EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)

[aionmods]

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 Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers.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.

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.

Comments

[passio]

[ dextera doesn’t want to fight eustace. his approach now isn’t motivated by a personal vendetta, or even a particular loyalty to his own side—but in a way, that makes sticking to the scraps of morality that remain all the more important for him. he can’t recall why, but the matter of dissenters feels so personal to him. so critical. and because he doesn’t want to see them hurt, he has to assume the thing that will assuage this unhappiness in his chest is to save them. ]

…

[ dextera withdraws his sword.

the strange form of the blade suggests it’s his own and not of horosian make. he doesn’t handle it the way a trained swordsman might, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable with it in his hands either. however he plans to use it, he’s willing to put up a fight.

his silent glare is his last chance to eustace, but he knows that of all people, eustace is not the kind to turn around and abandon his post. ]

[lockedon]

[ There reaches a point where he can't ignore Dextera's presence anymore. Where the glint of light off a sharp blade poses enough of a threat that his footfalls slow, and then stop completely. But he doesn't let go of his captive just yet even if one hand drops down, fingers curling towards the daggers sheathed at his hip. ]

Turn around. Go back.

[ It's as much of a request as it is a firm demand, a last ditch plea for them to part ways once more, if not amicably then at least without bloodshed. In the end though, he knows it's a pointless demand. There's a resolve now, in both the shine of Dextera's eyes as well as the steady grip of his hands on his sword, that Eustace doesn't remember seeing before, and while a part of him is happy to know that Dextera's finally found some reason to cling onto, another part of him mourns the divide that will no doubt grow wider between them the more the months pass.

Truly, forming relationships brings nothing but pain. ]

[passio]

[ dextera doesn’t want to do this. he doesn’t want to be here. but his reluctance takes a different form than the grim, empty determination from eustace’s waking dream. this is not something he’s doing for what he perceives as eustace’s own good—maybe it would be easier if he could justify it that way to himself.

if he’s lucky, he can bait eustace into attacking him, the captive can get away, and dextera will be able to escape with time bought. that’s only if he’s lucky. what’s more likely to happen, as eustace moves practiced fingers toward his daggers, is that they’ll be drawn into a fight with bloodshed on both sides, and no guarantee that some other kenoma isn’t waiting in the wings to back eustace up or take credit for the hard work of the initial discovery. ]

…

[ as an answer to eustace’s final demand, dextera shakes his head. his sword illuminates with what should be a familiar power, if only distantly so: the same light he used in the fight to escape the caves. he’s serious this time, relying on that same desperation but now with the control of someone who knows where he’s going.

he steps back. it’s obvious, but there’s value in that too, like the opening of a chess match. ]

[lockedon]

[ It would be a lie to say his heart doesn't hurt at the thought of having to fight Dextera. Technically they'd fought once before, but it had largely been meaningless then, a battle with no true understanding of both what was at stake along with the other person.

But he's talked with Dex more now, and dirtied his hands in this war more than he would have liked. The ugly reality is that he doesn't want to do most of what he's told even if the world truly does feel rotten to its core some days. But it's not like he can stop now when he's already gone so far, nor can he stop when there are still people within the ranks of the Kenoma he feels compelled to keep an eye on.

So he pulls out his dagger, heart and stomach turning to lead—but it's not Dextera he uses it on first. Instead, he pivots and slams it towards his captive, the dull handle hitting temple with enough force to send them stumbling down onto their knees, disoriented and in pain. With any luck, that should keep them in place for the duration of this (hopefully not that long) fight.

With that necessity taken care of, he turns back to Dex, staying right where he is and pulling out a second dagger, one now for each hand.

Go ahead, make the first move. ]

[passio]

[ dextera does flinch when eustace shamelessly knocks the captured rebel in their temple. it’s hard to say whether they’re truly a rebel at all, in dextera’s esteem. he knows what the regent has said, about trimming the vine and weeding out those who would seek freedom under their rule, but the population at large seems so weak. it’s cruel to send aions after them. it’s cruel to use people as bargaining chips in a war someone thinks they’ve already won.

maybe that’s why eustace’s action makes it a little easier. the casual certainty of it seems to resonate inside of dextera’s skull with something familiar; it’s something like having his face smashed into a mirror. he may not know what he’s seeing, but it’s easy to tell why it hurts. ]

…

[ dextera lets out only one short breath once he’s recovered from the surprise—then pain—of watching eustace’s inscrutable loyalty in action. then, he swings.

he handles his sword like a bat, and the first move makes it easy to see why: though the blade is capable of cutting through, the angle doesn’t matter. with his purification suffusing it, it will burn whatever it touches. he doesn’t normally fight other people with it, but—he has no choice now, and the backswing actually is aimed toward eustace now, a strike toward eustace’s legs with dextera’s weight thrown behind it. ]

[lockedon]

[ It's easier to turn his brain off once he's in the midst of a fight, to box up the pesky little emotions that haunt him day and night. After so many years of fighting and violence it's almost natural to let instinct and muscle memory take over as his brain flips to autopilot.

