark, as far as information goes. Otherwise, well...

Closer to the end of their journey, within the forest ruins, his interest becomes a bit more genuinely concerned. In his experience, few good things come from rituals.]


What have you heard of this ritual?
devilmancrybaby: <user name=meltesh28 site=tumblr.com> ((la la lovey dove))

3

[personal profile] devilmancrybaby 2022-02-14 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
Ritual?

[ Binghe sits up a little, a frown pinching his brows together. If someone had said something like that before now, wouldn't he have heard--? No, he reminds himself; of course not. He no longer has a cultivator's exceptional hearing. It makes sense that this man who's just been pushed down next to him might have overheard something already that he hadn't.

He leans closer, speaking in a low voice. ]


I haven't heard anything about it. Senior, kindly share what you've heard..?

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bearshermark: credit: <user name="morninglight"> (Default)

Eleven | Dragon Quest XI S | Martyr

[personal profile] bearshermark 2022-02-13 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Dreaming

He could hardly walk for staring, enraptured by the great cosmos around him, wondrous and vast.

"It's beautiful," he said quite without meaning to, the words slipping from him through pure sentiment. "I never imagined the Void would be like this.."

And the path he haltingly walked spread out as though he were traversing the branches of Yggdrasil Herself. Eleven caught the eye of another wandering soul with a complex smile.

"Have you been here long? I've heard tell that souls find themselves trapped in this place."


II. Rebirth

[Reincarnation is like nothing he imagined. Considering his soul had already been reincarnated once before and he recalled nothing of it, Eleven's efforts to force his rebirth stagnate quickly once he realizes he isn't entirely trapped. Breaking free is possible, but should he be trying to? Over the course of hours, he watches others break free and wonders.

The memory of Light, as though encompassing all of Creation itself; the feeling of something well and truly divine-- Yggdrasil's immortal spirit, beckoning him to rejoin Her. Then, Darkness; a spreading disease of Death corrupting and consuming everything it touched. Then the cold in sudden absence, ripping him away from all he'd been connected in a spiritual injury deeper than any physical death.

Eleven shudders with it, recalling a time he'd felt something akin to that sensation- the loss of his power, torn from him in violence and never recovered. Only, as his hand reaches to touch the center of his chest, still a terribly ragged starburst of torn skin, what lay at its center, as though filling the spiritual hollow he'd borne since the Fall..

His efforts to free himself redouble. He's as careful as he can be, but persistent, and so it's still quite some time before he emerges from the chrysalis, taking in lungfuls of air with the jolt of wondering how it is that he'd been breathing before. Having spent so long watching others birth and well aware of his own nakedness, it doesn't bother him unduly as he glances about to the others, then to the crystals they'd left behind that don't resemble a leaf or anything so much as a bud in its infancy]


I thought I'd known, but.. What's happened to us?


III. Captivity

[Eleven imagines this is what it would have been like if he'd been captured by Heliodor. Marched across the lands on minimal rations, though without the threat of those terrible whips.

He's quiet and subdued through most of the travel, hands coming up to protect the crystal embedded in the center of his chest whenever tensions flare. But he watches the others, and when it seems safe to converse in low tones, carefully picks his way among the ruins to others]


Hey. How are you? My name is Eleven.

[ooc: action or prose are both fine! I will match]
Edited 2022-02-13 22:25 (UTC)
perfectlygoodbird: (may we be friends?)

Captivity

[personal profile] perfectlygoodbird 2022-02-14 11:50 pm (UTC)(link)
My name is Meteion, [the girl responds, looking up from where she's been sitting, head tilting, curious and birdlike. No real surprise, with how she looks.]

I am...unharmed. You seem unharmed, Eleven. Are you all right?

[She can probably also tell how he is, thanks to dynamis, but so many things are strange here, and Meteion doesn't feel as if she should contribute to that too much. Nor should she call attention to anything--that, she knows well. The daring are punished for their hubris. Their captors have something in mind, but not even she knows what.]

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so sorry for the delay!

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intermingled: ([malagraphic]d68UhTN)

Spock | Star Trek (Discovery-era) | Seeker

[personal profile] intermingled 2022-02-13 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
The Dark Outside
[ The weight in Spock's heart is almost too much as his mind is forced to dwell on its deepest wounds.

His father, disappointed in him and disappointing to him, somehow emotionless and cold all while Spock seems to never be enough or right for what he's expected in his half-human son. Truthfully, Spock doesn't feel particularly impressed with Sarek, either. Raised on Vulcan and with the love of his human mother, he'd still be left feeling a lack of something from his father. Or maybe because of his mother, he'd known exactly what his father had been incapable of giving him. And of course that had in turn left Sarek unhappy that Spock had wanted the love at all.

His sister, gone without him to never return. He'd been prepared to walk away from his entire life with her and it's not her fault he hadn't been able to go, but he still resents that it happened. It's not her fault and yet Spock has nowhere to focus his anger about it. The loss and grief that they'd only just mended their relationship in time to say a permanent goodbye.

He realizes he's not alone and he's become lost in thought and he turns his sharp gaze on the other person.
]

Who are you?

