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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.

theorems: (pic#15370138)

[personal profile] theorems 2022-02-17 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
[Don't put this on him, he's a theoretical physicist, not a- oh, maybe this is up his alley.]

I agree- not Runeterra, but then how? I had... a vision. It felt like Runeterra had been destroyed. Impossible.

We don't know enough.

[He's leaning his forehead against his palm now, running his fingers through his hair.]
giantanimal: (delighted)

[personal profile] giantanimal 2022-02-17 05:19 am (UTC)(link)
Of course I'll walk with you. [His own honor would hardly allow him to do anything else. He just wished he had a cloak he could give her.

He offers her an arm.]


And how do you intend to make it worth my while?

[He won't accept payment. But he is curious. And a little amused. He enjoys being king. He's good at it. But there's a certain thrill to being thought a common soldier. He can't resist seeing where it goes.]
semicharmed: (talking shop)

[personal profile] semicharmed 2022-02-17 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ Matt feels absurdly pleased to have made her laugh. To make somebody, anybody happy in this place, no matter how grim or how fleeting that joy may be--it's good. Makes him feel like he's not losing his mind for two seconds. ]

Oh, hell, don't give these people the benefit of the doubt, [ he says amiably. ] At this point, it's just as rational to imagine they're incompetent as it is that they're sinister geniuses and everything's going according to plan.

[ One shoulder lifts in a knife-slight shrug. ]

I did hear something about a "ritual space," though. So either that's here, and they do still need to make preparations, or it's elsewhere and there's something stopping them from just taking us.
salvageable: (pic#15423498)

[personal profile] salvageable 2022-02-17 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ Thinking back on the dream isn't pleasant. That feeling of his entire world being destroyed still wears at his mind, chips away at it in bits and pieces despite Dokja's best attempts to pass it off as a petty trick.

No. He has to believe. That world... it's not something that can crumble so easily. ]


It's hard to imagine that they aren't interconnected.

[ The dream, the chrysalis, that shrine, this gathering of others... ]

Why else would we all have shared the same sort of dream?
superbshot: (Reformer)

[personal profile] superbshot 2022-02-17 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
We don't. We only have suppositions.

[Pushing peas around her tray with her fork, she looks down at them sullenly. Tapping it twice, she skewers a stewed carrot and sighs.]

It's magic. It has to be. That's the only thing I can even think of that'd be capable of destroying a planet. Like during the Rune Wars.
salvageable: (pic#15344886)

[personal profile] salvageable 2022-02-17 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ Stab him with literally what, Seonho's the one with the ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■.

Also, what's with Dokja and being drawn to all the grumps in the neighborhood? Is that like his new thing? Is that his character type now?

Before this gets too meta, Dokja huffs out a dry laugh, eyes shifting over to the guards now following after them before he glances up at his new hiking buddy. ]


What, are your feet sore?

[ Provoking other people is in his blood, don't mind it too much. ]

And if being strangers bothers you, why don't we fix that? I'm Kim Dokja.
solitudehunter: (Don't believe in that shit)

[personal profile] solitudehunter 2022-02-17 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
Hallucinations, coma. Either are not ideal.

[But he waves away that topic. No sense of arguing even if this is reality rather than his brain spinning. Still, Rovan remains aloof if not casual about their impending doom:]

Who knows, the odds may be in our favor when it comes to numbers. Picking off people doesn't seem very ritual-like...not that'd I know. Magic isn't exactly a thing where I'm from. Just stuff from old fiction books.
passio: (pic#12166659)

[personal profile] passio 2022-02-17 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ dextera nods. there’s no way to mime the darkness or the emptiness that the alternate path brought him—it has been familiar in all the worst ways, and he thinks only someone who has experienced it for themselves would be able to innately understand it. ]



[ he motions for them to sit together, at least, like being on the floor will help them process it. ]
salvageable: (pic#15423505)

[personal profile] salvageable 2022-02-17 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dokja... making a move... He's literally just a guy.

And if Eustace wants to ponder on whether or not Dokja cares about the well-being of the person still trapped inside their chrysalis, here's the answer: ]


Yeah, they could be.

[ His tone is a little too nonchalant as he runs his fingers over the intact crystal, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown. It's not so dissimilar from the meteorites from back home, though it doesn't invoke the same sort of dread. ]

They look like the disasters of my world. They'd hatch returnees—er, people who traveled to different worlds only to return much later to their homes...

