EVENT #3: THE COST OF INNOCENCE

[aionmods]

The Cost of Innocence

INVESTIGATION

As the Aions arrive in Venera, they will find the natural beauty of the city in sharp contrast to its uncomfortable aura. Though the sun still shines and flowers still bloom in a place filled with physical vibrancy and life, the air itself is impossibly still, as if wind no longer blows. You can taste the stagnancy of it when you breathe, and the pleasant sights only make that feeling of absence more haunting. The streets are mostly empty, with most of the city's residents hiding away in their homes, fearing the touch of whatever illness has caused this. That is, all the citizens besides those most affected, who wander the streets in a lifeless and painless daze.

Normally, Venera would be occupied by both Hylician and Achamite soldiers, but it quickly becomes apparent that both have abandoned the city, only guarding its furthest outskirts. Their reasons vary: the Achamite soldiers seem to take religious objection to the feeling of the city, believing it to be some trickery of the Innocent, while the Hylicians simply see it as a plague they have no interest in catching or spreading. Because of this, it will be easy for Aions of both sects to explore with little pushback from any form of law enforcement. The Kenoma will be directed into the city with warnings about the potential physical and spiritual danger while Pleroma will be able to sneak in mostly unbothered. After all, no one is eager to follow you.

Most shops and businesses are currently closed, though some uninfected individuals still nervously keep watch over their workplaces, fearing potential looting. It's difficult, but not impossible, to find people to talk to, and while the most plentiful wanderers are the infected, the reactions from those with their minds still intact will vary. Some will be eager to speak to anyone who looks like they're trying to do something about their situation, desperate for any source of outside help. If revealed you are an Aion, this may either entice them even further or cause them to retreat, as if fearing that you are somehow to blame for their plight. For those that are enticed, it will become clear that they hold onto faith that Aions are in Horos to save them, and will tell these new arrivals whatever they can without discriminating between sects.

The base level information that can be found is thus: the infection began at the same levels it has been in the rest of Horos, only for the numbers of the afflicted to rapidly accelerate upon the coming of the Innocent's Moon. Some see it as a form of divine punishment for their cooperation with the Regent, while the less cooperative citizens see it as a malady brought about by the Aions themselves, their only hope being that they will be able to clean up the mess they made. Some citizen have managed to corral their inflicted loves ones into their rooms and will be willing to introduce you; most of these individuals are past the point of conversation, and seem fully lost to whatever fantasy world they are experiencing. They are disinterested in eating or drinking and it seems like, without help, they are destined for a slow death of starvation and atrophy. That is, if their apathetic state doesn't result in a severe accident, as it has in many cases already.

Any other clues will take more dogged investigation. It will be a day or so after the majority of Aions have arrived in the city that the first signs of their own infections become clear.

HEAVENLY BODIES

The first to feel its effects will be the Innocents, Lovers, and Celebrants; like a voice has fully awakening to them, whispering of how their touch can be the cure to the others' pain. It bids them to take their fellow Aions into their loving embrace, to share this gift, as only suffering lies ahead. It expresses without words that it will be a shield for their Aion kindred, and that those that accept will become their outstretched hands to a cosmos that craves peace. Any form of physical contact with those three Legacies will either introduce or rapidly accelerate the infections experienced by the others, this effect only becoming more intense if the wielder intentionally forces the power of this strange entity into their victims.

Even without that accelerating touch, however, other Aions are not necessarily safe; the infection will still seep in, albeit more slowly. All Aions may experience a growing feeling of connection to the infected Venerans, as if the energy within them is being drawn into their their own bodies. As the Aion's symptoms worsen, the the ones suffered by the Venerans will gradually lessen, though not go away entirely. It seems that the Aions soaking up this strange power is enough to take the edge off of what is happening to the citizens: but at what cost?