Rebirth
[ It's a tight space, but Spock isn't claustrophobic, so he breaths slowly and pushes against the boundaries as much as he can. He keeps having to pause, to breath again and recover from the exertion. He's not used to feeling weak, not when he's stronger than humans and usually surrounded by many of them, but here he is trying to straighten his limbs desperately pushing out through the shell around him until his hands finally break through and he fights his way out.

He lands on the ground in a heap, naked and shivering, but immediately pushing himself up to his hands and knees. There's no self-consciousness associated with his nudity, but his body is built for a warmer climate than most humans and the cool air has his muscles twitching and shaking as he tries to rise.
]

Who's there?

Captivity - Seeker
[ It's the robed figures who feel most familiar to Spock's life experience, but he isn't in a position to fight with the whip twisted around his ankle and he wouldn't want anyone to risk their lives for him, so once he figures out that he can't resist for more than a brief moment himself, he resigns himself to following the orders he's given for now. ]

I would be interested to know how these work.

[ He's glancing down at his ankle as he walks and can't help the urge to try to turn around when his body locks up again. ]

Waiting
[ Spock doesn't mind the military rations. It's better than having to eat meat and more efficient nutritionally than most options, anyway. He isn't particularly resistant to his capture and moves along as he's told for the most part, eating and meditating when appropriate and quietly taking in the details around him. It would not be logical to fight back without a plan and he does not have one yet, but he is keeping an eye out once they're allowed a little more space around the ruins for anyone who does seem to look like a potential ally in escape.

His face is still and impassive as he settles down, seemingly by chance, near such a person. He folds his legs under him and closes his eyes, as if to meditate, before whispering:
]

What do you make of this place?

Wildcard
[ Want something else not on here? Toss it at me or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] blauren to plot. ]
brutallyefficient: (Reflective)

Waiting

[personal profile] brutallyefficient 2022-02-14 02:42 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not sure...

[ At the mention, Connor looks around the surrounding area. There are guards posted, other people around, and ruins that seem ripe for exploring further. There's a lot of information to handle and process.

For now, he looks at the rations he's been given and holds them out towards this stranger. He doesn't require food, so better that someone else has it. ]


Would you like more? This isn't something I can eat.

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Well hello!

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the dark

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salvageable: (pic#15332057)

kim dokja, omniscient reader's viewpoint | the martyr

[personal profile] salvageable 2022-02-13 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)
I. REBIRTH
[ There's nothing all that enjoyable about being chambered inside of a chrysalis and then having to break out of it. By the time Dokja tears his way out, he's exhausted, limbs shaking with the effort to pull himself across the cavern floor to then sit and lean against a nearby wall. He's distantly aware of the creaks and cracks of other crystals around him, but his dazed eyes drop down to his scarred fingers, counts each one, notes the length of them, before he curls them in and tucks his hands against his bare chest.

He's powerless, like when he'd taken part in the Old Story, but maybe weaker than then. And there's an emptiness in his head that he can't grow accustomed to, a constant searching that goes unanswered.

The Wall isn't there.

It's then that he fixes his gaze on the nearest person to emerge from their own crystal, watches as they struggle in the same manner he had just moments before, and realizes these are all people who must be experiencing the same thing as him. ]


Hey, [ he calls out to them as he tries to stand and finds that his legs won't cooperate with him, like they're brand new. Even so, he takes a few stumbling steps toward them before he crouches down to grab at their shoulder—More to stabilize himself than anything. ]

Did you have that same dream? The one where your world died?

[ Geez, Dokja, let them catch a breather first. ]

II. WAITING
[ He moves because it's the best way to get his strength back. Well, not the strength that he's used to, but the one that lets him walk without feeling like a newborn fawn. Dokja's cooperated for the most part, having taken those who refuse to do the same as an example, and that's allowed for him to venture about somewhat freely. He has a guard following his every move but they leave him alone so long as he stays within an allotted perimeter.

And he does. Kind of. Every now and then he tests how far he can go before quickly stepping back the moment the guard looks ready to cut in, and that's given him an idea of how much he's allowed to push.

When he comes across another captive, he's quick to lean down and offer a hand to help them up. ]


Take a walk with me.

[ He's got much to ask. ]

III. WILDCARD
( if you want to throw something different at me or want me to throw something else at you, go for it and/or let me know! you can pm me at this account. )
goldendeceiver: (god knows you put your life)

ii. waiting

[personal profile] goldendeceiver 2022-02-13 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ernesto hasn't been testing his own boundaries quite the same way, but he has been watching what others are doing. He doesn't need to see how far he can go before the guards react, because there are plenty of other people who seem willing to do that instead. He's always been pretty good at waiting and scheming, and his hefty pool of patience has really been coming in handy right now.

He's seen this man before too, and noticed he's one that seems to be testing the guards. It makes him a little wary when the hand is offered, but Ernesto isn't trying to make any bad blood between himself and his fellow captives.

So he takes the proffered hand, and hoists himself up.
]

Something I can help you with?

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rebirth.

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O_O he

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ii no naked seonho for u

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ii. waiting

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hello.... beautiful man.....

