[Octavian looks towards the other figure, if only to have something to look at. They don't keep his attention for very long though, given the, hm, gentle manhandling from the thing that is bad to listen to.
He looks up? Maybe up is an appropriate direction for polite eye contact.]
Not particularly. I have no problem with death itself. The barrier does not bother me. I intend only to cross it.
[Death is merciless and unforgiving. None can escape its claim - not even a being a figure of legend, not even one made of clay.
There is only one role Ryoji can take in this dream.
He appears not as himself, but as Thanatos. One who shall lay his hand to this pure and precious soul to take them far underneath the underworld. To where all souls eventually go.
He can only look upon Gilgamesh in sorrow and pity.]
It's only his first day in here, but he has no doubt in his mind that this is a place that he would want to stay for a long, long while. Everyone seems to be having fun here, learning in unconventional means for their unconventional talents, and everyone's quiet joy is palpable in the air. It makes Ryoji want to take a look around, to simply soak in the essence of where he is. And that is where he finds the bespectacled tour guide from earlier, resting by a tree.
He smiles back at Scott, a polite wave as his own greeting.]
It really is peaceful here. A good place to live in.
[But, in the back of his mind, he wonders - is this peace truly real?]
The park was nice. She was having a good time with a... friend? Friend. Is that right? Does she have friends? She must. Junpei is her friend. So... Okay. A nice time with friends... it feels calming. Nice. Peaceful. This is normal, right?
But Fauna, with no idea of what normality is, has to look around in surprise when the padlock appears. The trees blocking them in... And she looks to Junpei for answers.]
[Most dreamers would panic and get carried away with being dragged into darkness. Ryoji is not most dreamers.
In fact, he feels quite at home in here. These moments of nightly peace are what he used to know for such a long long time. Not being anything concrete or material, just a being that exists for all space and time. So no. Ryoji merely floats in the darkness, staring unfailingly at an entity he currently does not see.
The way he speaks back is almost identical to the echo of a thousand voices.]
I do not seek power. I am here to do my job, and nothing more.
[Can't he enjoy his damn eggs for once?! Apparently not.
It shouldn't feel familiar but it somehow is, his legs moving automatically and instinctively to narrowly escape the barrage of bullets as they unfortunately ruin food and table. Yeah, he really should've eaten faster, shove everything down with the help of that murky water, but too late. It's survival now, fleeing for his life and somehow having the agility and flexibility to dodge those bullets soaring by. He swears that one just barely flies by his ear, but he always manages to escape. He's a slippery bastard.
But it's still running away from people-- Sentinels?? That term somehow feels more correct, but also wrong in its own way, but there's no time to ponder it because he's going down an alleyway. Wouldn't it just be easier to fight back? But he can't hurt humans-- they're robots. Why should it matter? They're hunting us down. The confusion of it all makes him just a little less agile, one bullet grazing past his side and there's a blossom of pain.
He can't stop though. Not yet. It's only through luck he finds a possible hiding place, feet shifting through sand and quickly hurrying despite the pain nearly pulling him down. He's had worse-- no?? He's never been shot at--]
The hell...?
[Scott mumbles, finally taking a break as he hides behind the water tank. His hand moves away from his side, grimacing upon seeing the blood there. It hurts, but yet, he feels like he can keep going.]
[Red? Red doesn't bother Fauna. Or rather, she doesn't notice- She's always red. Red is like her color, after all. But as Scott welcomes her...
... something feels wrong. She dropped out of school, didn't she? But then- No, isn't this right? She does live at the mansion now. She lives here, so, it must be... Does this mean she's a mutant? Yeah, that must be right. She has powers. The power to transform. The power to grant wi
the power to create monsters. to create monsters and destroy them.
The power to transform. She looks around...]
I don't have to pass a test to get in here, right?
There's a lot of fucking green around here and yeah, he knows it's green because he just does. Also, it's pretty obvious that he's currently surrounded by various plants, all of them healthy and obviously well-cared for. It's easy to attribute this to Kurama, the demon a small distance away, but what's really pulling his attention is the overwhelming content stemming from Hiei. It's not like he can sense emotions or whatever, but right here, right now, Scott can tell that something is in the air.
