aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

The Empty Throne

DESCENT

Nearly two weeks after being dragged from shrine caverns, you hear along the grapevine that the "the throne room is complete." It doesn't take long to figure out what that means; the ritual grounds that you have been hearing mention of are finally prepared, and it's only a short while before you are once again being gathered together for travel. As a small mercy, at least this time the journey is short.

Through a passage that has been blocked by a gathering of soldiers for the entire length of your stay, a stairway is revealed to you. It leads deep into the ruins, through unfamiliar structures and into the bowels of the earth. Though your feel your are mostly going downward, the walk is still long on account of how many stairs their are, and the soldiers escorting you are restless. They are now being led by the stray, mask wearing Achamites that have been accompanying the group till now, silently observing. Whatever place this is, it seems that they now hold court.

Funneled into the chambers below, you are greeted by a massive, domed enclosure of stone. Positioned around its circular radius are twelve thrones in various states of disrepair, sized as if meant to seat giants. The backs of these thrones all differ slightly in design, though most have great cleaves of stone broken loose from their architecture, as if subjected to some great cataclysm. Each is engraved with a sigil, though some have been obscured by the destruction wrought. The throne closest to the entrance has been almost entirely demolished, making it impossible to glean much about.

The dome's ceiling appears to be hundreds of feet tall at its apex, its smooth surface disrupted by stalactites that puncture through its form like teeth. As a result, many chunks of the original structure seem to have cracked and collapsed in to the floor below. When examined closely, these fragments of the domed ceiling seem to be made of a material strangely reflective in quality, though caked in many years of dirt and grime. If large enough sections are cleaned, patterns may emerge, revealing designs that look almost like star maps. The floor beneath your feet as a similar, but subtly different quality, covered in wreckage and ruin but can be cleaned to reveal complex patterns of intersecting lines.

A careful eye will indicate that these lines all lead towards the center of the room - the one space that has been cleared and scrubbed prior to your arrival. Here, the lines converge, with carefully preserved marking in the stone that bely increasing levels of runic complexity the closer you look. This is where the ritual will be held, you are told.

THE RITUAL

There is not much time to regain your bearings before you are being shuffled forth towards the ritual space; no, all the waiting has already been done. Under the command of the smaller group of Achamites, the Hylicians will make heavy use of the whips in leading everyone to their places along the rune-inscribed circle. Before that, however, small cuts will be made to each prisoner with an athame, either on their hand or arm. With a sharp, burning sensation in the afflicted skin, these cuts will spread into wounds reflecting the image of one of the eleven sigils displayed on the thrones encircling the group, and matching the shrine they were originally pulled from.

With this accomplished, they can finally be taken into the circle. With a design comprised of four triangles overlapping, the design of an open eye carved at its center, all prisoners will be led to separates points on its design where the lines cross. Seemingly arranged by their shrine sigil to be closest to whatever throne represents them, they will be brought to their designated positions one by one. Any attempts to flee or disrupt the process will be dealt with swiftly and harshly, exacerbated by the increasing levels of paranoia and fear in the soldiers themselves. Whatever is being done here, they don't seem happy to involved with it either.

When everyone is in place, the seeming master of ceremonies will finally emerge. A dark haired woman will appear from the shadows, motes of golden light fluttering about her otherwise darkness-clad visage. Moving towards the center of the circle, she will stand over the marking of the eye and begin working her magicks. As if on cue, the soldiers will withdraw any remaining whips and scurry to the outside of the circle, only for new bonds of ethereal energy to lash out of the ritual circle itself, binding each and every prisoner and dragging them down to their knees. Among the soldiers, you can hear mutterings identifying this woman as "the Aion."

"Come," she says to the coterie of robed Achamites, who will approach the circle with an assortment of vials collected into cases. There is enough for each prisoner to be given a drink, and so they will; a vial of abyssal liquid will be forced into each one of your throats, no matter how uncomfortably it must be done. While no less ruthless, the Achamites have a different way about them as they work, forcing themselves upon you with a strange familiarity that feels more akin to a mother forcing their child to take medicine than the suspicious hostility of the soldiers. As the foul liquid touches your tongue, it takes on a consistency almost like a living thing, crawling down your throat even if you refuse to swallow, all while the Achamites stroke your hair and make saccharine assurances.

Once all the prisoners have been fed their vial, the Achamamites too will retreat from the circle - all except for one. Joining 'the Aion' at the center, the two of them will begin enacting a planned ceremony of sorts, that culminates in the following scene:

The Achamite kneels before the Aion, lifting their masked face to meet their dark gaze. They speak, in practiced tones.

