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 Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers.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

scream

[semicharmed]

[ Matt's used his blood in spells before. And of course, the demon he tried to summon as a teenager scarred his cheek. But that's as familiar as he ever was with bodily mortification before he gave up his hand--he's never even broken a bone. And he's relied on his body as his instrument for spellcasting for so many years (relatively speaking), that losing it makes him feel hollow, off balance. Out of tune.

He's so preoccupied with his missing limb, he feels like everyone else is too. But J doesn't spare it more than a glance. And he doesn't subtly recoil from Matt--the perfect opposite, actually, as he reaches out to towards his hair. Matt's eyebrows climb, but he doesn't resist the contact. He's only very still for a moment, breathing gently.

When J produces the lavender sprig, his lips quirk. ]

Oh, uh ... that's very kind of you. [ J tucks the lavender coquettishly behind his ear, and Matt's crooked expression widens into an actual smile. Come to think, when's the last time someone asked him for dinner and it wasn't after they'd just smacked him on the astral plane? Much less with some pastoral balcony-like moment. ] Dinner sounds like fun, thanks.

[ Feeling less self-conscious than he has in weeks, Matt descends the stairs. ]

This is nice, by the way, [ he adds as he draws up beside J, in a lower tone. The fingers of his right hand make a gesture that indicates J's whole deal. ] I mean, I like the real you, but I can see how this would be a little more expedient.

cw: fetish mention

[tohell]

[ With that attempt at flattery the demon gives a clear scoff to dispute the claim. The hand he may have been about to offer Matt to steer him away from the staircase now veers back into his own personal space to settle with a bit of flair upon the jut of a hip. That's what you get for damaging a demon's very sensitive sense of pride, Matthew. Touching denied! ]

You mean the blatant downgrade before you now? It's a travesty I have to walk around, looking like- [ J makes a demonstrative gesture towards the length of his well-dressed figure, like he's unveiling a work of art meant for appreciative eyes. Only he remarks about his present state not with satisfaction, but with a single curt word: ] This.

[ Imagine if you were forced to don a costume that made you resemble a bank or gold mine. No one expects anyone else to look like the places they house their currency. But here J has to trot about as a mortal whose soul his world uses to buy their bread and butter. Really, it's a bit preposterous! (Ignore that humans are also Hell's brand of a kinky fetish, the way some people are into bondage or weapons in the bedroom.) ]

Would you enjoy it if someone foisted compliments your way for being absent an appendage or- [ Oh, right. His tongue touches the upper of his two lips in thought as he halts a quip a little too late to spare the awkward moment. For Matt, at least. J isn't much bothered by stepping on a verbal landmine. ] Well, you understand, don't you?

Anyway, come with me. There's a table out here I think you'll like. [ There's a briefly dismissive shooing motion given to skirt that topic while he strides towards a table set out on the first floor's veranda. It's not far from the commotion indoors, but it does afford them an air of privacy. The ideal place where two Kenoma can talk without the immediate threat of being eavesdropped on.

For an inn, the space he chooses is very atmospheric. There are hung lanterns to wash the evening in buttery light while fragrant shrubs, adorned with numerous flowers, line the railing beyond that space. The demon is nothing if not particular about enjoying the whole sensory spectrum of any experience. If they're going to eat, it's going to be in style- with just a touch of practicality to boot. And it's just then that a barmaid pokes her head out and promises to hurry along, after she finishes up a prior order. ]

lkfaj the icon tho

[semicharmed]

[ Matt blanches, though not so much at the mention of his missing hand, which he assumes to be intentional. More at the thought that he's already fucked up one of the few nice interactions he's had since the world ended. J's pulling away stings as much as if he'd slapped him. Matt can, in fact, imagine how strange it must feel to not be in your own body. Maybe that's exactly what J feels--that he's more than the sum of his parts, and in being so, can't lose a single piece without losing everything. ]

I meant the magic, [ Matt murmurs, feebly. ] Was well done.

Sorry.

[ But, okay. J seems to be moving on, so Matt'll do his best to follow suit. He raises his left hand to his cheek, beginning the unconscious gesture he's made so many times of scrubbing at the old demonic scar when he feels unsure or vulnerable. Of course, he can't complete it; he catches the stump out of the corner of his eye and lowers his arm in chagrin.