Like maybe a feeling he has when he's around Kotone--]
Uh, I wanted to be here? It's a free country.
[He's only snapped out of his train of thoughts when that oh so familiar irritation from the small fire demon is sent his way. Now that's recognizable to Scott, even... here. In this ordinary greenhouse. Either way, he had to respond to Hiei's inquiry with some level of sass. It's a requirement between them. His hands move to rest on his hips, arching an eyebrow at him.] Maybe should've put a sign out front.
[The screaming starts, glass shattering as the authorities outside react to the violence with yet more, and the captors alternate between panicked retaliation against those outside and spiteful execution of those inside. Ange isn't wrong to be concerned, though the nearby man with the pistol has focused his desperate efforts on avoiding the incoming fire.
Altius's amber eyes are unfocused, staring half-lidded at the ceiling with no awareness, but there's a struggle there, breath coming in shallow and one hand trembling as it barely reaches for—something, but ends up on Ange's elbow. He's bleeding at a concerning rate, the shot having gone straight through and shattering a rib along the way, which no doubt isn't helping the haze he has to work through.
Police shout another warning to the armed robbers, but it's only followed by more shots, more screaming, more injured. The pistol-wielding man catches Ange's red hair out of the corner of his eye, and turns. A young woman: a perfect hostage if there ever was one, or at least a decent shield, his last chance to get out of this—
But before he can do anything but reach towards her, a spray of blood bursts out of the side of his head and he falls dead only a few feet away, another body among dozens. Armored officers start to push into the building, rifles at the ready. It's only then that the origin of the memory makes a sound.]
... stop...
[It's a whispered plea, too little, too late, only drawn out of him because somehow, even so far from awareness, he knows how this goes—it's a failure that's clung to him for ten years, ingrained so deeply that nothing can ever erase it.]
[The figure, such as it is, lifts its head somewhat, as if to turn its own attention towards the phantom through its haze of misery. The entity pays it no mind, fully focusing its multi-aspected interest on Octavian as it seeks answers.]
And yet, by crossing it... you open the door for others. Or do you intend to hoard such knowledge for yourself alone...?
[ When you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in the splendor of something wholly unfamiliar: Claude's homeland. Or, rather, Khalid's homeland. The Almyran palace is something else, a place of almost obnoxious splendor, the walls covered in incredibly complexly patterned art, the splendor and majesty of it all defying words. Every window you peer out of is another glimpse into this other world; it seems that this palace has an entire city on its grounds, with incredible gardens, vendors, workers, and palace-funded shops as far as the eye can see, with its denizens walking past on horseback and camel or, if you look up, upon wyverns that look awfully similar to Claude's own.
But you feel eyes on you too. As they shuffle past, the state officials and servants and workers all seem to gawk and stare, hushed whispers filling the hall as they gossip and joke amongst themselves, their tones veering from sneering judgment to outright maliciousness.
And lounging on a cushioned bench is someone who had previously been pretending to fall asleep. Khalid turns his head towards you, skin a healthy tan from time spent underneath Almyra's beating sun, and clothed comfortably in the garb of the land, with heavy, luxurious draped fabric, his ear and hands glittering and dripping with precious gold and jewels. He smiles. ]
Don't pay them any mind. They don't look kindly on anyone who's different.
ii. fodlani battlefields & demonic beasts.
[ The first thing you feel is the sensation of complete and utter claustrophobia -- your body is suddenly encumbered with the dense weight of plated armour, your vision obscured by a helmet, and you find yourself faced with the overwhelming sensation of being an anonymous face in a crowd of at least a hundred others who look and sound much like you, some upon horse or wyvernback, others having shed some of their armour for the sake of greater dexterity. The sun beats oppressively down upon you from overhead and though you don't know why, a frisson of fear spikes through you, your tongue heavy in your mouth, your mind clouded, your shoulders tensed with the anticipation of -- something.
At the front is what may be a familiar face: Claude in full armour and regalia, upon his ivory wyvern, striding back and forth to truly address the fleet of troops before him, in the midst of giving some sort of speech. It's unlike how anyone has seen him back in Aldrip; far from the cheeky apothecarist, this Claude is a bewitching, commanding force, eyes bright and hardened, posture straight and tall, carrying himself as a Duke, a leader, a general. ]
--will not be in vain! We will fight, and we will win!
