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

Amos, you don't... please tell me you don't really mean that. You don't, do you?

[ 'The world isn't good enough.'

for just a brief moment, he can hear those sentiments echoed from far and away, as if from memory instead of from the man in front of him. it's a cruel twist of fate that history always ends up repeating itself. ]

Just what would you do...?

[ what would he do to 'fix' the world he finds lacking...?

Abel's heart seems to be beating faster in anticipation of the answer, his hands seeming so very cold for the nerves. even if it might be hopeless-- that desperate plea remains imploring in his eyes as if begging Amos to tell him anything but what he fears he is to hear. ]

[ The gaze Amos fixes Abel with is nothing but open and honest. It speaks for itself; he doesn't mince words. He doesn't say shit for the sake of it. He means every word he's said. Always has, always will.

He looks up at the second question, to the domed ceiling. Past it, maybe. He shuts his eyes for a moment, vaguely aware of the anxiety coming off of Abel, but unable to feel it himself. Now, all there is for him is peace. He's relaxed. He knows he has someone to follow, and with that, he doesn't have to worry about screwing up.

Amos opens his eyes, exhales, and looks back at Abel, as open and honest as ever. That's all he's going to get from him. ]

We gotta end everything first. [ There's nothing in his voice; a blank, emotionless slate. ] Tear it all down. Start fresh. I dunno how long that's gonna take, especially since worlds are already dying on their own. I mean, I know mine did. Probably a lot of them out there. [ He shrugs. ] But the voice said they were closer than ever. And we can help. We can make everything better. That's the right thing to do. So I'm gonna do it.

[ And then his voice softens; less instructional drawl, more imploring. ]

You can still help, too. I get it if you're scared. Just saying. The option's still gonna be there.

[ he isn't sure which is more disturbing... the sense of tranquility that Amos has gathered from his seeming pact with the Kenoma, or the calmness with which he can damn this world -- perhaps all worlds -- to what amounts to oblivion. 'we gotta end everything first.'

...'Igne Natura Renovatur Integra.'

whether it is because of the force that accompanies the wretched twist in his chest, or the visceral nature of his reaction-- there is no way that Amos won't be able to feel the ripple of a near manic, confusing twist of panic and an old, deep grief. ]

--Do you have any idea what you're committing to...?

[ there's an uncharacteristically firm edge in those words; they are not unkind, but they are undoubtedly carrying a steel that has been absent in Abel since that first day their paths had crossed by firelight. ]

Do you have any idea what you would see yourself becoming, Amos? I don't think you do, and I don't think it's what you want at all. It-- it isn't too late!

[ this time, the hand that reaches out and grips Amos's forearm is intentionally tight, just short of bruising; it remains just as imploring as before, but... this time, it is also like a tether. Abel cannot... cannot let this man resolve himself to this. he can't. ]

--You said you trusted me, didn't you? Then... please. Please trust me now when I tell you this isn't right. This isn't the way, it's... it will lead you somewhere you don't want to go, I promise you. --So stay here with me, alright? [ not above begging, no thought to pride nor shame-- his grip tightens further as he leans in, desperate to be heard. ] I-it's... it isn't too late...!

[ Everything about Abel is suddenly so different.

It hits Amos, the panic and grief seeping into him, just enough for him to blink in surprise, confusion crossing his features at the same time. The new tone of voice. The way Abel grips him, like it's for dear life.

Amos has to look away from Abel for a moment as he tries to absorb it all. Process it. The intense feelings, the words to go along with them. He looks down, at the hand squeezing him. Tries to look inward, make sense of all of these contradictions — what he intrinsically knows compared to what Abel is telling him.

He does trust him. So how could Abel have it so wrong?

For a long moment, Amos doesn't react. And then he reaches his conclusion. ]

You don't get it. [ He looks back up at Abel, confusion gone, replaced with his usual straightforwardness; a mild distress in his eyes. Abel's distress, but he might be repurposing it to fit what he knows instead. ] It makes sense when you accept it. Everything dies eventually; this is just getting to the natural conclusion, but in a way that we can control. We can minimize suffering. And then we can build it back better. Why wouldn't you want that?

[ It's a real question. He still hasn't tried to remove Abel from holding onto him; he won't, no matter how hard he grips. Amos knows he could separate himself at any moment. He just doesn't want to. ]

I'll stay with you, though. As long as you want me to. It'll be okay.