[ He lets the rest of the sentence trail off. But this isn't their home, they're not returning from anywhere. Dokja hesitates for a beat longer than necessary, his eyes shaking as another thought comes to him. ]

But they didn't all hatch disasters.

[personal profile] velvetoversteel 2022-02-17 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
Are you always so dismissive of things you don't understand?

[ The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills -- a common saying among Aes Sedai, and one Moiraine herself tends to rely upon. If they are here, it is because they are intended to be. Threads in the Pattern.

Yet it will do no good trying to explain that to this stubborn man. Moiraine can feel a headache building right between her eyes, from the stress of the moment -- and really, the stress of the last two weeks. She rubs the bridge of her nose briefly, then sighs and lets her hand drop. Arguing over this will get them nowhere. ]


I would much rather believe there is a purpose to all of this than that we are victims of random happenstance.

[ To her, it's a fact. He can believe as he likes. ]
salvageable: (pic#15332055)

[personal profile] salvageable 2022-02-17 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ah, if only he had an interpreter skill or something... Well, it's not like he's got any skills to begin with which is still incredibly unnerving for him.

He sits as instructed, cross-legged at first before he changes his mind and opts to draw his knees to his chest. You know, for modesty's sake? ]


... It would be nice if one of the crystals could hatch out some clothes for us.
coerthantorment: (21)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-17 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
[Estinien squirms on the ground, trying to resist the control of the whip, but he's spent. The magic of his bonds makes it impossible for him to get off the ground, the weight of the soldier's will seeming to press down on him, impossible to shift. The helplessness is hard to bear - he recognizes the look in Amos's eyes, just as he did in the eyes of so many refugees and the enslaved peoples of the Empire.

In the past, he had been one of the few that could afford to agitate for the greater good, blessed with the power and skills to do so. But what can he do now? If he doesn't act, doesn't do something to save himself and the others, then who will?

He keeps straining, keeping fighting, until eventually one of the soldiers strolls over and kicks him in the gut. He's gruffly told to stop causing a fuss, and for a moment, he obliges. He's too busy gasping for air to do much else.

A while later, after the immediate heat has abated, he looks to Amos again with desperation in his eyes.]


Something... Something has happened. To us, to Etheirys... we cannot simply...

[He wheezes, at a loss for words. He doesn't even know why he's talking to this guy. Maybe just because he's there. For once Estinien reflexively feels the desire to reach out to another human being, searching for the comradery he'd almost gotten used to, but that had abruptly been taken away.]

Did you not feel it?
Edited 2022-02-17 06:25 (UTC)
coerthantorment: (120)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-17 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
Estinien nods his head slightly, accepting Yuya's name and trying to commit it to memory. He's not the best at remembering people, but the boy's strange appearance should stick with him, he thinks, as well as his kindness.

Having done what he can for the moment, Estinien will fall into silence, curling his legs towards himself in some futile effort to find warmth.
coerthantorment: (13)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-17 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
Estinien lifts his shoulders into a shrug. He'll go quiet for a while, provided Jensen has nothing else to say, but ultimately there is nowhere for them to go and little to occupy themselves with besides idle speculation.

"This land is not unlike my own," he says, eventually. "I could have mistaken them for each other, were it not for the presence of others like you."
coerthantorment: (75)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-02-17 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
Estinien doesn't seem particularly bothered by Binghe challenging his beliefs, shrugging his shoulders with a flat expression.

"The beauty of you keeping your own counsel," he says.
passio: (pic#12181653)

[personal profile] passio 2022-02-17 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
…!

[ despite the very depressing image he was sitting with just now, the stray comment earns a brief twitch of the shoulders and a soft exhale from his nose. a laugh, or something close to it.

he nods in agreement, though dextera is less worried about modesty and more worried about his scar. ]
affal: (72)

[personal profile] affal 2022-02-17 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
( they're not so easily unearthed, these infestations of divinity and devilry. they might have been pulled from the two of them, but their roots still wind in-between their bones, keeping them a breath removed from what they might have once been. the demon known as "M" is so far removed from the high school boy that he had once been that he can't even contemplate such a return; it's almost as though that young man really did die at the hands of the demon he had summoned, and it had only been through a series of misfortunes that M came to take his place.

when it comes to all the questions that makoto could needle and pry at this stranger with, asking for his name is one of the easiest. not that it wasn't important — a demon from his version of hell learned in their first few days the huge power that a name could hold — but it was at least usually easy to answer. he watches the man's forehead crease, and one of his brows arches in response. at first he writes it off that it was just troublesome to write out instead of speak aloud, but it's in observing the storm cloud that settles over his expression as he scratches it into the dirt that makoto begins to get the feeling that's not the full truth.

interesting. )


That was supposed to be the easiest question I ask you, you know.