"To the Kenoma my body, to the Kenoma my soul."

In response, the Aion holds the Achamite's face between their hands in almost a loving gesture. She speaks softly:

"By the blood of the Martyr, I accept your sacrifice."

From the Aion's hands a darkness spreads across the Achamite's body, as if they are melting and dissolving on a cellular level. She kneels along with them, cradling them as their body breaks down, pooling in a void-black liquid around their knees. It drains into the lines of the ritual circle, surging out towards the prisoners.

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

KENOMA SICKNESS

As this dark power surges throughout the ritual circle, you will find yourself almost consumed by the tide. Whatever foul creation you were forced to swallow wakes within your chest, and you can feel it move within your veins, inside you lungs, behind your eyes. As quickly as it begins, the flood of darkness washes over you, but not without leaving you stained.

Something has changed in its wake. As you return to your senses, you will notice the magical bonds of the circle have fallen away, leaving you free to move; for once, the soldiers will not move to lead or restrain you. Instead, the Hylicians warily back away from the ritual space, retreating towards the only path upwards, where they form a defensive line. The Achamites that linger make a series of ritual gestures, praying in voices too soft to hear. The Aion woman stands in the center, her hands blackened with residue from the person you just watched fall to pieces in her arms.

"You will be given time to find your truth," she says. "Use it well."

As you recover from the experience enough to stand, she and her Achamite entourage are already retreating to join the Hylician guard. Gradually, your situation will become clear: they intend to keep your trapped down here. However, it will not be the same as when you waited before. Instead, the soldiers simply intend to block your only exit out, and otherwise leave you free to roam the full diameter of the throne room, seemingly free to do whatever you want as long as it isn't trying to break free of the cavern's confines. Each day, they will offer to their prisoners a limit supply of food, water, and firewood, but nothing more. Beyond that, you only have your increasingly dirty white robes and the same bedrolls as before.

❖ COMMUNION
The first change you will experience is an itching darkness in your mind, like a psychic wound that is becoming infected. The sort of thoughts you would normally try to force down become increasingly hard to resist; despair, hatred, and fear will plague you, and requiring great feats of will to silence even temporarily. Phantoms of the things you'd rather forget will become a constant companion, all while a presence seems to whisper: when you accept your fate, the pain will stop.

Worse than this, the darkness of your mind may not remain private. As if awakened by the ritual, your empathetic sense has become impossibly strong, to the point that you feel the broadcasted emotions and thoughts of others, and in turn, your darkest thoughts will be psychically projected to others with a volume proportional to the intensity with which you feel them. This effect is most potent between those sharing Legacy, with the capacity for their identities to become momentarily confused. In all cases, this connection may bleed into your dreams, or manifest as hallucinations.

❖ TRANSFORMATION
Yet, your mind is not the only thing that ails. In proportion to the strength of your emotions, your body may begin changing to match your state of mind. Physical transformations akin to those mentioned here will begin to manifest, themed to your inner suffering and the most negative aspects of your self conception. These alterations may shift from moment to moment, depending on the turbulence of your emotional state. They may or may not be painful.

❖ AFFLICTION
Along with the above effects, characters may also experience various more mundane ailments; essentially anything traditionally associated with illness could fit. Weakness, nausea, body aches, and chills are all common options. Along with this, void-black ooze may start to trickle from virtually any orifice. While it may stain clothing and skin, the material itself will dissipate after a few minutes in a manner reminiscent of ectoplasm. This effect may also appear around your Shard, as if the stone itself has begun to bleed.

RESISTANCE

Even as the Kenoma threatens to overwhelm you, you still have the power to fight. Though it may be a grueling war of attrition, you can force back its advances with sufficient will to survive and resist the darkness. Of course, your captors are not going to make this easy for you. Those that fight hard enough to expel the Kenoma from their bodies and spirits will take at least a week to do so, and for that duration they will be trapped within this chilly cavern, haunted by their worst thoughts and emotions.

The bedrolls barely strand up against the cold, your clothing doesn't at all, and to be comfortable you'll require fire. Yet, there is a limited amount provided to you, along with food and water, and the soldiers do not seem to be making any effort to distribute it evenly. Achieving basic warmth and sustenance may become a battle against your fellow inmates, all while you struggle against the enemy infecting your body. Cracks in the dome of the cavern lead into some smaller caverns and crevasses in the stone that can offer some privacy or protection, but the more splintered the group becomes the less the supplies will hold up. Fortunately for you, neither the cold nor starvation will kill you, but it will make you suffer.