[ If you know him well, truly well, you may see something cross his face -- a flicker of fear. He's scared too. ]
iii. peacetime at the monastery.
[ You open your eyes to a beatific scene: a grand Monastery, tucked in the midst of verdant greenery, its ornate pathways and towering spires beautiful, clean, and pristine. As you wander, you may find yourself peeking in a classroom or two, filled with sturdy wooden furniture, lit by candelight alone, with a merry fire burning away, or perhaps a gander into the Church itself, with its stained glass windows and lines upon lines of pews.
Eventually, you find yourself wandering through the courtyard. All around you are students dressed in black and gold school uniforms, knights decked out in full medieval armor and nuns and priests bustling through, snatches of conversations that don't quite make sense reaching your ears - Professor Manuela is so hot, I'd like to -- I totally flunked that test -- did you hear what the Archbishop said, their faces all blurred, indistinct. What stands out in greater clarity than the rest is one Claude von Riegan in his own school uniform, his face younger, a braid now hanging down the side of his face, though his eyes still look strangely old. He's lounging by a chessboard, chin cupped in the palm of his hand as he idly moves the pieces about, clearly playing a game against himself.
When he sees you, he brightens. ] Care for a game? Sylvain ditched me to go try to pick up some girls, the cad.
[ ooc: we can keep this prompt chill and peaceful, or smatterings of the monastery's later destruction can start bleeding through reality -- please let me know which tone you'd like! this is a prompt where your character can experience medieval life, perform magic of their own, and generally do some larping. ;) ]
[ ooc: very belatedly put up a plotting post HERE so you can take a look at the basics of the prompts without reading all of them. preference is for y'all to say hey before choosing the almyra prompt -- it's his silly little secret identity, so I'd like to plot that out a little more! cheers babes xoxo ]
[Like recognizes like; Chaos takes only a moment before it understands just what sort of being it speaks with. The realization emerges in something of a purr of horrible static, not displeased in any sense to meet a being of Death. Though this one is not the Spirit it knows, all death is nevertheless akin to a cousin in the mind of the ancient void.]
You.
[It's a greeting, an acknowledgement. As if cupping hands around a cherished toy, its formless energy encircles the figure—which gasps at the sensation, just barely audible under the whirling noise.]
This one is now mine... and his time has not yet come.
Do not be so hasty, [the being teases with its many voices, the static of its attention brushing over the girl's ears.] Mine is the power of possibility... of change... of breaking down the strong, and bringing up the weak...
[The fire of Fauna's soul casts just enough of a light that the shadow of the other figure, crumpled in its failure, can be perceived—though the dark energy that makes up the space still prevent it from being truly seen.]
Are such things not vital to the justice you desire?
[It's true... She did. When she wished to the Goddess for a just world. And, in fact, part of her still does. She wants to destroy the strong, to help the weak. Create a world where no children are abandoned. Where everyone can be happy.
She can't see the other figure... But she has to help them. But maybe, the only way to help them... is to dispel this darkness.
She raises her arms in a fighting stance.]
But I've learned. No matter what you do, justice can't be built on injustice. True justice has to come from the heart.
[The darkness ripples and a scene slowly emerges like a painting on a black canvas. A city sprawls in every direction, its buildings lit up in flames. Three sundials hang in the burning sky.]
We wait... for the end.
[A familiar voice lilts from beneath a nearby cracked pillar. A figure sits sprawled at its base, dressed in an opera mask and a jester's motley.
Amon lifts his head and silently regards Ryoji.]
An end we could have avoided, had we known it was coming. Oh, folly...
[There's a peal of low laughter—cackling, giggling, snickering, each sound a different cadence. The figure brings its hands over its ears as if to block out the sound, but it's no use.]
You believe me to be unjust? [There's a sensation of movement, as if the entity has moved closer to peer at her, the feeling of being looked at unmistakable as its presence crackles in the air.] It is of no consequence. Such human concepts are ever mutable. They are neither true nor false—only excuses.