Various symptoms will manifest in afflicted Aions with outcomes far more diverse and devastating than what the Veneran civilians have experienced. Visionaries, Firebrands, and Artisans will suffer the most catastrophic symptoms, the clash between their spiritual natures and that of the Innocence being the most extreme. This malady is characterized by its innate desire to quell its victims of their resistance, smothering them in artificial peace, even if it has to deprive them of their bodies and minds to do so.

It is not without treatment, however. It will gradually become apparent that feelings of intense suffering or upset are capable of purging the infection, that clash with painful reality seeming to wake them up from their trance and reduce or eliminate physical symptoms. The more intense the distress, the more effective it will be. Fortunately, this heightening of Aion spiritual energy has the added consequence of making empathic communion connections far more acute. Instead of just transmitting and receiving emotions and thoughts, Aions will find themselves more easily able to enter the delusions and memories of their kindred, drawing them out and manipulating them for this purpose. The catch is that they will only be able to access what is on the surface of the other Aion's mind.

When an infection is reduced or expelled this way, the energy causing it seems to be dispelled from the city, lowering the intensity of its ambient effects. While similar can be done to Veneran citizens to help treat them, the energy will not leave, and will either go into the Aion casting it out or return to the nebulous source of Innocence and eventually infect someone else. Something about going through the Aions specifically seems to act as a filter, as unpleasant of a way as it is to help.

IN THE SILENCE

For those unlucky enough to develop complete, or near complete, infections (IE. a full Innocence petrification) a presence will awaken within them regardless of their Legacy. It will urge them to join with it, to embrace the peace it offers, and to become the extensions of their will in this ravaged world. With an infection of this intensity, there will be little they can do but to hear its call. What exactly this would ultimately entail is unclear, but there is the sense that his entity is looking to join with you on a spiritual level. If your character becomes infected to this degree please let us know under the Committed Actions toplevel below along with the context of that transformation and whether or not they are being cured from it. You may receive some additional information in return!

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
The quickest travel paths are for Kenoma to take a boat from Achamoth, which will take about a day, and for Pleroma to teleport to the Celebrant's shrine and take either a carriage or river boat to the city (there are offshoot rivers not marked on the setting map). The riverboats would be the faster option option of the two, and would also take about a day. The carriages/delivery carts would be slower and take a couple days, but have relay access to horses and therefore could keep going overnight. Characters with flight are also able to use that, though flying right into the city might cause a bit of spectacle. Then again, none of the local law enforcement is eager to chase you at the moment.

Are Veneran civilians experiencing the same symptoms as the Aions?
Veneran civilians are only experiencing apathy/loss of self/daydreaming and maybe the loss of pigments/color for advanced cases. The more body horror orientated effects are Aion only and are being caused by their body's spiritual makeup.

Can 'cured' Aions be reinfected?
Yes! Even if cured or treated, symptoms can return or worsen again. This will keep happening until the build up of Innocence energy in Venera is entirely expunged, at which point the illness will fade away across the continent. Whether or not the Aions mere presence will be enough to trigger that is yet unknown, but it does seem to be helping lessen the effects suffered by the civilians, at least.

How long does the infection period last in Aions?
Chronologically, we are considering the infection period of the plot to last 2-3 days.

Comments

[epiprocta]

Haa ... [ Gen just gives a begrudging sigh as he withdraws his boot from Johnny's side. Then he steps over the man to take a seat on the bench that he's apparently decided to take shelter under. ] Sure does seem like you people are having a good time, daydreaming like that.

[ Does he sound a little bit spiteful as he gives that low mutter mostly to himself? No, shut up. He's not at all jealous of people who can seem so utterly, brainlessly content.

And not knowing what else to do, Gen sighs once more, crosses his legs, props his chin up on his hands, then peers down at Johnny as he answers more loudly: ]

Yeah, it's done.

