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Entry tags:
- !event,
- #innocence,
- archduke j: visionary,
- barnaby brooks jr: lover,
- estinien wyrmblood: firebrand,
- eustace: firebrand,
- father paul hill: martyr,
- kaeya alberich: lover,
- kim dokja: martyr,
- kim kitsuragi: martyr,
- liem talbott: champion,
- majorita: firebrand,
- makoto ("m"): firebrand,
- meteion: innocent,
- ryunosuke naruhodo: champion,
- tartaglia (childe): firebrand,
- yuya sakaki: lover
EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)
Sovereign Citizens
VENERA
In contrast the Aion's last visit, they now arrive in Venera on a completely average day... or so it seems. Unlike Godsblood, Venera has been given no warning as to what's about to befall it; the Kenoma are simply authorized to arrive and begin their bloody work without fanfare. Even their entourage of Achamite soldier don't stick out that much; in the time since the plague left, the city has refilled with occupying forces. Notably, the Hylician ones seem to be keeping out of the way, almost as if they've heard some things and would rather not be involved too closely in what's to come.As opposed to the ghost town it was during the plague, Venera is now reasonably active, with most attending to their usual business. Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers. Initially, the targets of the Kenoma hit list will have no way of knowing what's coming for them, but after the first couple attacks word will begin to spread. Those that have recently been engaging in seditious behavior will become harder to find, leaving their usual homes and workplaces to stay elsewhere, and making other attempts to escape the Regent's attention.
Once those alerts have been raised, the Kenoma will have to engage in more detective work to find their targets, questioning other Venerans and seeking out fugitives in the homes of their family and friends. In the meantime, some of those who believe they are in danger may become desperately enough to seek out the Pleroma directly, imploring them for aid. Unfortunately, seeking out one sect may just as easily draw the attention of the other. Most uninvolved Venerans will be too terrified to intervene one way or another, reluctant to aid in the persecution of their neighbors but fearful of consequences. If your Aion travels openly, it will take some effort to pin them down long enough to hold a conversation.
SEEDS OF DESPAIR
Several days into the culling of Venera, the Aions will have witnessed the city gradually withdraw into itself. The streets become vacant as more and more people decide it isn't worth the risk to be seen outside, abandoning work and play alike to hide out in their homes, refusing to answer their doors to all except the most desperate pleading. Those that can't avoid their daily obligations are quiet and morose, trying their best to remain unseen and unremarked upon.
If your character has been observed as a Kenoma, either now or in their previous visits to the city, the citizens will look upon them as if they are the messengers of death. If you are seen as a Pleroma, they will resist your gaze, as if fearing your presence alone might leave them marked. In rarer cases, you will see those with stronger spirits, with glares of hatred or determination. They are powerless now, but seeds have been sewn, and whether they are the seeds of despair or of action are yet unclear.
By the time the Kenoma's hit list has been fully addressed, several have been killed and several more have been rushed from their homes to flee the city entirely. There have been holes left in the tapestry of the community they were once part of. One way or another, their absence will be felt keenly by those they left behind.
If your character has been observed as a Kenoma, either now or in their previous visits to the city, the citizens will look upon them as if they are the messengers of death. If you are seen as a Pleroma, they will resist your gaze, as if fearing your presence alone might leave them marked. In rarer cases, you will see those with stronger spirits, with glares of hatred or determination. They are powerless now, but seeds have been sewn, and whether they are the seeds of despair or of action are yet unclear.
By the time the Kenoma's hit list has been fully addressed, several have been killed and several more have been rushed from their homes to flee the city entirely. There have been holes left in the tapestry of the community they were once part of. One way or another, their absence will be felt keenly by those they left behind.
QUESTIONS
What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
Estinien has plans to get an early start for the Pleroma by teleporting to the Lover's shrine and flying somewhere closer to set up a portal from the ocean caves near the Godsblood Lodestone to a spot of farmland closer to Venera. Paul will be setting up a portal directly from Achamoth to one of the Achamite outposts in Venera.
How much force can the Kenoma use while interrogating Venerans?
