Expiation Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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expiationlogs2025-03-11 10:18 am
expiationmods) wrote in expiationlogs2025-03-11 10:18 am
Entry tags:
i. aftermath
[Fauna had gotten cocky. There was no way around it. She had assumed she could handle any enemy... And maybe if it was a single enemy, she could have. But eight heads were too much for her. She was soundly trounced, and sent flying.
Now, in the outskirts of the forest, Fauna lies collapsed on the ground. Unconscious, and covered in wounds- She would be easy prey if the Black Beast followed up. Fortunately, there's someone coming to help her... If you can call that fortunate.]
ii. recovery
[After making a minor announcement about the state of things, Fauna is... well, she's stuck in bed in the clinic. She was pretty heavily wounded, after all, and needs to recover...
For the most part, she'll be lying down and recovering. But once she heard about more of the monsters out, or the lack of safe zones, she'll be trying to pull herself out of bed. Ignoring her own injuries, she's getting up and trying to transform- Anyone else in the clinic will probably need to stop her from only making her wounds worse.]
[Fauna had gotten cocky. There was no way around it. She had assumed she could handle any enemy... And maybe if it was a single enemy, she could have. But eight heads were too much for her. She was soundly trounced, and sent flying.
Now, in the outskirts of the forest, Fauna lies collapsed on the ground. Unconscious, and covered in wounds- She would be easy prey if the Black Beast followed up. Fortunately, there's someone coming to help her... If you can call that fortunate.]
ii. recovery
[After making a minor announcement about the state of things, Fauna is... well, she's stuck in bed in the clinic. She was pretty heavily wounded, after all, and needs to recover...
For the most part, she'll be lying down and recovering. But once she heard about more of the monsters out, or the lack of safe zones, she'll be trying to pull herself out of bed. Ignoring her own injuries, she's getting up and trying to transform- Anyone else in the clinic will probably need to stop her from only making her wounds worse.]
[It would be easy to mistake the crystalline panther that comes to her as an enemy, between its sharp unnatural form and the traces of blood on it. However, after only a moment of staring down at her, it begins to push at her side with its head in a spot she's at least less obviously injured, as if encouraging her to wake and move.
It has other methods of moving her if need be, but this will go faster if she's capable of doing anything.]
It has other methods of moving her if need be, but this will go faster if she's capable of doing anything.]
[It takes her a minute to stir, but... After a moment, her eyes clench, and then open.
... A monster. Crap.]
Wi- Wild Ch-
[But she can't- She doesn't have the power. She's taken too much damage. If she tried to transform now... It would take her body. She would lose more of her humanity.
But it's better than dying, isn't it?
She grips her brace, unable to move it. But even this beaten, she stares up at the monster defiantly, as if daring it to do its worst.]
... A monster. Crap.]
Wi- Wild Ch-
[But she can't- She doesn't have the power. She's taken too much damage. If she tried to transform now... It would take her body. She would lose more of her humanity.
But it's better than dying, isn't it?
She grips her brace, unable to move it. But even this beaten, she stares up at the monster defiantly, as if daring it to do its worst.]
[Very well, Fauna, have it your way. Its worst is—
Pressing a paw against her face like an annoyed cat.
Its attitude properly expressed, it turns and begins to try to shove its way underneath her. She's not getting out of here on her own two legs, that much is obvious.]
Pressing a paw against her face like an annoyed cat.
Its attitude properly expressed, it turns and begins to try to shove its way underneath her. She's not getting out of here on her own two legs, that much is obvious.]
[Silly girl. Have you never ridden an animal before! Impatient, the creature offers her some encouragement in the form of a tiny, static zap to her middle as it scoots its way to getting her on top of it.
Another crys arrives from within the forest, then another, their forms much less obviously a reflection of a particular animal between the large sharp jaws and tiny hooves. They stop close by, turning their backs to Fauna as if guard dogs on high alert.]
Another crys arrives from within the forest, then another, their forms much less obviously a reflection of a particular animal between the large sharp jaws and tiny hooves. They stop close by, turning their backs to Fauna as if guard dogs on high alert.]
[She stares. Monsters... But they're helping her? Were they minions of another monster... A Wish's offshoots? But... That's not...
Her vision goes hazy. The static zap jolts her up a bit, but once she's on the monster's back... She can feel her consciousness slipping again...
As she passes out again, all she can think is... Why are they protecting her?]
