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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.

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.
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. ]
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'.)
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.]
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 ]
lyorning: (Default)

[personal profile] lyorning 2022-02-13 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you!
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.)
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?
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.
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! ]
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)
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.]
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?
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)
lachtara: (Finality)

[personal profile] lachtara 2022-02-13 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
He turns his head to look at her. Of all the people to accompany him here.

"Do I look pitiful enough to warrant your concern?" Emet-Selch has enough strength to be able to pick up his hand and wave it in the air dismissively. The gesture is accompanied by a sound of distaste. It's not entirely an answer.
aquaveiled: (himeka-447)

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-02-13 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Himeka nods, her tail swishing gently behind her. Yes, there's an implicit understanding with this other woman and somehow that also feels right. Her gaze shifts out to the path and she feels the beckoning call only grow stronger. ]

It's familiar. But I can't place it...

[ A new old friend indeed.

There's a pause as she looks at that hand before offering a smile of her own and taking it. ]


Yes. And it's better with company.

[ That is something she is sure of.

She begins on the path, feeling renewed confidence with each step. This is right, this is the way. That's what keeps repeating in her mind. When she looks up towards the cosmos above them, she sees a reflection of a town deep in the ocean, the shadows of various fish and sea life flying above them. ]


--I think you're right. It is home.
dancinglight: DNS (pic#)

[personal profile] dancinglight 2022-02-13 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Tsubaki didn't respond right away. She just gave him a look before letting out an exhauted sigh. That's right. All he was likely to remember was his time as an Ascian. The only one who really remembered what happened back in Elpis besides her was Venat. Deep down she knew that, but it didn't change how she felt about it.

Did she say something about it? Did she keep to herself like Elidibus told her to initially? Venat sort of ruined the 'don't fuck up the past' part already. With Meteion taken care of, everything should be fine, right?

"No, but what you're seeing," gesturing all around them, "this is all in the past. It's not something we can change. For what it's worth, I'm..." and she froze mid-sentence. Emotions were hard sometimes and she was not really in the best head space right now.

"I'm just glad to see you again. I know that nothing I say or do will change what's happened. I just want to say I'm sorry for everything that's happened," she just let it out. Thinking she'd never see him again, this was as good of time as any to finally speak her mind.
Edited 2022-02-13 20:58 (UTC)
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.
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.]
heart_of_the_wood: Knuckles pressed to their lips, looking thoughtful (Puzzling Predicaments)

Rebirth (will avoid mentioning Endwalker spoilers)

[personal profile] heart_of_the_wood 2022-02-13 09:05 pm (UTC)(link)
The figure that turns towards him, long, tufted ears angling to catch every sound he makes as well as signs of danger around them, is still slick from their own awakening. Dark skin is mottled and bleached pale around mouth and eyes, scarred by Light corruption that had yet to fully heal, yet the color of their eyes seems...off. Viera do not usually have eyes that reflect light the way theirs do, or the ring of gold around their pupils that seems to give off an eerie glow. Yet when they speak it's a soft, gentle voice as they step closer, claws digging into the earth with each silent step.

"My dearest Emet-Selch," there's something teasing in the way they say it, their voice a rich and earthy purr when they speak his name, though exhaustion is clear in the heaviness of their gaze and the way they bend to sit beside him, uncaring of their own nakedness or his own, and make little move to hide their curves. "If I knew, I'd be glad to tell you. Sadly, you caught me before I could explore. I've barely begun to get my wits about me." Long claws reach out to sweep a damp strand of hair out of his eyes, the movement slow enough that he could stop it easily if he wished.

Golden freckles dust muscular shoulders and arms like thickly clustered stars, dark flesh marred with pink and lurid purple scars both old and new, and there's a mixture of both sorrow and fondness in their gaze as they take in his frustrated expression.

"Would that I could be of more help. Are you hale enough? The hatching left you unharmed, yes? Glad as I am to see you, I would not wish one of my companions to already take ill from our mistimed arrival."
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! )
goldendeceiver: (your broken records and words)

we're not... not in this together?

[personal profile] goldendeceiver 2022-02-13 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A similar approach with a different demeanor, though instead of biding his time by staying quietly to himself, Ernesto is networking to try and piece things together faster. He's not humble enough to say that he's someone with a limited skill set, but he is at least aware that one of his stronger ones tends to be communication.

Judging from the vibes that his new friend is giving off here though? He's in for a little bit of a challenge. At least his question was answered.
]

At this point? Anything that isn't just another chunk of old building.

[ He raps his knuckles against the wall he's leaning on to illustrate his point, all the while doing his own investigation of those wolf ears. Lupo probably? Though he could be Vulpo. Ernesto kind of doubts he ran into another Perro regardless. ]
aquaveiled: (himeka-366)

ii

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-02-13 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Notably she has not tried to sock a guard in the godsdamned face, though the thought has passed her mind. Forced compliance is never something to be fond of, but without her normal spells at her disposal, she's finding herself less inclined to cause a fuss. At least for now.

And that is heavy on her mind--the fact that she can feel nothing in the world around her. Himeka spends quite a bit of time by herself looking at her fingertips as if willing aether to collect at them upon command. Like it's supposed to. Like it always has done before she ever realized what she was doing. Weaving aether has just been as natural as breathing.

Yet now she is without. ]


Hm?

[ Looks up at the sound of a voice, gaze flitting about before it settles on a man holding out something very precious. ]

For me?

[ She blinks once before gingerly accepting it. ]

Thank you--...though, won't you be hungry?