While they are generally not permitted to kill Venerans who haven't tried to physically fight them, they will be permitted to apply both physical and mental pressure upon those that refuse to provide them with information regarding the whereabouts of their targets. This duress should be proportional to the resistance the Veneran is offering. The Regent is not inviting them to terrorize Venera on a level to a level they cannot reasonably blaim themselves for.
Estinien has plans to get an early start for the Pleroma by teleporting to the Lover's shrine and flying somewhere closer to set up a portal from the ocean caves near the Godsblood Lodestone to a spot of farmland closer to Venera. Paul will be setting up a portal directly from Achamoth to one of the Achamite outposts in Venera.
How much force can the Kenoma use while interrogating Venerans?
While they are generally not permitted to kill Venerans who haven't tried to physically fight them, they will be permitted to apply both physical and mental pressure upon those that refuse to provide them with information regarding the whereabouts of their targets. This duress should be proportional to the resistance the Veneran is offering. The Regent is not inviting them to terrorize Venera on a level to a level they cannot reasonably blaim themselves for.
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Pale skin. Hair like gold, feathered like a princess' lap dog. Eyes like moss. Two jo tall. Lean muscles. Eyeglasses.
He's alone. He's distracted enough, chasing after some native and trying to speak to them, as if any of these Kenoma should expect a joyous welcome when the Achamite guards roamed the streets as they did... So perhaps she is divinely favored this day. She will not let the opportunity slip.
She slips instead to the other side of the canal, following parallel to the golden man in her glamored appearance as a two-legged woman, travel-worn cloak obscuring form and face, her six-foot long bow obscured in a bundle of sticks like a peddler. Unbecoming of a warrior. Sneak attacks were equally unbecoming.
But her revenge was more important than what little scraps of dignity she had left.
He looks frustrated. The bundle of sticks clatters to the ground across the canal... her bow creaks as she draws back the string as far as it will go... and he has a matter of seconds to notice an arrow flying towards him, aimed straight for the heart.]
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His sight is improved too, and even from the further distance he's put between them, he can see that unmistakably familiar face, even if her body is different here. He can also see the arrow, meant for him, now embedded in the door of the shop.
His heart hammers in his chest as he weighs his options. Even if he defends himself, a stray arrow could get others hurt. At the same time, he wants to try to talk to her, now that they're no longer under the watchful gaze of the Regent, and this might be his only chance.
So he gets slowly to his feet, hands raised as a gesture of surrender.]
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And though the line of her mouth and jaw tighten, she doesn’t curse or lose her cool, not yet, even though the rage is simmering just beneath the surface. This man had not seemed to delight in the Regent’s orders…
But he still followed them, did he not? He still pledged his allegiance to the thing that had claimed to have destroyed her world. And she wants it answered for. Someone has to answer for it.
The arrow embedded deep in the wooden door where he’d once stood quivers with the force of her fire, far stronger than a human was capable of thanks to the inhuman musculature she was made of beneath deceptively human-seeming parts. But though she has another arrow notched and ready in mere seconds, the string drawn back-
The golden man holds up his hands as if to surrender.
It might be a trick. She had promised that rather than kill she would capture, but the risks… if he could move so fast as that, why then would he give up so easily? If he had such magic surely he could fight her or run… So what? Did he want to try and convert her to his “side”?
Her muscles lock. The arrowhead stays trained on his chest. She’s glaring at him across the canal, waiting for the ruse or attempt at explanation.
But she doesn’t fire. Yet.]
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Can we talk, just for a few minutes? I don't want to fight you, least of all here.
[Certainly he'd been resigned to it back in the courtroom; he recognised the familiar hatred in her eyes and knew it would be difficult to change her mind, understanding as he does what she must be going through. But now, where he can speak freely -- and more importantly where their clash might injure others -- he wants to avoid that possibility if he can.
But only for a few minutes. He doesn't have his power suit here or its timer, so he has to keep a mental track of how long his powers are active before they expire. Being caught powerless before her will surely result in his death.]
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The Regent's servants had come here to spread his tyranny and root out dissent, but this one doesn't want to fight? He wants to talk? Hayame's gaze remains distrustful and hard, her fingers remain a single twitch away from loosing her arrow...
But a part of her is curious. What is it that he thinks they have to speak on? Is he just buying time for more of his fellows to arrive? Hayame's dark gaze darts quickly this way and that to make sure they remain alone here across the narrow canal from each other, in the backalleys behind shops and market buildings.]