Dextera swings and Eustace throws himself to the side, tumbling and rolling awkwardly - he has got to do something about this gun - until he can push himself back up into a crouch. Despite the gravity of the situation, and the Regent's order to capture and bring back Pleroma, he doesn't actually pull out his gun, a move that would surely make this whole fight a lot easier. Instead, he keeps his knife in his hand and pulls out another one, opting instead to continue with melee combat.

Even if he's shoved all his emotions into a box for the time being, the box isn't infalliable; small cracks have grown in it over the course of the past few months, letting his upset bleed out little by little to indelibly stain his actions at the root.

This time it's his turn to drive forward, the two blades held out in front of him in a diagonal cross. ]

[passio]

[ dextera has always fought to survive. he doesn’t know any other way. if he doesn’t throw everything he has into every single fight, he’ll die, and the answers he seeks will once again fall out of reach. it’s why he’s held back from fighting here, in this place—he doesn’t spar with the other pleroma, for fear of being unable to stop himself from going too far. he can’t resurrect the dead. he can’t restart the world and cleanse his mistakes.

everything, everything has inescapable consequences. and he’s terrified of them. ]

—?

[ unfortunately for dextera, because of that restraint, he lacks critical experience fighting enemies that think. he doesn’t know a lot about eustace’s past, but it’s obvious he’s trained to do exactly what he needs to do to win.

dextera scarcely manages to block eustace’s drive, and the purification evidently means nothing against plain blades. the only remarkable thing that happens is that the light flickers out of his sword as he’s forced back, his concentration briefly broken. the sword is switched to one hand, and his arm is tucked in to protect the soft flesh of his stomach as he urgently seeks distance to rebalance himself.

but he doesn’t run. the moment he can breathe, the white light returns, enveloping both his hands and his sword. ]

[lockedon]

[ Dextera isn't trained to fight, at least not on the standard battlefield most soldiers are expected to occupy. It'd been obvious back in the caves and it's obvious now, his swings full of force but little else. But that doesn't make him any less dangerous now and Eustace would be a fool to let his guard down. (Even if he doesn't actually want to do this. Even if he's fighting solely to distract and disable, not to kill. Even if the only resolve running through his veins right now is the dutiful obligation to follow orders rather than any personal heartfelt desire.)

Blades clash against each other, the sound ringing out on the now empty streets. The block of his attack does little to stop him from pressing forward, and he wastes no time in pulling back and spinning to the left to try and strike Dextera in the side to knock him off balance.

Except...

Even with his shard now replacing his right eye, nullifying the effects of that injury from so long ago, old habits are hard to break, and he automatically flinches away at the sight of all that light gathering around Dextera's hands, eyes closing and upper body jerking back, his forward momentum halted for a split second.

It's an opening, one that Dextera should take. ]

[passio]

[ it’s instinctive. for the instant that matters, dextera doesn’t see eustace. he sees one of the grotesque creatures crawling the neuro tower, falling open for one reason or another.

dextera strikes. it’s clean, it’s searing. it would kill the meta-beings if dextera were able to get a similar hit on one of them, but both sentience and the strength of an aion protect eustace’s body from the same fate. instead, the sword sinks into eustace’s abdomen; the sharpness of the blade cuts through his clothes, and the heat of purification makes it smooth. dextera’s eyes are focused on the place the sword has pierced, wide and wild—and then his expression crumbles, as he comes back to himself and realizes he’s cut through someone he could have killed under different circumstances.

he’s not used to having a body to pull the blade from. he lets go—taking any augmented pain with him, leaving only the physical fact of the sword—entirely and withdraws with a hoarse gasp. ]

smiles so widely, thank you mary

[lockedon]

[ He doesn't feel it, at first.