Her vision goes hazy. The static zap jolts her up a bit, but once she's on the monster's back... She can feel her consciousness slipping again...
As she passes out again, all she can think is... Why are they protecting her?]
[Between the panther and its two companions, they manage to keep her balanced enough to travel, and they dart towards the city.
Zekarion has been watching the chaos of the Black Beast's emergence from a distance, theorizing, waiting. One of the crys he'd pointedly left in the wilderness arrives then and points him in a particular direction, and though he's not pleased to be potentially seen in their company, he knows they work on his own will. He orders it to rejoin the others, heading towards the edge of the city.
Before long, three more of his creations are in sight—along with a familiar head of red hair. The monsters see him, as well, and after depositing the girl on the ground, move to disappear into the city, their current task complete. He half mutters to himself:]
Fauna?
[There can be no doubt about it. In fact, the circumstances come to him easily with how terribly predictable she is... His pace increases.]
Fauna!
[He slides to his knees next to her, a hand on her shoulder for the practical purposes of detecting how badly she's injured. Even with her enhancements, he can tell she needs immediate attention...]
Can you hear me?
Zekarion has been watching the chaos of the Black Beast's emergence from a distance, theorizing, waiting. One of the crys he'd pointedly left in the wilderness arrives then and points him in a particular direction, and though he's not pleased to be potentially seen in their company, he knows they work on his own will. He orders it to rejoin the others, heading towards the edge of the city.
Before long, three more of his creations are in sight—along with a familiar head of red hair. The monsters see him, as well, and after depositing the girl on the ground, move to disappear into the city, their current task complete. He half mutters to himself:]
Fauna?
[There can be no doubt about it. In fact, the circumstances come to him easily with how terribly predictable she is... His pace increases.]
Fauna!
[He slides to his knees next to her, a hand on her shoulder for the practical purposes of detecting how badly she's injured. Even with her enhancements, he can tell she needs immediate attention...]
Can you hear me?
[After a moment, one eye cracks open.
Zekarion... Did he save her? That makes more sense. The monsters must have been a strange dream.... She looks up at him.
Her body is enhanced, but the Beast was still too strong. It seems like no bones are broken, thankfully, but she's still taken quite a beating. The internal damage is severe- She must have taken quite a few blows directly to the ribs. She's bleeding heavily, as well. So...]
I... What about the monster...?
Zekarion... Did he save her? That makes more sense. The monsters must have been a strange dream.... She looks up at him.
Her body is enhanced, but the Beast was still too strong. It seems like no bones are broken, thankfully, but she's still taken quite a beating. The internal damage is severe- She must have taken quite a few blows directly to the ribs. She's bleeding heavily, as well. So...]
I... What about the monster...?
[A surge of emotion he thought he'd left behind a long time ago swells in him and he finds himself raising his voice at her, an uncharacteristic sharpness in his gaze.]
Worry about yourself right now, you foolish girl!
[He grits his teeth as he calms himself, shaking his head. After a breath, at a lower volume:]
You went to fight it by yourself, didn't you?
Worry about yourself right now, you foolish girl!
[He grits his teeth as he calms himself, shaking his head. After a breath, at a lower volume:]
You went to fight it by yourself, didn't you?
It is.
[He won't sugarcoat it. That monstrous creature is still raging. Perhaps it's a miracle its form hasn't intruded into the city yet. Perhaps it's by design. He doesn't know.
His voice is quiet but insistent.]
Next time—you ask for help. Do you understand?
[He won't sugarcoat it. That monstrous creature is still raging. Perhaps it's a miracle its form hasn't intruded into the city yet. Perhaps it's by design. He doesn't know.
His voice is quiet but insistent.]
Next time—you ask for help. Do you understand?
⬬ and there you have it | information
[After he's made sure Fauna is getting the help she needs, he gets to business. By this time, Ragna has already explained the nature of the Black Beast, and Fauna's warning about her wish seeds has been added, something he can't help but think of as significant. With the nature of that program's questions earlier in the month, he can't help but think—was all this by design...?
At the start of his message to the network is a set of three locations: one near the docks, one near the city center, and one in the northern residential district.]
Anyone who's injured can take shelter at my businesses or home if they're unable to reach the Clinic or somewhere safer. I'll come retrieve you myself if the Arztenritter don't get to you first.
If you're willing to deliver supplies, contact me. Once we make it through this I'll make sure you're compensated.