Yet, you may still persevere. As you fight back the Kenoma, something else will be cultivated in its place. Bit by bit, a comforting and warm presence will grow within you, gradually disrupting the maladies afflicting your body and mind. Your faith and perseverance has been rewarded with an attunement to the Pleroma, the Kenoma's cosmological opposite; given enough time, the Kenoma will be forced from your being entirely, in the form of void-black sludge. Only then will your power begin to shine through, the abilities of your past life slowly returning.

You must keep your guard. With or without otherworldly power, escape will be a struggle.

ACCEPTANCE

Or, you may choose the easy option. Maybe the Kenoma resonates with your history and emotions in a way that makes it seem like it isn't the enemy. Maybe the depths of your despair are too deep to escape. Maybe your simply lack the strength to fight. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, the Kenoma claims you. The more you let it in, the less it feels like a poison and the more it feels like strength. The darkness settles comfortably into the cracks and holes of your spirit, and you awaken to its power. You feel the change viscerally.

This world is not good enough, a voice seems to speak through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

Whatever effects you were suffering from the Kenoma's presence will fade away, and in its place, you will feel your endurance bolstered. The clarity is stark in comparison to the mire you were trapped in before. As the other prisoners suffer around you, the Aion woman from before and an accompaniment of a couple Hylician soldiers will approach you among the ruins, as if summoned straight to your location. She looks you over, her dark eyes impassive, and then asks:

"Did you feel it?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, your expression alone enough to assure her. She'll tell the soldiers that you are free to go, and that you are to be given a share of their food and a change of clothes. She'll escort you out of cavern and towards the upper ruins, where the soldiers and Achamites have set up camp. This feels natural to you, somehow, like you and her are on the same wavelength in a way that is hard to comprehend. She is like you, you sense. That dark power is within her as well.

She doesn't linger with you for long, but she will see that you are on your way before heading back to the caverns. She'll say that the voice you heard, that promise, was the Regent, the ruler of this land. They spoke of a power that could birth a new, better universe, and they weren't misleading you. It's within their reach, closer than ever, and if you help them achieve it you will be rewarded lavishly. For now, you are free to regain your strength while the others make their choices. She only asks that you stay in the area and be ready to join the Regent in Achamoth when all is prepared.

If you're prone to boredom, though, she will mention that you'd really be doing the prisoners a favor by convincing them to accept the Kenoma like you did. You could convince them with words, or by making their situations so unbearable they won't have a choice but to break. However you'd like. It won't be worse than what's coming for them if they carry on this way.

When she parts ways with you, you are left to your own devices. Somehow, you feel inclined to cooperate. After all, the Regent did have a point.

QUESTIONS

Are the involuntary transformations during the Kenoma sickness period temporary afflictions or permanent ones?
By default they are temporary, but characters can also keep a couple keepsake changes if you'd like! An Aion's physical appearance is something that is generally in flux, and so even if you keep something from this event, you can always alter it later.

What kind of supplies are going to be distributed to those who accept Kenoma and leave the caverns?
They'll be given food, water, and clothing. They'll be given more/better rations than they were as prisoners, but it's still the sort of food that is limited by the fact that they are out here on a mission. The soldiers will have some fresh meat from prey they've been hunting in the forest, and will generally be having a lot of stew-based food going. There are actual spices in it, though, so that's cool. This is all set up where the Hylicians are camping.

As for clothes, they will get a fresh set (including boots or shoes) and some soap to clean themselves up in the nearby creeks and ponds. Hylici has an aesthetic that leans towards ancient Greek/Roman, so while they won't have anything fancy with them, you are free to assume they are able to acquire anything in that general ballpark. They do also have pants, though. While it is now spring and Horos has a generally temperate climate, it can be chilly at night.

Will Pleroma attuned be able to escape once they've regained their powers?
Yes, they will be allowed to escape at that point, and a second log will be going up to cover that part of the event. This log should generally cover up until shortly after Pleroma start ejecting the Kenoma's influence. Characters are permitted to escape by their own power if they somehow devise a plan to do so, but as we know the Pleromas are at a significant disadvantage in this situation, some characters who have fought against the Kenoma particularly valiantly will be given some magical assistance to help the survivors escape.