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ii. waiting

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judicatus: (♞ back turned)

gabranth || final fantasy xii || the martyr

[personal profile] judicatus 2022-02-13 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
i. dreaming
[ when the last of his vision fades to dark, so too does the world around him fade to nothing, leaving only the ache of his battered, broken body — an ache that gradually descends into cold, colder still, leaving no comfort in its wake save that of oblivion.

but this oblivion does not lead unto eternity. though his senses remain dulled, blunted by what should have been a sure death, gabranth yet sees a light before him, and a path he cannot help but follow.

home, says the feeling newly burgeoning within his breast. home is here, it cries in desperation. only one place has ever been home to gabranth — to the man once known as noah fon ronsenburg — and it burned so, so long ago. but the scent carried on a sudden breeze is unmistakeable, as is the rustle of unseen leaves; if he stretches out his hand, he feels as though he might grasp something of his homeland. ]


Where... [ but is that the question he truly wants to ask? ] Why?

[ why, he asks of no one and nothing in particular. nothing save the light before him, or perhaps another at his side. ]

ii. rebirth
[ though gabranth's body is slow to wake, all at once does the sensation come crashing down upon him: the overwhelming crush of his surroundings, blinding and overwhelming him in turn. this cannot be the embrace of death, he realizes; it would not cling so tightly.

he fights, and he struggles, and he perseveres — and ultimately he wins free, punching through the outer shell and tearing it apart until he has enough purchase to pull himself from the chrysalis. he gasps for air, his lungs burning from the effort, and stumbles forward to collapse upon the cavern floor. his limbs shake from an exertion he hasn't known in many long years; he can scarcely catch his breath before he lifts his head to better look at his surroundings.

crystal, in such multitudes that he cannot help but wonder if he hasn't ended up in the afterlife after all; crystals of all shapes and sizes, some broken and glistening, others with shadowy shapes moving inside them. after a moment of stunned, gawping silence, he looks down at himself, to check for any evidence of vayne's assault — to check for the evidence that he had been killed — and while he does find a number of scars that were most certainly not there before, he also finds something rather more surprising than that.

gabranth raises a still-trembling hand to the crystal now embedded in the dead center of his chest — just where he'd been struck by one of vayne's many magicked blades. had it left something of itself behind in his flesh? had the blow been so strong as to send him elsewhere, far from the sky fortress' reach? what is happening? why is any of this happening?

though his legs still shake, gabranth slowly, steadily pushes himself up to his feet, leaning on another crystal formation for support as he goes. a cold draft suddenly bites at his damp flesh, and only then does he realize his nakedness — but he can't let himself be preoccupied by such a thing, not when there are too many questions burning inside him. he needs to find someone who knows what's going on, and he needs to do so as quickly as possible. ]

iii. waiting
[ it hasn't been easy, biding his time for so long as a prisoner in captivity, and that difficulty is evident in the purple bloom of healing bruises up the side of gabranth's face and along his jaw. still, all the better if his guards are lulled into thinking he's learned his lesson...for now.

he's careful in his exploration of the ruins, never straying suspiciously far out of sight as he gradually commits the space to memory; he marks well each pillar, each crumbling structure and the lines of sight they block, to what little he can glean of the woods surrounding them, to which path might afford the least obstruction on a blind run. he's careful — but he can't afford to be too careful, as he learns when he hears of a ritual space and can only wonder what might follow after.

so he bides his time, and keeps a keen eye and ear out for any potential allies. he waits by one of the ruin walls, leaning back against the weathered stone, eyes closed as though he might be napping, and waits for one of his fellow captives to draw near. ]


We haven't much time remaining, it would seem.

iv. wildcard
( got an idea for something else? feel free to hit me up at [plurk.com profile] futuristics so we can chat about it! )
semicharmed: (don't call me shirley)

iii

[personal profile] semicharmed 2022-02-14 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's okay that their captors are on the taciturn end. Matt needs the time to think. His existential dread spirals in reticulating layers, each new realization washing over him and ossifying onto the one before it like a--

Well--

Not unlike a crystal.

He remembers a dream that felt like communion, being one with the heart of all things, and he remembers a dream about fangs sinking into his throat. Then there was an island, and boats with sails like the wings of bright birds. Come to think, the lonely dream may have been the real one, because when he "woke up," term used loosely, there was a shard of crystal embedded in the side of his neck. The left side: V's favorite.

When he finds himself addressed, Matt starts, as if shocked from a train of thought. Which he was--at the moment, it's why did I survive when everyone else is dead. He'd thought he'd found a lonely little section of the stone formation to come and have a crisis, but clearly his observational skills need some work. He frowns at his companion, first in curiosity and then, noting the bruises on his face, in pained sympathy.

Cautiously, quietly, he says: ]


Are they going to kill us?

[ Matt's heard the talk of a ritual space too. In this context, it cannot possibly mean anything good. ]

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afewstraythoughts: (27)

Hythlodaeus | Final Fantasy XIV | The Martyr | Endwalker spoilers all up in hurr

[personal profile] afewstraythoughts 2022-02-13 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Dreams of Eld - Light
[At first, all Hythlodaeus knows is peace and light. He walks, as most others do, because there is simply nothing to do but go forward. There's no rush, no anxiety, nothing but the nostalgic feeling of being somewhere he is supposed to be. He walks for what feels like an eternity, knowing nothing but that blanketed peace and the light.