So talk.
[- What kind of man could serve a being that had claimed to have destroyed their entire world?]
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I have no intention of serving the Regent any longer. I don't expect you to believe me, and I don't ask for your trust or understanding. But I would prefer you didn't waste your strength on hunting me down when we have a common cause.
[He could just run away and leave her behind in a matter of seconds, so long as his powers are active, but having an angry centaur (???) charging after him is a little counterproductive to what he wants to achieve.]
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There were a bunch of utter fools in that group. After all the grand speeches and emotional appeals based on nothing but hopes and faith that she’s heard from people in Godsblood and Greentruth… the servants of the Regent might not be wrong about thinking that just announcing such a thing might be greeted with enthusiasm. That it might be met with enough immediate trust despite his claim not to expect it that it meant she wouldn’t shoot.
Instead, he remains on the target end of an arrowhead, and Hayame calls out only two words across the water.]
Prove it.
[There’s only a few methods she can even begin to believe would be enough for her to buy that convenient story… but maybe he’s clever. He did look like a scholar, after all.]
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[If anything, he's doing this for her own benefit. But perhaps she'll be patronised, rather than encouraged by such a response, and understandably so, so he continues.]
But when I saw you in the courtroom... I understood perfectly how you felt in that moment. You hate the Regent. You want to destroy them, and anyone who dares cooperate with them. Maybe there's someone you want to avenge, maybe you want to avenge your homeland, or your whole world... But that feeling has consumed you more than anything since you arrived on Horos. It's eating you alive.
[His time is ticking down, the sand in the hourglass running its course. He needs to get to the point.]
I understand because I feel the same way. I had no choice when I joined the Kenoma, but if I could destroy the Regent right now, I would.
[Even without direct Communion, even with the sect dividing them, she might be able to gauge from that faint empathic link Aions share that he's telling the truth. That his all-consuming, deep-seated rage is just as genuine as hers, that it has nothing to do with being Kenoma or Pleroma. Surely that's a more honest form of evidence than any information he could try to bribe her with.]
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But he claims to understand her, perfectly, and Hayame's hackles race immediately, the glamor spell that presents her as a woman with two legs only beginning to crack and splinter as her will to maintain the illusion suffers. If she wold just open her heart or her mind to the bond between aions, invisible and empathic, perhaps she would be unable to call him a liar...
Except she hasn't been able to. Not properly. She's spent her entire life guarding her true thoughts and deceiving her own heart, forcing it to grow icy and cold for the sake of survival in a world where to bleed and feel was weakness. She has been here for months, and only once has she managed communion, the only other time the Regent had ripped her spirit into his court, it had not been her choice. It's there, some sick and unexplainable sense of this man she could reach out and touch and know-
But she's afraid. Because if she brushes up against him... he will be able to feel her. He'll know that beneath the rage and hate and desperate need for revenge... there is only despair. Fear. The urge to cut her belly open and end it all rather than attempt to live in a world that isn't her own and never will be, the only jinba left alive in a sea of men who saw her as half a beast.]
No one here understands me! Certainly no man!
[Her voice snaps out, knuckles pale on her bow shaft, doing nothing to disprove his claims. When it came to words... she cannot call him a liar in his assessment of her, and yet-]
You had no choice but to join the Regent, but now you do?
[She doesn't know how this black sludge worked. Did its hold weaken over time? Could he be telling the truth? Her fingers nearly release the arrow, only barely keeping her knuckles clenched behind the fletching.]
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[And, at the time, he had been wholly ignorant of any alternative, had even believed that some of them genuinely want to make a better world, and that it was the best choice in terrible circumstances. Now, having seen Horos for himself, he's not so sure. Even if the Kenoma Aions believe that, he doesn't trust the Regent -- can't forgive them. Just thinking of that black substance and the way it crawled down his throat is enough to make him sick to his stomach.
He still isn't taking his eyes off her or the grip on that arrow as he continues.]
I don't know if there's a way to ever leave the hold of the Kenoma. If there isn't, you're welcome to put an arrow through my heart yourself. But first, I want to do everything I can to help people here. [Even if that help isn't always welcome, as the shopkeeper so clearly showed.]