[ Might as well see where this guy's daydreams are going. What, does he think he's back home with his family or something? ]

[comelately]

[ rest assured that Johnny would be pissed if he knew it was happening. Is pissed, every time he managed to wrestle his consciousness back down to earth and remember where he is and what's happening. As he is now, though, even the pain of the feathers is reduced to a minor irritant - biting flies, coming out during the warm night, that's all.

What's Gyro sitting on? It doesn't matter. The inconsistency goes completely unnoticed. Instead, he just sighs, slowly pulling himself out from underneath the chair. ]

When this is over, I'm never eating rabbit again. [ dryly. ] I wish we had fried chicken, or... You ever had American barbecue?

[epiprocta]

[ ... wow, thanks asshole, he hadn't been conscious of it but now that Johnny mentions food, he's really quite hungry. Gen frowns when his stomach growls; funny how he's vaguely aware he should eat soon, but has a hard time pushing himself to actually tend to that need. ]

No ... don't think so. [ What kind of role is he playing in this guy's head, he wonders. Gen leans his elbows on his knees and hunches over to look Johnny over more closely. Are they in America, maybe? ] Sounds good, though. What's it like?

[ And he takes the chance to just ... reach out and poke Johnny in the cheek as petty retribution for making him hungry. And just to see how that affects these daydreams. Maybe it'll start rousing the guy from them, if even the slightest. Or maybe he'll be able to see a glimpse of what Johnny's seeing. Who knows. ]

[comelately]

[ sorry, Gen. Unfortunately, Johnny's fondest and most peaceful memories are of him roughing it out in the wilderness, where fried chicken is but a distant dream...

he sits up, arranging his legs so they're out of the way as he speaks. ]

Oh, boy. We got grits, gravy and biscuits, fruit cobblers for dessert... And you haven't really had meat until you've had barbecue, for real. When this is over, you should come back to Kentucky - I'll treat you.

[ normally, he wouldn't say such a thing - it's presumptuous, for one thing, to imagine that Gyro would have the time to fuck around with him after the race, but even more than that, Johnny doesn't really have a place to return to in Kentucky anymore. There is no "coming back." None of that occurs to him now. It all just feels simple.

Except for the part that feels like getting poked in the face. It doesn't seem like it rouses him from the daydream, but it does get his attention - he waves Gen's hand away, looking mildly disgruntled. ]

-- What?

[ a glimpse of what Johnny's seeing? Well, if Gen wants to see it, he can get a reflection of who Johnny's mistaking him for, and a little more clarity on the scene around them, like a pair of horses grazing nearby. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Truth be told, he doesn't know half the shit that this guy's talking about. (What the hell are 'grits'? They sound gross. 'Biscuits' -- like cookies? And what the fuck is a 'cobbler.')

But that doesn't really matter, because this all sounds ... nice.

Even if a part of him is unnerved by the sensation of having another person's memories forced upon him, the landscape of Johnny's memories are so utterly foreign to him that it's easy to forget that discomfort for now. The wide expanse of the desert, the horses quietly gazing in the background, the blue of the skies overhead -- it's all like something out of a Hollywood movie, but exponentially more vivid. ]

... Kentucky, huh.

[ So -- that vista is from someplace in America, right? A country halfway across the world from his homeland, someplace he can't even dream of setting foot. Someplace he never had and never will have any connection to. Someplace this guy so casually invites him to.

The thought's amusing enough that he's willing to overlook the guy seeing him for -- whatever the hell's going on with the man from Johnny's memories, some sort of weirdo freakshow. And indulging in these sorts of thoughts for just a few more moments should be fine, right?

Gen just looks at Johnny for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. A 'no, it's nothing' sort of gesture. ]

An' what's it like over there? How d'you plan on spending time? You're not just gonna invite me over to sit around eating all the time, are you?

[comelately]

Did I not tell you I was from there?