⬬ when the outside temperature rises | recovery
[Outside of conversations on the network, he spends his time moving between where others have gathered to see what's needed and returning to Willow Clinic to make certain those who need to be there stay there. He keeps an eye out for anyone who might be injured and unable to move on their own, more than willing to carry them away. Unless confronted about it, he's not going to bother pretending he cares about the danger of traveling by himself; besides, he has no intention of fighting anything.]
[It's been a few days. It's hard to know if the progress that's been made is significant, when any of them is at risk of causing further destruction and harm and no safe place seems to be guaranteed to protect them against the beast's rain of destruction. Nevertheless, he continues in his role of the active civilian who knows his limits to some extent; he's retired to his small home for the moment to rest and recharge, though it would hardly be a problem for him to continue, truthfully. Still, he has to admit he's not had to deal with crises like this in some time, always on edge with the promise of violence around every corner.
A slow breath leaves him. He's not supposed to be here; if his plans had proceeded as they were meant to, it would have been over months ago. How much longer must he abide this, clawing for every tiny scrap of information, not knowing what might finally get him something of use and not knowing what might make all his efforts worthless? If only he didn't have to suffer this miserable existence any longer...
Zekarion brings a hand to his face, feeling his exhaustion getting the better of him.
He feels something—damp.
Sluggish, he pulls his hand away with a frown and sees a black substance on his palm, unfamiliar to him, though it reminds him of the way Chaos's corrupted pawns sometimes ended...
—no.
No. Not now. He can't lose control like this.
With much more urgency, he brings his hand back to his face to try to locate the source, as if he might somehow stave off the black fluid seeping from his eyes and nose with enough pressure—
Half of his vision blurs as his hand meets nothing, moving through the space where part of his head has evaporated into dark mist.
He's filled at once with terror and the sensation of his insides dissolving. He chokes past the shadow now spilling from his lips in a futile cry:]
No!
[His attempt to stagger towards the door—towards help, maybe, in his desperate thoughts—doesn't take into account that his leg has melted into shade, and what's left of him collapses into a pathetic heap, a cloud of fluid darkness gathering around him instead of taking its proper place as his physical form.
Zekarion's hand darts into the still-solid inner pocket of his jacket and he scatters a number of Gem fragments, tiny slivers becoming four-legged creatures with giant jaws in moments. With no time to think, he gives them a single order, the last act of an unaltered mind.]
Protect the Chosen—
[He no longer has a mouth to speak. But the crystalline creatures have heard his command; some dash immediately out, breaking doors and windows on their way to complete their mission. The others loyally remain around the dwindling remnants of their master, one attempting to shove its head into the slowly-escaping cloud as if to push it back into a solid man before it sinks into the shadows of the room.
But within seconds, there's nothing left of him, and they too depart to follow their orders.]
[Onyx's creatures made of black stone scatter, moving in packs of two at most. They continue partly as Altius did—searching for those injured and unable to move on their own, the clacking of their hooves slowing as they cautiously move closer to anyone fallen to examine them. Others seek out those affected by the power of the wish seeds, butting their hard heads in strategic places to trip up any aggressive monsters or blocking direct attacks against other Chosen, sometimes to the point of breaking into unmoving pieces, revealing the rings of white at their core.
Despite this, they make no effort to defend themselves from other Chosen, only evading what they can for the sake of lasting long enough to fulfill their master's order. They can't protect anyone if they're shattered.]
⬬ i'm coming down with a fever | shade; cw: discussion of suicide in threads
[Somewhere in the city, it's dark. That's an inevitability; even at the brightest point of the day, shadows will be cast under trees, into abandoned buildings, across alleyways.
Anyone passing through this darkness might feel like, somehow, that shadow has become a bit heavier; like a thick fog clinging to them. They may even feel a pleasantly numbing chill where that darkness touches. Then, there comes a forlorn murmur—in a familiar voice to some of the Chosen—in their ear:]
Wait, please...
[There's no source apparent for the voice—no presence detectable through supernatural means nor discernible by looking in the shadows. Even so, the words are too real to ignore, aren't they? Or perhaps that not-quite-touch is enough to provoke a reaction on its own, even before the voice can be heard.]
⬬ oh, dear | wildcard
[Want something else? Want Zekarion to rescue or be targeted by your character? Let me know at my plotting comment, or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
lumieresdedragon! A note: While Altius himself isn't detectable via magic/etc, his crystal monsters are.]