But then, there are other lights. Dim and bright, a myriad of different shapes and colors, flickering in and out of the light all around him until his eyes learn to focus anew and he can begin to see them a little clearer, can see the color of souls as they move along these paths of light, much like he is.

He sees, and he begins to remember, as well.

Fire in the skies, abominations born from magic and devouring their creators. Death and chaos, fear the likes of which his people have never felt. He has to wonder, as he walks along that path of light, if perhaps he was taken by the calamity that fell upon his people. If he had lost his life and returned to the world as aether, if this is the path that comes after souls make their journey into the Underworld. And if it is... what of his purpose? The very thing he devoted his entire being to, the safety and continued work of two people precious to him-- if he is here, should he be?

That thought is the first that gives him pause, has him stopping in his seemingly endless journey into the light, standing in the middle of a traveled path with a hand on his chin, frowning as he lets himself lapse into thought, something within him clawing almost desperately at that cloth wrapped around his mind and keeping him in this floating feeling of peace. He was not meant to leave the world without ensuring that Emet-Selch and Azem's purposes would also be completed, and if he retains this level of self, has he truly returned to aether? Or is this that "light at the end of the tunnel" that he needs to choose not to go into?

Someone bumps into him, another on this path of light, moving ever closer to the warmth of nostalgia at the end, and Hythlodaeus looks up, sees familiarity and kinship, and he smiles. He must have been meant to pause at that very moment, since he is sure he was meant to meet the person in front of him. What else could this feeling of nostalgia and belonging be?]


Apologies, my friend. I suppose I should have moved to the side of the path, rather than simply lapsing into thought in the center.

II. Awakening
[It takes Hythlodaeus a long, long time to come to. The quiet of his dreams, the familiarity within the light-- it proved almost too welcoming to truly leave. But slowly and surely, he finds consciousness returning, awareness of the strange restriction around his body, the way he can both breathe and not breathe all at once, the way he feels as if every inch of him is being held firmly in place without the strength to even tense his muscles in order to break free...

He may be moderately used to being more helpless than his peers, but never has he felt this weak.

It takes time and a fair bit of effort, but eventually the tensing of his muscles gives way to the faintest hint of movement. A wiggle, a lift, the space around him becoming more and more bit by bit until he has enough room to shift his body just slightly, just enough to be able to push from his feet and thrust forward with his hands, the shell around him cracking slowly and steadily until his hand breaches through.

From there, it's slow but steady progression, the break increasing until he can get his other hand up into the gap, prying at the crystal encasing him until he can manage to get his head free, taking in fresh air in nearly desperate gasps. He works until he is able to free himself enough to stand within his strange prison, sliding his hands carefully through his hair to squeeze out the moisture covering him from head to toe, looking around at others who are at the stage he is, to those who have already pried themselves free, and those whose prisons are still and soundless, or those who have even the faintest of cracks on the surface.

Finally, his eyes fall on the person nearest to him, one hand waving in exhausted greeting as he does his best at giving a gentle smile.]


Hello, there. You wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?

III. Respite
[Hythlodaeus doesn't consider himself an overly suspicious person, but oohhhhh what's happening to them is really testing the boundary between curious observer and untrusting skeptic. Waking up in an unknown world? Curious. People coming out of nowhere and rounding them up? Not unheard of in the world outside of Amaurot, so... curious. Being marched on and gathered with more groups of people in some ruins with the whisper of the word ritual in the air?

Well, that's where he has to draw the line.

Not that there's really anything for him to do, for now. He's managed to avoid further restrictions by playing along and being pleasant. He's kept his tongue in check and done his best to follow orders, watching and observing and learning all he can about their captors and their intentions. Sadly, he hasn't gathered much.

Which is what brings him to his current situation, sitting on his thin bedroll tucked as far behind a pillar as he can be - the closest he could find to privacy. Well, as much privacy as an abnormally tall, pink haired man can really get.]


Hmmm... [Hythlodaeus lets his voice escape him, aware of those around him, but not specifically calling anyone in particular out.] What to do, what to do....

IV. Free For All
[Want something different? Have a cool idea? Go ahead with it!]

[ooc| action-spam and prose both welcome! i'm brushing off the rp dust, so i might be a bit on the slow side. feel free to DM or message me [plurk.com profile] speedstering with any questions!]
Edited 2022-02-13 23:21 (UTC)
brutallyefficient: (The Cold)

2

[personal profile] brutallyefficient 2022-02-14 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's strange to feel weak for someone who has never felt fatigued before. Limbs are heavy and they barely respond to his will to move them. It takes some genuine effort to look up to the person that has emerged next to him.

Connor shakes his head. ]


I'm sorry. I'm not sure.

[ He looks up and around to get what clues he can from their surrounding area. Large geodes of varying color, a cave of some kind, definitely not in any city he's been to. ]

It's some kind of cave. If I could look around I would be able to provide you with more information.

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coupris: (take me away everyone)

Kim Kitsuragi | Disco Elysium | The Martyr

[personal profile] coupris 2022-02-13 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
I. REBIRTH

[Kim really thought Revachol had more time.

Not much, certainly, with its collapsing infrastructure and economic shambles, even while on life support from the Moralintern. Still, he'd hoped to allay that end as long as possible, or to at least stand in tacit defiance of it. To protect Revachol's people from the worst of it, somehow. He'd promised himself to make it to seventy, as little influence on that outcome as he might actually have. His willpower accomplished more than he thought it would already.