( he doesn't push him any more than that, but he does let him know he'd noticed, slipping it into his pocket for later puzzling.

he tilts his head so he can read the name. he tests it out, the syllables lilting on his stolen tongue: )
Dextera-san...

( he acknowledges the reflection of the question by reaching out and jabbing a forefinger into the dirt, slashing four sharp, connecting lines through the middle of where he had signed his name, forming a single letter. when he finishes, he looks up to fix dextera in a sharp-toothed smile. )

You may call me M.
affal: (29)

[personal profile] affal 2022-02-17 07:18 am (UTC)(link)
( if someone feels a vague and nagging sense of unease when speaking with makoto, it only means they're sane — or, at the very least, have good instincts.

some have brushed off his questions or merely given him the shortest and most brusque (read: uninteresting) of answers, so when the silver-haired man seems to think so deeply on it, makoto decides to settle in to wait to see what the outcome may be, head canted slightly to one side and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

ah, but he's a livelier one than so many of their fellow dour captives. it's a welcome change of pace. the demon plays off of the energy, similarly leaning to listen in on the priest as he lowers his voice to a more conspiratorial tone, setting the guards in their mutual gaze. where some might recoil from their personal space being invaded, makoto doesn't seem to mind a bit. instead he seems purely rapt in his attention to the stranger's reply, though by the end his smile has taken more firmly taken place and a few light chuckles are shaking his shoulders. )


I can't say I have. Though such colorful options for human sacrifice would certainly make for an exciting and unique end to all of our lives.

( said so blithely, so cheerily... )

Another question then, sir, if you wouldn't mind: for what reason do you think they've gone to such lengths to gather us all us like this, if what you've suggested is their final ends?
affal: (34)

[personal profile] affal 2022-02-17 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
You say that now, but once you're devoid my company...?

( said in the slightly huffy way one might if they are accustomed to their company being highly valued. which makoto is, by the way. as much as his enemies were beginning to multiply in hell, there were much and many more who would spend a great deal of gold for his company (though in a very different context than what they were doing right now).

regardless, guren would do best to let him careen to his death, if what he'd described came to pass. makoto would probably prefer it that way.

and maybe more time spent with him will strip him of whatever desire he might have to preserve his life...

he twinges at the reply. )
And you are annoyingly stoic for someone who just hatched nude out of a crystal in some cave, only to get abducted by a foreign army! ( kind of suss, ngl... )
passio: (pic#12160604)

[personal profile] passio 2022-02-17 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ it isn’t as if he needs a name, where he’s from. no one is lucky enough for it to mean anything—they’re all designated by their baroques instead, and in dextera’s case, his anonymity has taken layers according to all the people who need something from him.

but everyone has to be called something, and this is what he has to offer. his mouth twists like he’s going to say something to defend himself, but his voiceless throat tightens and he has no choice but to look down at the reply in the earth. the same method, mirrored back at him, placed like ownership.

he draws an unhappy breath and curls his fingers around the opposite wrist. ]




[ then, he fully turns his head to makoto, finally allowing himself to take in this mysterious stranger instead of observing him from the periphery with fleeting glances. his eyes, his smile, even his posture—it all indicates distortion, and dextera has his questions too about what it all amounts to.

he stares as long as he’s allowed, until some satisfactory answer comes to him and he looks back down at their names.

‘M.’ it carries its own implications. ]
affal: (1)

[personal profile] affal 2022-02-17 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
( come now, gen. it's only a little blood.

only the seam which forms in the parting of skin — the sensations of subcutaneous layers of fat, of ruptured blood vessels still thrumming with pulse, of taut sheets and strings of muscle. each and every human being is made of the same, even if it was rare enough that it was forced so abruptly to the surface of one's awareness. as for makoto, he doesn't seem to care in the slightest that a rivulet of bright blood was running down the pale sweep of his neck and beneath the hem of the white robe he had been given. so what if it did? he will not be wearing this stupid thing forever — either circumstances will change and he will be able to find some real clothes, or they will all imminently perish. until then, the scarlet bloom of blood staining the fabric is something he would wear with pride.