[After he's made sure Fauna is getting the help she needs, he gets to business. By this time, Ragna has already explained the nature of the Black Beast, and Fauna's warning about her wish seeds has been added, something he can't help but think of as significant. With the nature of that program's questions earlier in the month, he can't help but think—was all this by design...?
At the start of his message to the network is a set of three locations: one near the docks, one near the city center, and one in the northern residential district.]
Anyone who's injured can take shelter at my businesses or home if they're unable to reach the Clinic or somewhere safer. I'll come retrieve you myself if the Arztenritter don't get to you first.
If you're willing to deliver supplies, contact me. Once we make it through this I'll make sure you're compensated.
⬬ when the outside temperature rises | recovery
[Outside of conversations on the network, he spends his time moving between where others have gathered to see what's needed and returning to Willow Clinic to make certain those who need to be there stay there. He keeps an eye out for anyone who might be injured and unable to move on their own, more than willing to carry them away. Unless confronted about it, he's not going to bother pretending he cares about the danger of traveling by himself; besides, he has no intention of fighting anything.]
⬬ are they trying to tell you something? | interlude; cw: mild body horror under the cut
[It's been a few days. It's hard to know if the progress that's been made is significant, when any of them is at risk of causing further destruction and harm and no safe place seems to be guaranteed to protect them against the beast's rain of destruction. Nevertheless, he continues in his role of the active civilian who knows his limits to some extent; he's retired to his small home for the moment to rest and recharge, though it would hardly be a problem for him to continue, truthfully. Still, he has to admit he's not had to deal with crises like this in some time, always on edge with the promise of violence around every corner.
A slow breath leaves him. He's not supposed to be here; if his plans had proceeded as they were meant to, it would have been over months ago. How much longer must he abide this, clawing for every tiny scrap of information, not knowing what might finally get him something of use and not knowing what might make all his efforts worthless? If only he didn't have to suffer this miserable existence any longer...
Zekarion brings a hand to his face, feeling his exhaustion getting the better of him.
He feels something—damp.
Sluggish, he pulls his hand away with a frown and sees a black substance on his palm, unfamiliar to him, though it reminds him of the way Chaos's corrupted pawns sometimes ended...
—no.
No. Not now. He can't lose control like this.
With much more urgency, he brings his hand back to his face to try to locate the source, as if he might somehow stave off the black fluid seeping from his eyes and nose with enough pressure—
Half of his vision blurs as his hand meets nothing, moving through the space where part of his head has evaporated into dark mist.
He's filled at once with terror and the sensation of his insides dissolving. He chokes past the shadow now spilling from his lips in a futile cry:]
No!
[His attempt to stagger towards the door—towards help, maybe, in his desperate thoughts—doesn't take into account that his leg has melted into shade, and what's left of him collapses into a pathetic heap, a cloud of fluid darkness gathering around him instead of taking its proper place as his physical form.
Zekarion's hand darts into the still-solid inner pocket of his jacket and he scatters a number of Gem fragments, tiny slivers becoming four-legged creatures with giant jaws in moments. With no time to think, he gives them a single order, the last act of an unaltered mind.]
Protect the Chosen—
[He no longer has a mouth to speak. But the crystalline creatures have heard his command; some dash immediately out, breaking doors and windows on their way to complete their mission. The others loyally remain around the dwindling remnants of their master, one attempting to shove its head into the slowly-escaping cloud as if to push it back into a solid man before it sinks into the shadows of the room.
But within seconds, there's nothing left of him, and they too depart to follow their orders.]
[Onyx's creatures made of black stone scatter, moving in packs of two at most. They continue partly as Altius did—searching for those injured and unable to move on their own, the clacking of their hooves slowing as they cautiously move closer to anyone fallen to examine them. Others seek out those affected by the power of the wish seeds, butting their hard heads in strategic places to trip up any aggressive monsters or blocking direct attacks against other Chosen, sometimes to the point of breaking into unmoving pieces, revealing the rings of white at their core.
Despite this, they make no effort to defend themselves from other Chosen, only evading what they can for the sake of lasting long enough to fulfill their master's order. They can't protect anyone if they're shattered.]
⬬ i'm coming down with a fever | shade; cw: discussion of suicide in threads
[Somewhere in the city, it's dark. That's an inevitability; even at the brightest point of the day, shadows will be cast under trees, into abandoned buildings, across alleyways.