Between the caution of potentially being blinded again and the surprise of being skewered without warning, he sees moreso than feels the blade that sinks into his flesh and internal organs. There's a strange beauty in it, in seeing something so white and pure jutting out of black clothes and an ashen gray aura. A contrast, yin to yang.

And then the pain hits and his senses roar back to life.

He's burned his skin more often that he would have liked, and felt the tell-tale symbols of heartburn as a youth when his habits hadn't been so neat and polished. This is so much worse than both combined. A cry of pain rips from his throat, his body stumbling back from both the burning agony of the blade as well as the force driving the blade into him. He's been beaten before and gravely wounded before but he's still human and the experience of old injuries doesn't make freshly gained ones hurt any less.

Out of all the thoughts running through his head - that he should pull back, find a medic, save himself and risk failure - there's not a single thought that revolves around Dextera's actions as a betrayal of their relationship. This is war, after all. These things always happen, no matter how much he hates it.

And no matter how much he hates himself for it, he doesn't abandon missions even at the risk of his own life. He can't just turn tail here and run. ]

Finish it.

[ It's barely more than a croak as he tries to recapture his balance, legs unsteady as he digs his heels into the ground for support. All the while, Dex's sword protrudes out of him.

Whether that means killing him or knocking him out, but one way or another Dex is going to have to commit. ]

I’M SAD.

[passio]

Nn…

[ dextera has never made such a sincere attempt at speech. he can hear the archangel over his shoulder calling him pathetic as his throat struggles to find the sounds he’s been deprived of, but all that he seems capable of forming are useless, meaningless whines and shuddering gasps as he’s forced to stare at what he’s done.

he doesn’t want to finish it. his heart revolts. eustace is his friend, star-crossed as they are to be found here in the middle of a war neither of them particularly want to fight—but he’s a friend with a sword in his torso, and letting him linger that way will hurt worse. ]

Ngh!

[ without thinking, but more desperation in his muscles than before, dextera drives the sword deeper, throwing himself behind it to knock eustace to the ground. whether or not that works in its entirety doesn’t matter all that much; it’s only after he’s done that that he, drawing increasingly ragged breathes, takes his sword back. he’s shaken by this, unlike the dream of eustace’s family—it’s in his wide, manic gaze, unfocused even as his vision falls on eustace’s form.

finish it. the command is a reminder, too, that he must take responsibility. his mind races through all the possibilities, and the muscles of his eyes twitch as if in reflex. ]

[lockedon]

[ Red blossoms behind his eyes as the sword digs in deeper, cutting through flesh and towards his organs, the continued force of impact (and newly added force of Dextera's weight behind it all) enough to finally topple him over, Eustace collapsing ungracefully onto his side with another grunt of pain. One knife clatters out of his hand, landing on the ground some feet away.

But in some ways, the determination behind the blow is reassuring. It means he can fight as usual if they're both giving it their all, regardless of what their relationship had been before now. He doesn't want to kill Dextera but neither does he want to die, the animalistic instinct in him burning still with the desire to live.

Despite the pain that suffuses his entire body, he continues to order his muscles to move, his now free hand propping him half up on the ground so he can swing his other hand, the one still clutching a blade, towards whatever part of Dextera is closet. The movement's shaky, unguided, an action born out of self-defense rather than the need to destroy and kill. ]

[passio]

[ finish it. finish it. finish it. the words tumble over and over in his head at such a dizzying speed he can’t see what’s in front of him. he would only need to reach out now and follow the muscle memory his body has learned, wrap his hands around the warm column of a human neck and squeeze. ]

—

[ but.

there’s a pause as eustace comes back into view, clearing from his periphery first before the haze of anxious uncertainty dissipates from his vision. eustace is not corrupt. he’s neither twisted nor distorted; he’s merely eustace, fighting for something he believes is worth it just the same as dextera. like before, dextera wants to trust that eustace’s heart is in the right place. that won’t ever have the chance to come to fruition if dextera kills him.

eustace’s knife gets dextera across the thighs, the kind of cut that will be sore for days but won’t kill him. it still stings enough to force him back with a hiss, and cowardice pushes him back further. he can’t… he shakes his head. he can’t follow through on what he’s started. even knowing that he would be doing eustace a true favor by knocking him out and dragging him to safety, dextera has made himself afraid of his own hands.

he gives a silent apology to eustace’s pride before he turns tail and runs, only slightly slowed by the damage eustace has done to him. ]