Will the Kenomas be able to try to stop them?
Yes! The second log will be set up to contain some PVP, though given the Pleromas do need to escape, we ask that you play nice. There will be a battle, but it will be structured in the context of the Pleromas having to hold off the Kenomas long enough to escape, so it will be relatively brief.

Can we speak to "the Aion"?
Yes, she will be around for the full length of the event. All characters will have the chance to find her watching over the group whether they are Kenomas or soon to be Pleromas. She will not be that talkative, though, so anyone tagging her will have to lead the conversation. She will not make small talk. Martyrs will recognize her as one of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ IT IS TOO LATE

The uneasy smile on his face twists into something a little more amused. It's a back and forth that Dokja is well-versed in, and he has no trouble letting the words bounce right off of him. He's going to assume Eustace doesn't mean it, and if he does, then oh well. What's new in Dokja's life? ]

Hey, you were the one who sat next to me first.

[ Not on purpose, he's realizing that now, but it's still something he's happy to annoyingly point out. ]

And look, we're even having a decent conversation.

[ Decent??? ]

[ Dokja needs to rework his definition of 'decent' here.

And Eustace needs to rework his future plans of avoiding Dokja at all costs, his already feeble will to live shriveling even further. Maybe this is the final nail in the coffin that gets him to join Kenoma.

He doesn't even bother looking at Dokja as they converse (""converse""), opting instead to stare straight ahead as he folds his arms tightly in front of his chest and pretends that doing such a thing will warm him up. (It doesn't.) ]

You must not talk to many people if this is your idea of decent.

[ Who's he to talk though, when he talks to even fewer people?? ]

[ Please, Eustace is being bracket text dramatic. Dokja's just having a good time? And by trying to have a good time, what that actually means is that he's trying not to freeze to death.

At least he has his good buddy here to keep his mouth running. That'll be the last part of him that ices over. ]

You're right, [ he says, a little too shamelessly. ] So I'll take what I can get.

[ It really is starting to get unbearably cold, though... And desperate times call for desperate measures. ]

Hear me out... Don't kill me for what I'm about to suggest, okay?

[ can't believe dokja is so shameless and all he's gotten for his troubles is getting beaten up twice by gen.....it really does pay to be cool and aloof

Anyway, despite what his chilly exterior might bely, Eustace is not a man to immediately reject a proposal from someone he dislikes without at least listening to it once. Dokja might be annoying and quick to run his mouth, but there's a little pocketful of knowledge he possesses that might still be useful yet. Worth at least hearing what he has to say.

He sits up a little straighter, arms folding a little tighter around his body as he stares dead ahead. ]

Fine. I won't kill you until after I've heard it.

[ 🤔 ]

[ It's three times now.

Wow, it's kind of unnerving how similar Eustace is to another man Dokja knows, threats on his life and all. Maybe that's why he feels weirdly comfortable around him and like he can say just about anything, which is how he lands himself in this position. ]

What if we... huddled together? For warmth.

[ 🥴 And then what?

As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he regrets it. Out of all the people in this cavern, this grumpy jerk is who he had to suggest this idea to? Dokja is truly not thinking straight, but it's too late. It's out there now. ]

[

bro is this guy for real ]

[ What if he.......just got up and walked away right now? ]

[ Just kidding, he's still too tired and cold to go anywhere.

Practically speaking, it's not a terrible idea. Without spare blankets or additional clothes, body warmth is all they have. Whatever scraps of firewood they'd been given have long since been used, and even if they had tinder and flint to start a fire with it's not as though they have anything to burn. (Outside of their clothes, but Eustace doesn't hate Dokja nearly enough to make him suffer through the indignity of huddling in the cavern naked.)

Realistically speaking though.....Eustace stares at Dokja, eyelids lowered. ]

Surely there's someone better you could have picked.

[ Like literally anyone else here. But that's not a no....... ]

[ He wouldn't huddle in the cavern naked under any circumstance??

Look, Eustace isn't his first choice, but the idea had sprung up just now and he'd suggested it to the person sitting nearest him. Sometimes that's how it be. Trust him, he feels silly asking about this at all. ]

If you don't want to, I can ask someone else.

[ It's not like he's going to force someone to share body warmth with him! Also he's come across Eustace enough times that he's a better pick than a random stranger. Imagine how poorly that request would go if he didn't know the other person. ]

I just figured since we're already here...