[The presence retreats, continuing languidly as it whirls between her and the slumped one she wishes to save.]
This heart of yours already gives me what I desire. Fighting. Violence. Destruction. These are aspects of me. With them, I only grow stronger.
Edited (oops close the html) 2025-01-15 23:01 (UTC)
[Her eyes flick around. The entity... whatever it is, is between her and the figure on the ground. She has to think fast... If this monster is darkness, she should try to light the area up. But she's a beast in the shadows. Light isn't her domain. So...
She instead strides forward. Boldly. Confidently. As if daring the being to attack her.]
You're not doing a good job of convincing me you aren't unjust, you know.
beach, high level gore is fine with me, Toph can't see it anyway
[ Toph has no real personal feelings about being on a beach apart from her general dislike of the ocean. She's taught herself sandbending specifically so she doesn't feel at a loss in places like this anymore, so that doesn't bother her, but being abruptly dragged along in a hurry does. This isn't the first time it's happened and she's immediately alarmed by how freaked out Ange is. ]
Ange-- hey! What's going on?
[ But she follows along without protest, hustling as soon as she can get her feet under her. She trusts Ange and if wants to pull her somewhere, she'll go. ]
That was the brother she knew. It was very much like him to avoid the subject and pretend nothing ever happened. Especially when it was clear she saw what went on. The problem now was if she should bring it up. Luckily, she was very much someone who will give Hiei that privacy if wanted to. Instead, she'll just stare at him before looking at the environment.
"...Then let's make sure that we get to safety. If there are toads and snowmen around, we don't want to run into them."
From what she could see, there was none of that around them. However, she will play along and let the silence do the talking. If he wanted to say something, she'll let him bring it up. Although, try as she may, she couldn't help but have a small smile forming.
[No attack comes. Fauna continues ahead of her own power—and the storm of Chaos rushes around and ahead of her, sweeping up and away its pawn-to-be with a whirlwind, keeping it in place despite the constant shifting of the space. The figure doesn't struggle in its grip, only making a noise between a growl and a grunt of effort as the Spirit answers her.]
I have no need. You will become a tool for my work in time... as did this one.
[The dreamer finally speaks again, voice distorted by the magic of the entity.]
[ Toph doesn't realize she's in a dream. She's young and doesn't have anything weird going on with her dreams like Aang, so she generally goes along for the ride, and now is no different. If anything, it's easy to get sucked in: Kakashi is her friend and he's distressed, yelling, she can feel how fast his heart and breathing are going--
She runs up at full speed and slides to a stop with her hands pushing out in front of her into the air. The massive boulder pops up off the ground and flies into the distance. It's the fastest response she has. ]
What happened?!
[ It's the kind of asinine question you ask when you're trying to get a handle on a crisis. ]
Root does not seem okay. She's a tall-ish lithe brunette in dirty clothing laying face-down on the concrete, and she completely ignores Peter for the time being in favor of screaming incoherently into the floor. There's fear behind it, but more than fear, there's utter rage, Root railing against her circumstances.
She painstakingly gets her hands under her and pushes herself up, breathing heavily. Her hair is ragged and she has a series of injection marks tracking down her arms on either side. Many of them.
Do not play coy with us. There should be no way for you to arrive here, human. Lying as usual.
[ The voice that speaks is not from the masked figure in white but a black shadowy figure with reddish eyes covering its form. Unlike the white figure when this one appears a sense of dread that might cause one to get the chills, even in a dream, will develop. It has no mouth to speak of but is also clearly heard. It seeps out from behind the chair, looming over the masked figure, who then holds up a hand to stop its advances toward Havemercy.
The masked figure laughs and waves at Havemercy to give him the go-ahead to do as he wants?? Alai is chill that way, unlike Malai who is a huge no fun bastard! ] Hm. Walk? Interesting. But you do not lie. This is a realm for gods to speak amongst themselves, not ordinary humans.
[ Nor does this one have powers that could get them here. So possibly something else? Intriguing. The figure will fold its hands together to rest its chin upon them as it watches Havemercy. ] We are expecting someone.
He is late.
Ah, yes, he is. But we may talk, should you wish, until he arrives.
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expiationlogs2025-01-13 12:39 pm
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