[ It is too late for him. It's been too late for him for decades. But Amos accepted that a long time ago, so he has no problems with taking his time here, however long Abel wants him around. Abel can call every shot in this moment, and Amos will follow his lead — except for this one thing. That one's done. ]

...What right do we have to play God? To judge for all of them what 'better' is, Amos? Do you have that power? I know I don't, and I don't know any man who does.

[ has the Kenoma fed on something that had been lurking deep inside Amos? it isn't as though Abel hadn't seen hints of a deep, cavernous maw inside this man -- something festering beneath the surface, something that spoke of pain, of trauma, of a disconnect. it makes a horrifying amount of sense that, when driven to his limits... Amos found comfort in the prospect of oblivion. a convenient end to all the things that don't make sense to him; a convenient promise to make it all right without ever having to wonder what that even means. ]

Who was it you trusted with your life, to show you the way back at home? You told me you had friends, you had people, didn't you...? --Please tell me that you don't see how wrong it is to judge them wanting, to decide they and everyone like them should disappear for the sake of a better world they'd have no part of...

[ He shakes his head. ]

I sure as fuck don't. I told you earlier that I have problems with right and wrong, yeah? That hasn't changed. It's just...

[ He pauses, frowning in thought. Decides to tackle the other argument first. ]

My people back home are dead. I know that. Felt that. So, kinda not relevant anymore. But, you know that voice you hear? You hear it, yeah? After the ritual bullshit. It's what knows. It's what wants to make everything better. The universe is completely broken, and they want to fix things. And we're gonna help. [ He tilts his head in thought. ] I'm pretty sure they're not a man, they're something more than that. Or at least a lot wiser than I'll ever be. I mean... they're not gonna lead us astray. They're not gonna do the wrong thing. This is all for the best.

[ It's so weird how people can't see that. Amos gets the hesitation to give in, won't begrudge anyone for it. But long-term, this is the way to go. It's better to just get it over with. ]

Even if they're gone... even if they were truly gone-- which I still don't believe, then... what I want you to do is to think of how many of us are here, Mr. Amos.

[ the priest's hands shift, clasp both of his friend's in his own. the grip is just as plaintive, just as imploring, just as desperate -- but the fervency is a little less panicked, slightly steadier as he levies for some sort of reason. ]

Even if someone... something were here who could make a new world... one they were to promise is just, and fair, and right. Do you know what those things mean to them? And could you tell me that sacrificing countless worlds with people-- people like your people-- is the right way to achieve that?

[ Amos looks down as Abel takes hold of both of his hands. His grip starts off loose, but slowly tightens in response. Nowhere near what Abel is giving him, unable to feel that level of desperation, but enough to recognize when somebody is supporting him. He can reciprocate that much.

He looks back up into Abel's eyes, searching them and ultimately finding earnestness and honesty. He really believes what he's saying.

It just doesn't make any sense to Amos. ]

It might be. Maybe we just don't have a full understanding of how deep the rot goes. I mean, I don't get how we can let a place like where I grew up exist if we can finally fucking do something about it.

[ He doesn't even notice it, the way his zen tone slips into something bitterly poisonous. He blinks, and he misses it, going right back to something contentedly empty, like they're just talking about a no-stakes logic puzzle. ]

They know enough to know what we got right now isn't good enough. And it's not. So they're already on the right track. [ Amos' gaze softens; he holds Abel's hands that little bit more. Connection, community. That's what the Kenoma is helping him with; this is the easiest way to express it right now. ] Not everyone's gotta be sacrificed, I don't think. They can join us. Help us. Be on the right side.

[ The you, too goes unsaid. ]

[ ...there isn't the faintest glimmer of hesitation nor doubt in Amos's eyes, no matter what Abel says.

it is then that he realizes that his pleas are falling on good as deaf ears. it isn't that Amos isn't listening -- no, his painfully earnest friend is listening to every word, but... it isn't reaching him. he has found and held onto this ideal so whole-heartedly that he cannot see anything else. he has to believe in this, is that it...?

the bitterness, the leak of some kind of acidic vitriol speaks volumes. maybe... Amos is not quite as concerned as what will happen next as he is living in the moment. someone promised to take the poison away and replace it with something better, gave him something he can hold onto. and for all Abel's flowery words about sticking together and watching one another's backs, it's... flimsy, isn't it? they had both ended up powerless through the ritual, and that had been that.