[ In the time it takes for Dokja to explain his paltry reasoning, Eustace is pretty sure his entire body drops another degree after a second round of chills. So much for gritting his teeth and bearing it. Of course, the colder he gets the more tolerable the suggestion becomes, until it finally tips over to the side of plausible.

He sighs once, a short exhale of breath, before replying. ]

Fine. But if you say anything about this I really will kill you.

[ Gotta maintain his Cool Outer Image(TM) and all that, y'know. ]

[ It was Dokja who had suggested this idea, so why is it that he's surprised by Eustace agreeing to it? Well, it's fine. They're only doing this to stay warm, after all.

Without making eye contact, Dokja picks himself up and shuffles over to Eustace's side before sitting back down. There's still some space left between them so he scoots over a little closer... until they're shoulder to shoulder...

And that's about it? He can't seem to commit anymore than that?

This is truly an awkward, depressing sight, Dokja's whole body tense like he's one wrong move away from fleeing back to where he'd been sitting before. If this chill doesn't kill him, the embarrassment will. ]

[ Bro? Hello?? What is this weak half-assed cuddling shit?

He can barely feel the press of their shoulders together even after Dokja's awkward shuffling, and the lukewarm follow-through after such a bold suggestion prompts another burst of annoyance.

Without bothering to ask, he lifts an arm and loops it over Dokja's shoulders, pulling the other man close until they really are pressed up against each other. Despite the chill of their skin on the outside, it's easier to feel the low but steady heat that radiates from the other man now that they're much closer than before. It's embarrassing to huddle like this, sure, but easier to live through embarrassment than it is to live through hypothermia. ]

Don't suggest things if you can't commit to them.

[ His voice remains as frosty as it was before despite their body heat meme-ing. -1 respect point for Dokja, sorry. ]

[ How is there a minus one point when there weren't any respect points to begin with... Oh, fuck, he's in the NEGATIVES.

Okay, look. Dokja's out of his element here, and while he can put on a front and pretend to be brazen, this is different. He doesn't even know Eustace so it shouldn't matter? But it does... It does in that it feels weird to be in close proximity with another body and it's weirder still that he's relying on another person.

Absolutely sickening for a man who does everything on his own!

When the arm loops around his shoulders to pull him in closer, Dokja freezes and has to fight his initial urge to pull away. He stays stock-still against Eustace, gaze trained downward and this goes on for too long before he starts forcing himself to relax. ]

I was going to...! You just beat me to it.

[ A very obvious lie. ]

[ Regardless of how Dokja feels about their current predicament, Eustace is unwavering in his resolve, now that he's committed to this (extremely embarrassing) huddling. His arms stays firm around Dokja's shoulders despite the tension radiating off the man, a heavy weight to add to the all the other burdens Dokja's no doubt carrying around. ]

If you're going to lie, come up with a more believable excuse.

[ Going to , his ass. Maybe in another ten years after they'd both become a corpse rotting in the dirt.

Anyway, he is perfectly content (?) sitting here in awkward silence, staring dead ahead at anything (and anyone) that isn't Dokja. Hope Dokja loves listening to the sound of other people coughing and puking because Eustace is not about to fill the air with the sound of his charming (????) voice. ]

[ Uhhhh the silence is actually a thousand times worse, thanks.

But Dokja can't deny that this is staving off the cold (good job, self, for this 5head suggestion) and he draws his knees up toward his chest, tucking his hands in the space between to warm them up. Normally, he'd be just fine with sitting in silence, but that can't be the case here when he's leaning against another person while they're holding on to him.

Also, it's super gross hearing the people around them being sick, and all it does is remind Dokja of how sick he still feels, bile starting to rise in his throat. He needs a distraction. ]

This is sort of fucked, right?

[ ... Great start, Dokja. ]

[ Congrats, Captain Obvious, for stating the.....well, obvious.

As far as conversation starters go it ain't great, but considering that Eustace's idea of a great conversation is radio silence, Dokja gets a gold star for his paltry efforts. Not from Eustace though, of course, whose exhaustion with the situation at hand can probably be felt from a mile away. He barely moves at the question, gaze sliding over to stare at Dokja out of the corner of his eye with (you guessed it) deep disdain. ]

What makes you think that?

[ The sarcasm. There's so much of it. ]

[ Nope, that's an invitation to talk!!

Dokja's so used to being looked at like he's Nothing that Eustace's gaze has zero effect on him. In fact, it's nice to have something so familiar?? in this otherwise completely unfamiliar place. ]

Mostly having to do this when it's clear you'd rather rip my face off.