he expects the consequences, both positive and negative, of each and every thing he does. he knows there's only so much he can push this human before he breaks rather than bends — it's just finding where that line lies. his search didn't go on very long. there's precious little makoto can do in this situation to minimize damage, but he recoils as best he can at the sharp and sudden movement; even still, there's a sharp hiss of pain through his teeth as several more of the stitches are disturbed, either loosened or altogether ruined. it wouldn't be that much of a concern if he had his effects on him. without needle and thread, he wouldn't be able to appropriately fix this issue. until he could, it would only scab and ache.

a calculated risk. recovering from the snap of pain that the withdrawal had caused, he reassumes his serpentine smile, balling the long end of one sleeve of his robe so he can press it to the seeping wound. he doesn't take his eyes off of gen's face, even as the other teenager wipes his hand off on the front of his own robe.

no fun. but, then again, he's already gotten more surprise and enjoyment out of him than he expected at this point, so he decides to give up the ghost of the charade for now. he doesn't think there's anything he loses from sharing at least some information, though full and comprehensive pictures were things that makoto jealously kept for himself.

the other boy is kind enough to let him go. makoto gingerly recovers his composure, not wanting to further traumatize the stitches; one of his hands presses the sleeve to his neck and the other combs his fingers through his hair to rectify whatever dishevelment gen had inflicted before sweeping it over his shoulders and away from the blood. he keeps his silence, instead watchful as he observes the way the stranger ruminates over his bloodied hand for a long moment before speaking up once more.

for a moment, it seems he might keep his secrets. then, seemingly apropos of nothing, )
Demon. That's your correct answer. ( he takes a breath, ) And this, ( his eyes flick downwards then, toward his throat, ) means I wasn't always one.

( he surveys the guards appraisingly; one might think he was seriously considering it, but, really, he has no affinity for the pain that comes along with this, but arguing would be lying — especially given the last reason he'd had for having to re-affix the stitches around his neck. not that he was above lying, of course, but only when it had a positive outcome for him. instead he resolves to return his unusual gaze back to gen, replying, ) And face the ignominy of one of those whips again? I think not. ( he rolls his thin shoulders in a shrug, continuing in a tone that verges on "long-suffering," ) No, if I decide it's time for another divorce between my head and shoulders, you've already proven yourself more than apt to wrench it off for me.
baltimores: (044; (ID))

[personal profile] baltimores 2022-02-17 08:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ For his part, Amos' expression is pleasantly blank. Whether he has someone else with him or not, it doesn't really matter — but he won't say no to the company. ]

Kinda figured I stroked out. It happens. [ Shouldn't have, to him. He's young and healthy; as much as he didn't have time to properly prepare for the shuttle's takeoff, his body should've been able to withstand it. So it's kind of a surprise that he's here, but. It does happen.

He hums. ]


One last drink would be nice. [ His voice is practically shrugging for him; whatever this is, he's accepted it, stray lamentations aside. ] Guess you can only take what you get.
passio: (pic#12160605)

[personal profile] passio 2022-02-17 09:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ it’s not a bad thing, dextera reasons, to want to protect one’s life—but in his esteem, either they’ve been brought here for evil purposes that have already been demonstrated to be insurmountable, or they’re being unnecessarily difficult to people who want the best for them. ]



[ dextera cautiously reaches out, the curve of his wrist looking almost delicate… and pokes at one of the exposed bruises on gen’s arm. ]
lifespanned: (pic#11709530)

[personal profile] lifespanned 2022-02-17 09:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ Chatterbox that she is, she is expecting the conversation to pick up at some point— but the obvious explanation in her mind is that he must just be too nervous to speak around her! Totally normal. Happens all the time. This makes 100% sense in her fantasy. ]

You know, you don't have to be so shy! Misa is just like everyone else.

[ She gives a little wink before at last letting him go, now that they've walked far enough to be out of the watchful eyes of those around the campfire. ]

And I have a boyfriend, so you don't have to worry that I'll make a move on you. Hee hee.
lifespanned: (pic#11709540)

[personal profile] lifespanned 2022-02-17 09:43 am (UTC)(link)
You think so...? I guess they do seem a little scattered around...

[ For a moment there, Misa looks puzzled, looking back on the situations she's been in that are similar to this one. Having been kidnapped and or held at knife point several many times in her life does get her ample things to compare it to— but only now that the other has brought up that the effort doesn't seem so organized does the realization dawn on her. ]

I wonder if they're "bad" at it, or if they're just waiting to do what they're really supposed to do. [ To kill them, or somehow harm them in a way more long-lasting than temporary resistance control. She hums. ] I don't think they'll kill us, at least. Don't you think?