Now, though, standing at what looks like the edge of the universe, he can only fall to his knees in awe, pushed forward by the deep sense of loss settling in his chest. Not just Revachol-- everything. Was it the Pale, suddenly advancing? He'd expected a fiery end, nuclear, more than likely, in the repetition of past revolutionary mistakes. The cosmic spectrum above him, though, looks like neither. It's too beautiful to be the end, to take the lives and dreams of billions and shatter them into crystalline nothing.

A voice slips into his ear, faint, but familiar enough to jolt him back to his feet. It's the voice he would pretend not to hear on the wind when standing near the sea, the voice Harry told him isn't him, a woman, a concept-- La Revacholiere.

Kim stares down the two paths, the weight of grief in his chest magnetizing to the dark, but she says again what he pretended not to hear in the abandoned Martinaise church:

Stay vigilant. I love you.

He steps towards the light. Her voice is soon joined by others as space and the darkness fade away. Harry, the people of Martinaise, his comrades in the RCM both alive and dead, and the smallest sounds of what he knows in his heart are his mother and father, the whole history of the Insulinde beckons him to finally lower his guard and rest. Kim doesn't realize that he's no longer walking, as much as floating through light, as tears well up in his eyes. Everyone seems to reach out with one hand, and just as he reaches for it, brushes its fingertips, another, cold and giant, wraps around him like a vise. The voices go silent, and Kim replaces them with a strangled yell of despair as something drags him away.

The scream is still in his lungs when he awakens, but his mouth won't open to release it. White hot panic spreads across Kim's body as he twitches every muscle, only to be met with rock solid resistance.

Somehow, he could still breathe through his nose, and with that scrap of a chance, Kim starts to struggle. Bit by bit, the pressure around him starts to shift, until his arms are able to push away whatever is around him. With more space to move, he can better reach forward, though it takes a mind numbing amount of time until his palms brace against a smooth surface. It doesn't seem as malleable as whatever he dug through so far, and Kim claws at it in desperation. It splinters between his fingers, then finally gives way to what feels like cool, open air.

His arms are already exhausted, but Kim blindly beats and tears until more of the smooth surface starts to collapse. He can just hear the dull sound of what could be glass shattering, followed by a sudden rush in his ears as the pressure as everything above his waist spills out of the hole he's created. He gasps as his senses are returned all at once, trying to regain some of his strength so he can pull his legs free.

It's a quicker process with his hands free, but the silence around him makes it just as torturous, until he slips out of crystal and falls to the cold, hard ground. Without his glasses, anything more than a foot from his face is a blur of vague shapes, though a milky beam of light catches his attention. He tries to at least crawl forward, but the exertion of escaping the crystal causes him to sink back into a heap after moving more than a few steps. His chest heaves, but he still manages to tense up at the sound of anything moving nearby.]


Who's there?

II. WAITING

[Kim had fought like a starving, stray cat when the military arrived-- which he only recognized by the sound of their boots. Once the whip wraps around his neck, however, he knows he was in deeper shit than he first imagined. Though he considers biding his time for a later escape once he's wrapped in a robe and thrown into a cart, the sheer number of other of both troops and captives gives him greater pause. Rash actions were out of the question if they would endanger others.

As the journey goes on, he still can't make out much of anything without his glasses. When he stumbles or goes in the wrong direction, the overseers merely jeer at him or push him back where he needs to go. Kim holds his stoic front as valiantly as he can, but these were the depths of humiliation-- the sort of thing he had nightmares about as a child.

That orphan's resilience, however, allows him to share his rations with those who clearly need it more, and to lend a sympathetic ear to anyone else nearby. When they reach the edge of the forest, Kim looks out at the vast, blur of green, any admirable details completely lost on him. As others marvel at the ruins, Kim just squints.]


Quite the view.

III. WILDCARD

(Hit me up with whatever you'd like, or PM me if you want to hash something out!)
Edited 2022-02-13 23:23 (UTC)
epiprocta: (58)

ii

[personal profile] epiprocta 2022-02-14 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ He'd been staring out into the darkness of the woods, nursing his own bruises from tousling with the guards yet again, but Gen glances over the moment he hears footsteps approaching. And while Kim almost certainly can't see the reaction he elicits, he might be able to feel the quiet stare that fixes on him, so unsubtle that it prickles at the skin.

It's not like Gen's been keeping meticulous track of the other people in this miserable encampment, but Kim had left a bit of an impression on him that day they'd been dragged out of the cave. Not many others fought as ferociously as this guy did, after all, and Gen had held a very slight, grudging respect for that level of tenacity. And while it did mean he'd been disappointed to see the guy go quiet afterwards ... well, whatever. Figures most people here give up eventually. ]


Fat load of nothing is what it is.

[ Gen finally breaks his stare to give that muttered response, trying to see what's so great about the darkness of the forest. It's just trees. ]

You never seen a forest before?

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hippocarnival: (✮ 160 ✮)

Yuya Sakaki | Yugioh Arc-V | The Lover

[personal profile] hippocarnival 2022-02-13 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Rebirth | The Lover]

Oof!