The table is nice, though. This little veranda is a spot Matt's noticed, but hasn't had the social spoons to request he be seated at. Now, he's pleased by its warm light, its enveloping flowering bushes, the air that feels delicious on its way down. ]

It's beautiful, [ he agrees, taking a seat. Since Matt's aesthetic opinions have been decidedly on the miss end, he focuses instead on something a little more objective. He gestures towards the blossoms nearest to him, which are--or at least resemble--rhododendrons. ] These have a secret meaning where I come from. They're supposed to encourage balance between countervailing forces ... and open doors to other realms. Encourage conversation with spirits.

i believe this is the first time its been used here, just for you

[tohell]

( ooc: sorry for the delay! )

[ Contrary to how utterly callous as J is with his words, the demon is shockingly attentive in his observations of the man striding alongside him. The flinch is caught in his peripheral vision, affording him the pleasure of sweet schadenfreude and a hint of intrigue. Not over Matt's emotional pain. Although, that too is something of a victory for a creature shaped by a demonic society that functioned on concepts of fear and manipulation. Two linchpins vital in determining how a demon might perceive another of its own kind. These methods are a tale as old as time for J, predating even his some seven hundred years of life.

It's the information that sets his eyes keenly on Matt as so many delicious facts float through his mind the way a savory aroma rises to the roof of a watering mouth with a deep, anticipatory inhale. Matt is too easy a read for his own good. But for J, that's entertainment in of itself when it teaches him more about his fellow Kenoma than pointless, space-stealing words. Actions speak so much louder.

After Matt settles into his chair, J does reach over to touch his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Like a parent suffering a pang of guilt for their heavy-handed choice of words in excessively scolding a child, J leans in to reassure him. How he missed this with Makoto. Remarkable as the boy had become once he'd (so quickly) come into his own, there is something decidedly wondrous about holding someone's tremulous emotions in the palm of his hand. Cradling their most vulnerable self, like a small animal, full of equal parts trust and dread, then hushing their fears away. ]

Don't worry yourself too much over what I said, just now. [ It's a far cry from an apology, but J isn't one for admonishing himself. Still, that he goes out of his way to comfort Matt should be enough for someone hungry for that consolation. And he thinks Matt might be. ] I know what you meant.

[ That should do it, he thinks. With the minor reassurance safely delivered, J retrieves his hand, reaching to use it to pull out a chair in order to sit down and join him at their table. ]

Perhaps the beliefs here aren't too dissimilar, considering how many things resemble parts of our own worlds. [ With that comes an upward tick of lips as he smiles over Matt's enthusiasm. J's lived long enough and been summoned across the varying continents of Earth to have seen mankind throughout the ages. So much of Earth's culture seems almost copied and pasted upon Horos, in a strange chimera of different points in history. ] But even if that much is true....

For better or worse, I doubt a whole mountain's worth of flowers could neutralize the forces at work here. [ The other realms bit does catch his attention as being slightly more feasible. Demons can travel across different worlds by means of portals or travel to different places with a demonic rune, so the idea isn't a foreign concept to him. Dispelling two opposing forces, though? That sounds too much like fighting the dichotomy of nature itself, or the stubborn minds of warring factions at each other throats. Which seems a little on the nose, if you ask him. ]

And which would you say describes our present situation, Matthew? Better, or worse?

[semicharmed]

[ ooc: Not to worry! I will wait for you etc., etc. ]

[ J's right. Matt is hungry for consolation, and similar flavors too. Approval, companionship. But most of all, he hungers for touch.

Some of that might be due to the way he learned magic, all bound up with flesh. But Matt, too, feels that words often fall flat--his own do for sure. He finds that emotions can swirl and shift in directions impossible to guess, even when they're his own. But touch has a simplicity to it, an unmistakable reality. Touch feels good or it doesn't; it feels right or it doesn't. Touch brings the mappable sensations of gravity and heat, the incontrovertible chemistry of oxytocin or desire. J's squeeze to his shoulder feels solid, the way few things feel solid. Matt appreciates his words of comfort, but he believes in that touch. It's the touch that lets his shoulders relax, that softens the line of his jaw and the muscles in his throat.

His eyebrows arch at J's question. ]

Oh ... well. Worse, by most metrics, wouldn't you say? [ Matt smiles ruefully. ] But we started off at "worse." And if I've got my cosmology right, things will have to get worse for this cycle to complete. They'll have to loosen the last of their hold on--you know, this. [ Matt gestures around the veranda again, sweep of his hand taking in the rhododendrons, the lanterns, the whole gorgeous affair. All of it false, or at least incomplete: like laying flowers on a grave without acknowledging anybody died there. ] So I guess, in that sense ...

Better?

[ His lips quirk in another small smile. And just at that moment, the barmaid returns. Matt's slightly surprised by her arrival, jarred from his existential contemplation, but he glances to J to give him an opportunity to order first. J's the one who came here for the food, after all; Matt expects he'll have strong opinions. ]