[ Steamrolls right on over that sarcasm. ]

But the whole "make us suffer to give in" strategy isn't great either.

[ Okay first of all, he would never do something so horribly messy as rip Dokja's face off. Choke him out, maybe, or even deliver a well-placed punch to the gut, but ripping a man's face off? No thanks.

Second of all....there's no second of all, just a short sigh in reply. ]

They don't need great if they have numbers on their side.

[ Would another method have secured their loyalty better? No doubt, but somehow he doubts that preserving their comfort is high up on the tier list of a nebulous enemy intent on wiping out and reshaping the entire world. ]

[ He's gone through enough choking and punching... Let's get creative, team.

Dokja loses himself in thought for a moment, leaning a bit more of his weight against Eustace in the process without realizing. ]

I guess so.

[ He doesn't sound all that committed to the response, though, and his eyes flit over to Eustace's face before they're quickly looking away again. ]

You're not going to give in, are you?

[ Just two guys huddling in a cavern together while wearing dinky little medical gowns, zero feet apart, probably really gay.

This whole situation would be a lot cuter of either of them had a shred of positive affection for the other, but unfortunately the air that hangs around them is full of misery and disappointment. Most of Eustace's initial animosity has faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and unhappy resignation. He turns his head around at the question, expression more disinterested than it should be given the internal (and probably external) war that rages on. ]

Does it matter if I do?

[ He's never cared about the judgement of others and he's not about to start now. Maybe it'd even be better if he did give in, just to give this guy another reason to find him lacking. ]

[ oh right NO HOMO okay it's not gay anymore.

But there's no judgement here, just pure selfishness. Dokja would rather the people he's gotten to know (as little as he does know about Eustace) to stick around... It hasn't been that many days since the ritual, but he can already tell not everyone in this cavern will be in it for the long haul. ]

Well, I probably don't have anything to say to convince you not to.

[ Considering how this sickness has been working so far and how specifically tailored it is to the individual, Dokja's not about to preach to anyone on what's wrong or right. ]

But I'm not going to give in, so... I thought it would be nice if you felt the same.

[ Wow, amazing what two simple words can do to change the entire mood!!!

There's something almost cute about what Dokja says next, even if the words hadn't been intended that way. It's as though they're two friends sitting together right before a momentous occurence, trying to cobble together a promise for the future. Cute, but not for him.

He doesn't even have the energy to be affonted at the suggestion. At least his body is ever-so-slowly warming back up. ]

We're not friends. Save the sentiment for someone who actually cares about you.

[ Yikes.

But truthfully, things are better off that way. He's not a guy worth anyone's time or energy and Dokja, while loud and obnoxious, doesn't seem to be an inherently bad person as far as Eustace can tell. Better for everyone involved if he finds someone else willing to humor his odd requests. ]

[ The expected response. Dokja isn't even a little bit fazed by it, though a wry smile spreads across his face.

What a stoic bastard. ]

Ha... Of course not. Who'd be friends with a jerk like you?

[ Still, there's no bite to his words, just an all too natural resignation. The concept of having friends is so foreign to Dokja that he actually prefers... this. It's familiar, it's safe. It's what he knows how to navigate.

Even if he'll be slightly disappointed if he sees Eustace leave this place with the soldiers. ]

This was a good idea, right? [ He clumsily changes the subject, nudges the other man's shoulder with his own. ] Admit it.

[ Really can't believe how averse to making/having friends the both of them are....this is miserable. But hey, both of them are used to being miserable, and Eustace doesn't even bat an eyelash at the tame insult. It's true and he knows it.

This whole situation is also miserable, even if Eustace is starting to warm up—but only physically and not emotionally. Despite the arm still wrapped around Dokja's shoulder, he tenses a little, pulling his own shoulder in a bit as much as he can. It's the principle of the thing (being offended) and not so much the action (since they're glued together). ]

You really like hearing the sound of your own voice, huh?

[ Sorry, he's not here to indulge in Dokja's praise kink today. ]

[ WHAT PRAISE KINK

But gosh!! Excuse him for trying to make this less awkward for the both of them (really, it's just Dokja who feels awkward). What's he supposed to do, sit here in complete silence with Eustace's arm around him? Let it get quiet enough that the voices start returning in his head?

Hard pass. Just the thought of having to go through that again is enough to unpleasantly churn his stomach. ]

I'm providing us with a much needed distraction.

[ Eustace should be GRATEFUL for the free service. ]

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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