[Yuya hits the ground gracelessly as his crystal finally cracks, his eyes fluttering open to stare dully at the space beside him. Everything is... a little overwhelming, so at first he stays flat to the ground as his senses attune themselves to the world around him. There's rock, crystal... a cave? Just where is he?

He works his arms under him so he can push himself to sit. The fragments of crystal press into his skin under him, so he jerks one hand up and shakes it to dislodge fragments. With the back of his hand he tries to brush away the gem stuck to his chest only--it doesn't move.

He looks down, fingers pressing around the edges. And then he yelps.]
Aah! It's stuck in me!

[Help, he's been stabbed!!]

[Waiting]

[As more people are gathered up and carted away, Yuya withdraws further from those that have gathered them up. Everything about this makes him uneasy, like they're being rounded for slaughter... or worse. He watches others who fight back, and how fruitless the effort it, so instead he stays small and quiet so as few of the soldiers will pay attention to him as possible.

While he gives the guards a wide berth, he doesn't regard fellow captives with the same trepidation. Perhaps it's someone who had earn the ire of the guard and ended up hurt for it, or someone who's face can't hide their fear, or just someone who seems to be sitting alone, like an isolated pillar in the ground. Whatever it is, he scoots closer to them during moments of respite.]


Uh... hi. [He purses his lips, at a loss to say despite being the one to approach. It's not like he can start with the usual small talk like 'how are you', or 'nice weather today, isn't it?'

It's an awkward minute before he points to himself.]
I'm Yuya. I just woke up here.
sweetsong: do not take any. ty. (105)

waiting

[personal profile] sweetsong 2022-02-14 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's been easy to keep away from others at first; as more and more people are placed in the same moving vehicle, robin could also slink away and keep his knees pressed against his chest and curl into himkself. not out of fear, not out of concern for his own well-being, but because... he simply has nothing that he wants to say. no faces or voices are familiar. his heart has been aching the entire time.

so it's a welcome surprise to be approached by someone who isn't a guard, someone who's willing to even speak to him. even if at first his expression is soft and his stare at yuya is apprehensive.

with all the strength he has, he reaches out--- grabs ahold of yuya's shoulders, and tries to pull him into a hug. ]

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lifespanned: (pic#15470493)

misa amane | death note | the lover

[personal profile] lifespanned 2022-02-14 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
REBIRTH (THE LOVER)
I.
[ After gathering her bearings and realizing she's completely naked, helpless, and cold in a strange cave, Misa's taken every opportunity to try to find things to defend herself with. Which, all things considered, isn't much— the cave is bare, and she feels sluggish and weak on top of it.

What's worse: someone (or something??) starts hatching just as she had from one of the otherworldly crystals that litter this cave. With one of the last bits of her energy, she chucks a nicely sized rock that she found on the ground right at the forehead of the person emerging from the crystal (that's you!). ]


I'm... I'm warning you! Don't come out!!
WAITING
II.
[ Once most of the captured prisoners from the other shrines begin to converge at the beginnings of the ruins, it's clear that someone isn't having a good time. Not used to physically laboring (read: walking long distances), nor not getting her way, Misa's patience for being a good prisoner has just about run out. Earlier on in their trek, she'd genuinely been too scared to do anything like try to escape or lash out - now that it's been days, though? She becomes very "I need to speak with the manager" with the guards. ]

Are you listening?

[ Her shrill, obviously irate voice trills quite clearly above the general silence of everyone else walking in her small group to their campsite. ]

I'm asking how long we're supposed to be here!

[ The guards clearly have no intentions of responding to her, to which she only becomes more petulantly, more demanding. ]

Heeey! Stop ignoring us!! We're talking right at you, dummy!!

[ That's right, she's dragging you right into this. The guard in front of you and her turns around, about to retaliate if she keeps it up. ]

III.
[ Seeing as she hasn't been the most cooperative prisoner in the last leg of the journey, it's no wonder that she's basically been barred from leaving to go see the ruins. You know, for now. That is, until she spots an opportunity to leave: via hugging the arm of a stranger who looks like they've been on their best behavior. Even if she startles you - she doesn't let go, clinging quite like a vice. ]

It's okay if I go with you, right? They won't let me go by myself... I promise I won't get in your way.

[ Cue the big ol' doe eyes... she's putting on her best pretty-please face! ]

IV.
[ Guess who got their rations taken away by being annoying on the trip here: this gal. It does look like after enough punishment she's decided to fall in line, though not without a cross of her arms and an occasional sniffle. This is all just horrible! Treating someone as delicate as her so harshly... it's enough to make her shed a tear.

Almost. Rationless and simply sitting near the fire to stay warm, she decides to strike up conversation regardless, blinking away any semblance of distress over her current predicament. ]


Is that any good? [ She scoots a little closer to you, seeming simply curious. All things considered, she seems quite peppy despite the circumstances - whether she's putting on a brave face or has just accepted the situation for what it is remains to be seen. ] Or is it like sand?
Edited 2022-02-14 01:08 (UTC)
lockedon: (pic#14244915)

ii.

[personal profile] lockedon 2022-02-14 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gods.