[ he sounds playfully surprised, covering a faint sense of guilt. He knows a lot about Gyro, after all. It's not in his nature to talk about his past too much, though, because God knows nobody wants to listen to his sob stories - he can barely stand thinking about them again, himself - so he supposes it's possible. Maybe he'd just assumed Gyro would pick it up in one of the newspaper articles they ran on him back at the start.

He absentmindedly rubs his cheek in the spot "Gyro" poked him. Well, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters much right now. ]

Anyway... You'd love it if you got to sit around eating the whole time, first of all, [ he continues, sounding quite certain of this. ] But... I dunno, we could see the sights. Relax and enjoy things instead of rushing around. We could ride around for fun instead of for our lives, for once. We could go party - I know a lot of good spots. Good drinks, good music, pretty girls and dancing...

[ frankly, he hadn't really thought this far ahead, and now he's slightly embarrassed about it, trailing off. Just hanging out - that's all he'd really like, when he thinks about it. A friend. The idea of going back to being alone all the time after spending so many months together is more frightening than he'd like to admit. Gyro's probably not thinking that way, though, is he? Gyro's got a life to return to, unlike him. The dour thoughts are less clinging than they would be normally, thanks to the sickness, but even so, he winds up keeping his mouth shut, suddenly self-conscious. ]

[epiprocta]

[ This is pathetic.

Whoever this guy is talking to -- he just wants to spend time with him, doesn't he? Gen stifles a near-silent sigh to himself as he studies the look on Johnny's face, that look of muted longing. Maybe it's the empathetic link forced onto him by the Innocence, or maybe it's just that he's more familiar with the sentiment than he'd ever willingly admit, but Gen knows for sure that whoever it is Johnny's talking to ... that laundry list of activities he's proposing doesn't mean half as much as just getting to spend time with that mystery person. And he can't even just say it straight. Pathetic.

(But what does that make him, Gen wonders, as he wastes his time listening to that pining.) ]

... yeah, sounds good. I'm up for all that, I guess. [ He manages a droll smile to himself. ] Seeing the sights sounds good.

[ Too good, in fact. Too good to be true.

Gen lets his words hang in the air for a moment before he exhales slowly and leans in. There's a flatter, harder edge to his words when he next speaks: ]

But how're we gonna get there, huh? [ For better or for worse, he can't just stay wallowing in that daydream forever. So Johnny doesn't get that privilege either. Best remind him that that idyllic scenario from his dreams is far, far out of reach. ] D'you even know where we are right now? D'you really think we can get to Kentucky from this place?

[comelately]

[ wow the judgement... judgement that Johnny would agree with if he knew...

but he doesn't know, so he can only silently pass it on himself, albeit less harshly than usual thanks to the sickness - and especially less so when "Gyro" agrees, anyway. Like Johnny knew he would. That's why Johnny bothered saying anything at all. He gives half a smile and a nod, and he feels himself ease just a little bit more. In the moment, there's nothing telling him that he's got a long way to go, no pessimistic reminder that the likelihood of either of them surviving this is shrinking. Just calmness and peace. It feels fine to wonder about a hazy future instead of wondering about the turbulent present.

Or, well, it feels that way to Johnny. Apparently not so much his companion. It's not unusual for Gyro to get cranky, so he doesn't seem too surprised by the turn. ]

After the race, like I said. You know we can't stop now. [ he clicks his tongue. ] And of course I know where we are. We left Chicago a while ago.

[epiprocta]

[ Look, it takes one to know one, and he can smell the familiar stench of a lonely pining loser all over this daydream, okay. ]

Yeah, did we? You sure about that?

[ And he's just gonna -- yeah, lean forward to slap Johnny on the cheek. Not that hard at all, just enough to make that smack sound and jostle him a little bit. (Okay, maybe it will hurt a little.) ]

You think it's Chicago we left? Not -- [ The only thing that gives him pause is that he doesn't actually know where the Pleroma -- because this guy's a totally new face to him, he can't be a Kenoma, can he? -- are staying. Gen frowns before continuing at an arrogant drawl, ] -- not from some fucked-up place in Horos? That name ring a bell for you at all? C'mon, think.