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If she had been brought in with those first aions… surely she would have bitten her tongue off rather than swallow the bl-
Ah.
They didn’t die here. The proper nature of death was interrupted, she couldn’t kill herself so easily. Or kill another. She’s tried. Halfway between Venera and Greentruth, her body growing bony and weak, she had tried to crush her shard beneath her hoof… and every time she’d attempted to release her hold on her weight she’d felt so nauseous she eventually threw up.
Maybe… he hadn’t had a choice. But even if that were so-]
If you truly wish to leave… if you will try whatever it takes to get free of that foul curse-
[There is only thing that she can view as dedication, whole and desperate. Anything less… it was surely just words. Surely just a trick. If he truly wanted to escape that fate-]
Give me your shard.
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[He's not so arrogant as to think he'll make a huge difference on his own. But he has managed to save a few people already from the list, and that's better than none. It's too soon to give that progress up now, when his inside knowledge has proven so useful.]
When this is all settled and the rebels are safe, you may have it. [His Shard is currently concealed under clothing, so he taps his chest -- over his heart -- to show her where it is. He had literally been telling her where she should shoot moments before.] Is that agreeable?
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The glamor flickers again, cracking as her stubborn sense of self that struggles to imagine her body in the shape of the two-legged humans that had ruled her life wins out, revealing a powerhouse of human-like and equine flesh, seven feet tall and over half a ton of muscle… that can be rendered useless against “magic” no matter how weak in comparison her opponent seems. She will have to recast the glamor before anyone else sees, she’s one of the only (perhaps the only) person she has met among the aions who will never look like they belong in this world and this man-
Hah. He’d said he understood her.]
No.
[It isn’t agreeable at all. Did he think it would be?]
You expect me to trust you with just that? When your legs move as they do?
[What use is swearing she will shoot him through the heart if he reneges on this offer if he can glow and simply run away?]
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More importantly, though, she still doesn't trust him, and this entire conversation would have therefore been a waste. Frowning, he comes to a decision.]
My power has a time limit. It runs out in around a minute. [If he's been keeping track accurately throughout this conversation, that is.] If you still don't trust me, my life will be in your hands soon enough.
[Will she turn against him anyway? There's a high chance of it. But he knows better than most that trust means nothing without some level of risk. He just has to believe she won't shoot the second he's vulnerable.]
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Her dark eyes narrow, her entire form far more terrible in its natural state, when she didn’t feel like she was wearing a costume. The costume of the race that had turned hers, once proud and revered as gods, into battle fodder, glorified horses, armless broodmares, and warm mouths to sheathe in. She feels like she can breathe better, clearer, with the spell broken, even if she needs it, knows she needs it, because… just the sight of her is wrong in this city. This entire world.]
Then you will stand there for more than a minute.
[Will the glow around him fade? Is that how she will know? Her arrow remains notched, the sharp metal head remains aimed at his heart, and though the strength required to draw the massive bow she carried, more than six feet long tip to tip, had to be immense… her arm hasn’t quivered with strain yet.
(There was a reason humans tried so desperately to domesticate her kind. They could see better, run faster, hear better, work harder, smell-)]
- and you will give me part your innermost robe.
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My-- but why?
[He wonders if at this point she was just trying to make fun of him. He'd agreed to this much, so perhaps she wanted to see how far she could push the matter...? It seems like a serious demand, though.]
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Her bow arm still doesn't waver.]
So that if you betray me, I can hunt you down like a rabbit in the field! That's why!
[Surely a good enough reason... What? He was shy?]
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[And why is he getting rabbit comparisons even with someone who could be a second away from killing him...? Some things are inescapable, it seems.
Still, he isn't shy about stripping down, so he shrugs off the cape and outer robe. By the time he does so, the blue aura around him and the glow in his eyes have both faded entirely. He strips off his undershirt last, revealing that he had been telling the truth: there's a pink, oval-shaped shard embedded in his chest.
He holds out the shirt for her to approach and claim, deciding it's better not to be the one to move closer. Though if she shoots now, he supposes there are still more absurd ways to die.]
Here, take it. My powers are gone.