Bad enough that there's outside influence pushing him along and taking control of his body whenever he so much as thinks of going against orders. Bad enough that he's essentially naked, gooseflesh prickling over the surface of his skin where the fabric of his simple white gown fails to cover his body. Now he has to listen to some little girl scream her head off, all because she's being ignored.

He should feel a little pity for her, and he does, but mostly, he just feels a deep-rooted annoyance.

The guard pins them both with cold stare and he reflexively slaps one hand over Misa's mouth. ]


I'll handle her.

[ Carefully, he pushes her forward with his other hand, increasing the pace until they've put some distance between themselves and the guard. It's then that he finally lets his hands drop. Hopefully she hasn't taken a bite out of all of them. ]

Keep your voice down unless you want to be thrown off the nearest ledge.

[ Which, who knows, maybe she'd find that a better fate. ]

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demoon: (Default)

Guren Ichinose ❁ Seraph of the End ❁ Firebrand

[personal profile] demoon 2022-02-14 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
I. ʀᴇʙɪʀᴛʜ
    [It takes time to adjust after he's fallen to the floor. Crystal shattered around him, he's left with only memories of a dark dream that he's not sure how to take. The feeling of a lost world... It's not so foreign as it should be. As weak as he is, all of his energy goes into standing. With a stumble, he catches himself on the wall closest to him and his gaze rises up to the assortment of other crystals.

    Some of them are large, like his own. Some of them have masses moving from within them, faintly visible from where he stands now. It's difficult to reach them, but that seems to be his goal now. Tiredly, he moves, grasping at chunks of broken crystals on the ground and chucking them up at the still-trapped members. If one falls before him, he reaches to offer a helping hand to the person who emerges from it.

    It's not much. He realizes this. But at the very least, if anyone can wake up in this strange place and not be alone... It might just help. Even if he doesn't have the friendliest face, and even if his actions might knock someone a little rougher off course on their path to the floor of the cave... It's still a little nice, right?]


    Come on, get up. [Again, his speech is rough, but his eyes are soft enough. He's trying to help.]


II. ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ
    [Guren's silence might be mistaken for compliance. He's moving along with the ones who have captured him and others, keeping quiet and taking in the sights as they move. He's incredibly... quiet.

    Even as he watches someone else get wrangled in right in front of him. The most he offers as it comes to an end is a word of advice:]


    You should probably save your energy.

    [Hi.]


III. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
    [Of course, I am open to just about anything!! Feel free to PM me if you want to talk out ideas. I couldn't come up with the best top levels but I'd be happy to start personal starters for anyone who wants to talk it out. Or, assume anything reasonable.]
sweetsong: do not take any. ty. (120)

i

[personal profile] sweetsong 2022-02-14 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
Do I have to...?

[ he's more or less given up on trying to move; practically a boneless boy, lying still on the ground. it's a little cold but hey, it could be worse? actually it's pretty bad what with the pieces of shards stuck in his body--- one of them certainly deeper than the others.

as he turns his head to look up at guren, robin narrows his eyes. ]


Who're you? [ a moment as robin looks around. ] Oh. Wait. Where's...

[ where's pannya... ]

sweet boy

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skirka: (d.)

cersei lannister | a song of ice and fire | the sovereign

[personal profile] skirka 2022-02-14 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
—rebirth

[ There is a scream in her throat - there has been, ever since she'd watched that black-velvet sky crumple and crush its diamonds to dust, collapsing on top of her. Or did it collapse around her, like water, leaving her standing? She isn't dead, she discovers, with a distinct lack of appreciation: if she were dead, she would be returned at this moment to her children, for they are dead, too. She'd felt it, hadn't she? When that gulf of darkness had swum up to meet her? Every memory chipped into a piece of flint, and driven into the frightened meat of her heart. She is frightened, for a moment, and only because she does not know by what means her children have been killed. Yet it had always come to this. She has lived no day that it hasn't been her first waking thought. That crone in the woods had told her so, had laid upon her the curse that crowds now into those waking thoughts - every discarding glance she'd received, every scoff, every measuring eye which had decided she would not rule. All of them gone, dead, and if her children must be dead, then there is some last glint of satisfaction in knowing all the world went with them.

That gloating is brief, and swallowed again by sorrow, and sorrow sends her into a fury. But her scream is mute, and she is trapped, drowning, treading a thick and choking sea made of honey. It cannot be a sea, for she is compressed in against herself, and only slowly reaching through that viscous prison. It melts gradually beneath her claws, tears like poor silk, and out she steps, shivering against the uninvited kiss of cool air against her skin.

Naked skin - she does not need to sweep her gaze down to find that she is wearing nothing. Gold hair whisks against the small of her back as she turns her head, at once more concerned with who may or may not be witnessing her this way than how it has come to pass. And there is someone, an unfortunate soul who seems to have stumbled into this cavern just as unwittingly as she has, and it is upon this stranger that she turns her rage, fangs bared, as if this nightmare is her personal domain. ]


What do you think you're doing here?


—in the woods somewhere

[ Two separate groups have arrived, and she recognizes neither one. One contingent seems to her almost Northern - by the rugged look of them, they hail from the mountains, or at least from some far-flung wasteland that she cares nothing for. The other is clearly from a notable city, though which, she cannot say: they are armored and disciplined, but wear no sigil that she knows. The distinction does not trouble her overmuch, because the insult they bring to bear against her is the same - they have come to take her captive. The groomed soldiers are not, then, from the capital; if they were kingsmen, they would not treat her so.