[ How much prodding will it take to rouse this guy from his idyllic daydreams, Gen wonders. How badly does he want to be shooting the shit with his friend, instead? ]

[comelately]

[ 😔

luckily - or maybe unluckily? - it's actually pretty normal for Gyro to smack him once in a while, so while it takes him off-guard, it doesn't strike Johnny as entirely unusual when he gets slapped. Being normal and being welcome are two separate things, however, and, one hand flying to his cheek, Johnny glares at him. He thought they were having a nice conversation; he'd even been a little bit vulnerable, inviting Gyro to hang out with him after the race, and this is what he gets? The unexpected betrayal stings much more than the reddening mark on his face. ]

Ow - what the fuck?

[ he sputters, but "Gyro" is still talking, and his words are even more shocking than the violence. The hurt he's feeling ebbs away into confusion, and, for the first time, there's a small hint of clarity in Johnny's eyes. ]

Hor - what? Did you eat a weird mushroom on the trail or something? Jesus, you're acting weird. [ he studies Gyro's face, and begins to notice that something looks a little different - did he shave? He looks paler, too. The realization makes his stomach turn, and he tears his eyes away quickly. ] Cut it out.

[epiprocta]

Look at me.

[ He'd been speaking at a slow drawl, but Gen's voice abruptly sharpens to a guttural snarl; even if his tone of voice weren't so harsh, the sheer, startling change in pitch should serve to draw Johnny's attention. Even if he's trying hard to look away.

At least his voice settles back down to that lower pitch once he knows Johnny is looking at him, though it's rather undermined by the way Gen leans in closer. Practically looming over the other as he continues to speak. ]

I'm not the one off his rocker right now. There's no trail here. No mushrooms, either. D'you know where here is?

[ A pause. And though it's subtle, there's a more ragged edge to his voice when he continues -- a mercy he wouldn't show most people, except maybe the vivid longing in Johnny's memories have made him a little softer. Just for a moment. ]

I'm not the one who wanna go to Kentucky with. You know that, right? Think about'em. Properly.

[comelately]

[ it's also not that unusual for them to yell at each other - it's only unusual because of the circumstances. Ostensibly, they were relaxing for the night. Right? Johnny startles at the volume and the roughness, though Gen gets his wish: Johnny stares at him with narrowed eyes, silently demanding some kind of explanation for this treatment. Anyone else and he would have told them to back the fuck up, but Gyro's more than earned a sliver of Johnny's patience. ]

I just told you where here is, [ he replies in that pause, testy, brow creasing further, but he listens to the rest of what he says, too, and that makes his expression go from hurt annoyance to something closer to confusion. ] What...? What're you saying? There's nobody else who...

[ he trails off, both because he's ashamed of the accidental honesty of the statement that was about to escape his lips and because he is, despite all his defiance, listening to what "Gyro" has to say. Johnny's learned too much from him not to. Of course Gyro's the one he wanted to go with; he doesn't have any other friends. Who else would there be? Yet even as he thinks that, focuses on it just a little bit, he becomes increasingly aware that something's not quite right with Gyro's face, or with the area around them. Where is here? When he thinks about it, they're miles beyond Chicago already - they're already in Philadelphia, right? This happened already, and... ]

W-wait... My head hurts... [ he squishes his eyes shut, bringing a hand to his temples. ] Gyro, what's going on?

[epiprocta]

I said look at me!

[ Again, his voice sharpens to a snarl. But these things lose their efficacy with repeat uses, right? Don't worry, Johnny, he accounted for that.