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The glow around him fades. Did that mean he no longer moved at the speeds he had befoe? As tempted as she is to test it...
Hayame finally releases the string of her bow... after she releases the tension. Her arrow goes back into her quiver. In this backalley part of the city, the canal that separated them was no more than ten feet wide, and rather than leave him the leeway to flee by walking to the nearest bridge... she backs up as far as she can until her rump hits the back of the business buttressing up against the waterside path, exhales...
And makes a surprisingly graceful running leap, her fetlock-length mane and tail streaming out behind her like ebony banners. She lands heavily but safely in a clatter of hooves on her enemy's side of the canal, and from there whips back around to face him. He is... objectively, she thinks he is probably supposed to be attractive. He is well-built, physically, he looked strong enough for a human, but he's so... pale...]
Put your damn clothes back on.
[She snaps her request (demand) as she also snatches the undershirt from his hand, somehow effortlessly managing to avoid even a single brush of their fingers in the process.
But she doesn't avoid looking him straight in the eyes as she lifts the undershirt to her face and inhales almost... aggressively, not bothering to hide the way her lips twist into a look of disgust over the overtly masculine smell in her nose as she memorizes his scent. Sweat, some citrus tang, the smell of Venera, cedar, a mossy something she can't quite identify, a strangely fresh hint of water, and man.]
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Still, as she leaps over the canal, he thinks perhaps she's less statuesque and more like a painting, beautiful and fluid in motion...
...Which is entirely ruined when she snatches the shirt from his hand and snaps at him. The scene is so bizarre, and perhaps he's a little elated from relief, that he actually laughs.]
You're a difficult person to please, aren't you? [Perhaps it's funny, too, that someone would treat him with such disgust when he's used to being an object to be admired and marketed in his career. Maybe centaurs have very different standards of attractiveness...? Regardless, he won't tease her any more than that, pulling the robes back on while she acquaints herself with his nasty man scent.]
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Or whatever look that is on her face now, as he... laughs. At first, she automatically assumes that he's laughing at her, and her entire body grows tense with readiness to strike, but... No, that's not it, perhaps. That, and the awful scent now flooding her brain, make her... Is she blushing? A little.]
If you just cooperated from the start, I would not be.
[If he was willing to let his powers "run out" and risk an arrow to the chest, surely he could trust her with the shard... Tch.
Hayame folds his shirt neatly and then shoves it into the saddlebag she wears on the harness at her "waist", not about to give it back in case she actually did need to hunt him down. And with that taken care of-]
If you are not a liar, you will take this sign here-
[She uses a foreleg to gesture at the worn cobblestones they stood on, the edge of hoof scratching a crude "x" into the porous rock.]
And duplicate it when you have finished your business. That will tell me you will meet me in the hour of the ox at the west gate to the city that night, where I will take custody of you to leave the Regent's lands.
[She taps the unmarked stone next to the one she's marked, her voice brooking very little argument and yet almost expecting it at this point.]
Do you understand?
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Yes. Except -- when is the hour of the ox?
[The second hour of the day, like the zodiac? It might have a different meaning in her world, though.]
And if anything arises, we should try to stay in touch via Communion. [If you need help, he wants to say, but he can already imagine the angry reaction to even implying she might need such a thing.] It might be difficult, but it's an option.
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An hour past the moon's peak.
[... So, yeah, about 2am.]
...
[The new problem is... Communion.]
You will not hand over your shard but you expect me to let you into my head? What an impudent man.
[... Wait, why would be be difficult, though? She was under the impression it was easy for... everyone but her.]
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[His smile fades a little as he looks up at her. Even if he could, if Communion were capable of such a thing, he wouldn't. He's experienced that kind of violation too many times to wish it on anyone.]
You can control whatever information you share with me, and you can refuse contact altogether. [He's not the biggest fan of Communion himself, but the situation is volatile enough now that anything could happen, much like when the sects previously clashed in Venera.] Just think of it as another tool for tracking me.
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Her fingers tighten on her bow, her lips purse.
… If she hadn’t sworn to capture Kenoma and attempt to force the sludge out of them rather than kill them…]
Fine. You may… commune with me.
[It sound so perverse to say out loud.]
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1/2 (cw: forced amputation)
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