Anyone passing through this darkness might feel like, somehow, that shadow has become a bit heavier; like a thick fog clinging to them. They may even feel a pleasantly numbing chill where that darkness touches. Then, there comes a forlorn murmur—in a familiar voice to some of the Chosen—in their ear:]
Wait, please...
[There's no source apparent for the voice—no presence detectable through supernatural means nor discernible by looking in the shadows. Even so, the words are too real to ignore, aren't they? Or perhaps that not-quite-touch is enough to provoke a reaction on its own, even before the voice can be heard.]
⬬ oh, dear | wildcard
[Want something else? Want Zekarion to rescue or be targeted by your character? Let me know at my plotting comment, or at
[Stubborn. Not unexpected, but still frustrating.]
You're not fooling anyone.
[He won't waste any more time; he slides an arm under her knees and behind her back, slow and deliberate with the way he lifts her off the ground as to not cause her more pain than necessary. They're going to the clinic, whether she likes it or not.]
You're not fooling anyone.
[He won't waste any more time; he slides an arm under her knees and behind her back, slow and deliberate with the way he lifts her off the ground as to not cause her more pain than necessary. They're going to the clinic, whether she likes it or not.]
[... Is this a princess carry. She feels confusion- Why her? Why is she being picked up like she's fragile? Like she's weak? Like...
Like she's someone who should be protected?
She shakes her head- and winces, learning not to do that- but...]
I have to. I have to handle it...
Like she's someone who should be protected?
She shakes her head- and winces, learning not to do that- but...]
I have to. I have to handle it...
[He rises to his full height with the girl in his arms and moves with long strides.
His tone makes it clear he disagrees, but fine—he'll allow her the chance to explain herself, if that makes any difference.]
Why?
His tone makes it clear he disagrees, but fine—he'll allow her the chance to explain herself, if that makes any difference.]
Why?
But you don't have that power; not on your own. Look at what that thing has done to you.
[He's not accusatory as he says it, glancing down at her; merely frank.]
Others will have to anyway, now. You have to accept that.
[He's not accusatory as he says it, glancing down at her; merely frank.]
Others will have to anyway, now. You have to accept that.
Observer
WILDCARD & OOC NOTE )
( Please forgive me, my brain has enough energy for 1 singular prompt, but also, Gilgamesh is a character that wouldn't help out in this situation. He would simply watch. Please do not expect him to help out. He has no reason to. If you want to plot something out, please feel free to hit me up on plurk!zasshuu )
[ How boring.
Was what Gilgamesh thought to himself as he observed the chaos from a safe distance. The King of Heroes yawned to himself in pure boredom.
Humanity sure do love throwing themselves into chaos. Why should he bother to help them? That wasn't his role. His role is simply to observe with eyes that saw the deep. Louging around on Vimana, the King of Heroes crossed his legs on the throne as he watched Chosen turn into monsters and fight. Resisting their urges to go rampage.
Well, there indeed were a wide variety of appearances. Well, that was none of his business. He is going to do his usual business.
Standing up from his throne, Gilgamesh walked to the edge of his aircraft and stepped off the surface, into the air, free-falling before landing onto the ground like he jumped off a step of stairs. Vimana disappears back into his Gate as the King of Heroes takes a leisurely stroll in the chaotic streets. Ignoring everything that was in his way. ]
I need more wine.
WILDCARD & OOC NOTE )
( Please forgive me, my brain has enough energy for 1 singular prompt, but also, Gilgamesh is a character that wouldn't help out in this situation. He would simply watch. Please do not expect him to help out. He has no reason to. If you want to plot something out, please feel free to hit me up on plurk!
Oh my, I didn't expect actually to catch something.
[ The King of Hero muses as he was looking at an upside-down Minato that he "fished out" from the pile of creatures and humans with the Chain of Heavens like he was fishing. ]
Why is it that we always meet, Mongrel?
[ The King of Hero muses as he was looking at an upside-down Minato that he "fished out" from the pile of creatures and humans with the Chain of Heavens like he was fishing. ]
Why is it that we always meet, Mongrel?
[It isn't the chill that stops Dante in their tracks, but the voice reaching out from the darkness. It's familiar, and for a moment they wonder if they should start walking again, get out of the shadows and into the light, but something roots their feet to the ground.
...
They don't like this. But since their body seems unwilling to let them ignore it...]
< Who's there? >
...
They don't like this. But since their body seems unwilling to let them ignore it...]
< Who's there? >
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