Which is to say, this time Gen accompanies that demand with a hard slap across the face, the flat of his palm whacking solidly into Johnny's cheek, the impact more than enough to leave his skin hot and stinging. And the manhandling doesn't stop there, because Gen leans in to fist his hand into the front of Johnny's shirt and jerk him close, forcing the other to look into his eyes. ]

Gyro? That's the name, huh? Gyro. [ A derisive huff, not quite a laugh. ] Do I look like Gyro to you? ... some kind of friend you are to him, spouting all this shit to a total stranger. Gyro would be right to leave your useless ass in the dirt, with the way you're acting right now.

[ Sometime far in the future, the irony of him laying into Johnny like this when his own delusions drive him to make far worse mistakes will leave him sleepless at nights, but that's a problem for future him. In the moment, there's something almost cathartic about snapping this lower back to his senses, and Gen shakes Johnny by that grip at his shirt as he reels back his other hand. Does he need another slap? 'Cause he can do that. More than one, if necessary. ]

Look at me, and tell me. Am I the one you so badly wanna go to Kentucky with?

[comelately]

[ it's either a credit to Johnny's toughness or the power of the Innocence's influence that he doesn't cry out when he gets smacked in the face. He does, however, immediately fling one hand up to his now-sore cheek, glaring over at Gen with a retaliatory fire in his gaze, even as he's hoisted up like a jockey-shaped sack of potatoes. The anger is purely instinctual - a response to being hurt; the rest of him is still reeling in confusion, and getting hit only dazes him more. Why the fuck is Gyro hitting him now?

It's a good question. As is "Do I look like Gyro to you?" Now that he's staring at him, up close, it's more and more obvious that this isn't Gyro at all. In fact, he has no idea who this is - and the headache he's feeling is as familiar as the man in front of him isn't. He's remembering that he was sick. And while he's still a little too out of it to remember the Pleroma and Kenoma and everything else, Johnny's starting to realize that this is not America, and this guy is definitely not his friend.

In lieu of an answer, Johnny grunts, slapping one hand on the wrist holding him for support - and then, in almost the same instant, he launches an uppercut right at Gen's jaw with his other hand. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Motherfucker. He goes through the effort of snapping this loser out of his daydreams, and this is the thanks he gets?

Lucky for him and unlucky for Johnny, that slap at his wrist gives him just enough warning that the uppercut doesn't land perfectly on point. Instead, Gen manages to jerk his head back just enough that Johnny's knuckles glance off the underside of his jaw; the impact carries just enough force to snap his head to the side, his teeth clicking together, thankfully it won't leave much more than a small bruise and a dull ache for the following day.

Thankfully for Johnny, not Gen. Because if that blow had landed any more properly, Gen would have really made sure to get payback for it.

As it is, he only looks at Johnny with narrowed eyes for a moment, disdain coloring his expression as he gives an experimental shift of his jaw ... then abruptly gets up on his feet. The strong grip he maintains on Johnny's shirtfront means he, of course, is also getting dragged up along with Gen -- right until the moment Gen straightens to his full height, then simply drops him back onto the pavement. ]

[comelately]

[ is it a curse or a blessing that he mostly can't feel it when he lands hard on his ass? He's going to call it a curse, because the fried bits of his nerves that do catch the impact ache like a motherfucker, and that succeeds in choking a cry of pain out of him. If Gen hadn't already dragged him out of the dream, that probably would have done the trick. If nothing else, it brings him straight back to reality. Shitty, shitty reality, where he's stuck in some disease-ridden town with chicken feathers growing out of his skin and some guy he's never seen in his life tossing him on the ground after Johnny mistook him for Gyro. The tiny piece of satisfaction he gleaned from managing to land that hit is immediately outweighed by anxiety; he has no idea how much of what he said or did happened in reality, and he doesn't like that. ]

Fucking -- hell...

[ the throbbing remains, but it's dulling as time goes by; he lifts a hand to his cheek, knowing there's nothing to be done about his back, and squishes his eyes shut once before shooting his gaze up at Gen again. He's on the spot and he doesn't know how to feel, which means he goes to his default: defensive. ]

-- who're you? What d'you want?