They are, to her mounting annoyance, entirely ignorant of who she is. They handle her as if she were no better than a common criminal, of no mentionable title; she is taken into custody as if she were a peasant. Her protests, she abruptly discovers, are met only with reprimands of waning patience. They don't hear her, they don't care, and she is shuffled along like chattel. Dressed in white, like a lamb for sacrifice, which only kindles resentful memories of earlier days when she was traded from one hand to another like an animal.

And they - for there are others, no matter how insignificant they are to her are present - are made to walk without the benefit of any footwear, though of course she should be carried, whether on a horse on in a wheelhouse. Not one of these fools seems to recognize her. This is the most dreadful realization of all; if there is no one to recognize her, who is there to protect her? Because her initial refusals and defiances were met only with the cruelty of whips, she takes instead to an indignant silence. Whomever they come to - whichever lord's keep - she will seek true justice from then.

The waiting is a marvelously effective torture, more so than any lash of those impudent whips. Her prowling is contained by the guards and the ruins themselves, but she must have something to barter with. If she has on her person no wealth of any mention, then she will trade in words. Secrets and knowledge. A defender with a sword would be better, but this will have to do.

So when she overhears talk of a 'ritual space,' her heart leaps like a startled deer in her chest, just as it did in the witch's woods so long ago. Ritual, prophecy - these are dangerous words. She edges closer, despising her plain white robe, which can hardly be put to her advantage. ]


Do you know what this place this?


—wildcard

[ hit me with anything! pm if you'd rather chat in advance c: ]
coerthantorment: (14)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-14 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
[Estinien is a prisoner whom Cersei has probably seen have his face shoved in the dirt at least once since their traveling parties made it to the forest. Their escorts clearly despise him, and the marks of it are left on his face - a blackened eye, a bloodied nose, and his wrists bound in front of him. Though he has the body of a warrior and is loomingly tall, he has clearly seen betters days, as he slumps against a bit of stone ruin.

He casts a darkened eye to her, his voice soft as he responds. There is anger within him, but it is burning low and hot like coals.]


Nay. But talk of rituals surprises me little... the men that first captured me claimed they were there to take our souls.

[He's not sure how literal they were being, but... you know.]

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devilmancrybaby: <user name=meltesh28 site=tumblr.com> ((la la lovey dove))

LUO BINGHE | THE SCUM VILLAIN'S SELF-SAVING SYSTEM | FIREBRAND

[personal profile] devilmancrybaby 2022-02-14 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
CAPTIVITY:
Luo Binghe has not been this helpless in years.

It was one thing to play nice among the disciples of Huan Hua Palace, when he had a clear goal in mind and, when the resentment boiling under his skin became almost too much to bear, he could console himself with the knowledge that, if he chose to, he could destroy any of the cultivators around him, easily.

He tries to fight back at first, assuming the same must be true here, but when it becomes clear that his demonic and spiritual qi alike have been deadened completely and he is as defenseless as he was as a child, he kind of shuts down. He stumbles along in hollow compliance as he's handed off to the soldiers.

Here, in the cargo hold of the boat, he's sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, head down. He keeps touching the stone embedded in his sternum through the fabric of the robe he's been given. When someone is pushed down opposite him, he looks up to stare fixedly at them with dark eyes.

"You came out of the crystal too," he says quietly. It's not really a question, but there's a beat before he says, "Do you think they're all dead?"

Everyone else, he means. From those worlds that seemed extinguished. It's not clear if he's seeking reassurance or not.


WAITING:
By the time his group are brought to the ruins, Luo Binghe has perked up a little. Internally, he's resolved that one way or another he will seize back the power he's earned. He's started privately cataloguing the faces of the soldiers who have been particularly brusque with him, so that if he encounters them later, he can return the favour, but for now, he needs to bide his time, and make sure they don't consider him a threat. Play the pig to eat the tiger. He's good at that.

In the meantime... he needs to know more about this place, and it won't do him any good to keep to himself, no matter how much he wants to.

He tries to keep himself in good spirits, or as good as can be reasonably expected given the situation; he manages a tired smile at the nearest of his fellow captives.

"I've never seen markings like this before," he says. "Have you? Do you think they might be some kind of writing?"


WILDCARD:
I'm up for whatever, feel free to hit me with something else if you want :> Brackets & prose are both fine, I'll match formats! PM me or drop me a line at [plurk.com profile] ormery if you wanna work something specific out.
coerthantorment: (20)

captivity

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-14 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
This man might be the first one to say it so explicitly. In sharp contrast, Estinien has been fighting tooth and nail every step of the way - at least as much as the whip's magical binds would allow - but he seems no less devasted by his loss of power and control. He feels it acutely, the lack of strength in his body, the lack of the weapon at his side. Even Nidhogg's aether has fallen silent.

Yet no silence cuts as deeply as the one that came after he felt it all fade away in that vision of his. To hear someone else speak of it bring it sharply back into focus, as if the passing of time since waking has dulled it not at all.

He can't process this. It's not possible.

"They can't be," he says through gritted teeth, more for himself than Binghe. All the same, his heart aches in his chest.

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