...what we got right now isn't good enough. Amos...

they can join us. ]

And... if they don't?

[ if there are those who aren't willing to join Amos and his new cause?

is he willing to draw a hard line in the sand...? is he really... willing, to... ]

[ It just makes sense. It's intrinsic. Tearing everything down to start fresh isn't something that would have ever occurred to Amos before, and that's part of the reason he thinks it's the right way to go. Because if it hadn't occurred to him of all people, then that's gotta mean there's merit to it.

It occurred to that voice. To the Regent. And for as much as Amos will look for people to follow, he was without his people for some time before waking up here. Has been free floating for far too long. As much as there are those he's met here who he likes, and who he trusts, they just can't compare to what he knows the Regent has.

So. That's that, then.

He holds Abel's gaze. Doesn't let go of his hands. And, honest and unbothered, with that exact same placid tone, ] Then they'll die.

[ It really is that simple. ]

[ those words, so very calm and spoken with the same neutrality as a declaration about the weather, has Abel feeling more than a little off-kilter. lopsided; light-headed.

his eyes shift from Amos's face to their entwined hands, something seeming very contradictory in the gesture, now. in a short amount of time... Abel has grown fond of this man. he sees that there's a deep, impressively gaping maw somewhere inside of Amos. but the priest doesn't believe it's endless, nor that it's swallowed up the goodness in this person. no, if it had-- if he were truly so far gone, then...

...Abel's grip becomes gentler. his smile is incessantly sad, and the waver, shiver of a sense of loss and failure, of guilt and a stubborn plea still manages to make it out of him, tangible whispers hinting at greater depths. ]

You'd make the world your enemy.

[ it really is... terribly and cruelly ironic. ]

...I know you feel it's too late to stop what's started. I understand that, and... I understand why you've gone this far.

[ though there is a heaviness in his eyes when they meet his friend's again, there is no hardness, nor distance. whatever this man has endured... it has left long-lasting, deep scars that have left him lost. as much as it hurts to acknowledge... it also explains a great deal. Abel cannot blame him. ]

Even if it ends up like this, then... I'll continue doing just as I promised, okay? I'll hope enough for both of us, 'til you're ready to join me.

[ hope in Amos, in his future-- in him until they can see eye-to-eye again. ]

[ Something shifts in Abel, and Amos doesn't get it.

He doesn't know what emotions he's picking up from him, just that he doesn't like them. If anything, they make him feel wrong. Like he really has messed up horribly, only he can't pick it up, his blindspot too great. That, and the part where Amos knows he hasn't done anything wrong. If anything, it's Abel who's on the wrong path — so why is Amos starting to feel fucked up about it?

A numbness seeps through him. It's what's usually there, and now it's time for it to return in full force. Though he still feels that guilt and that stubbornness, for some reason more receptive to them than anything else. The former is a kind of like speaking to like; the latter is... he's not sure.

(It's whatever part of him that Abel knows is buried deep down. It's just too deep for Amos to really know of it. There's something still in him, reacting just the way Abel would want it to; too bad it's easily ignored, brushed aside, done away with.)

His almost-smile is sardonic. ]

Kinda feels like the world was against me from the beginning. Fighting it wouldn't be anything new.

[ If anything, it's what's most natural.

He blinks at Abel saying he understands. That's... that's a new one. And it causes Amos to hesitate, maybe involuntarily tighten his hold on Abel's hands for a moment. He isn't someone who's understood. The Kenoma's going to help with that. But if Abel won't even accept it, and he still says he gets it... ]

Thank you.

[ He hadn't meant to say that. It just slipped out. Amos stops for a moment, surprised, and then offers what might actually be a real smile. Small, but real. ]

Yeah. I'm good with that. If that's what you think is best, then... yeah.

[ He still hopes Abel will figure it out; join him. What they're gonna do. But Amos is also well enough aware that there's nothing he can say right now that'll convince him, so he'll just take this for what it is.

Abel's not someone to close the door on, so he won't. ]

[ though understanding is all Abel can offer Amos in this moment, he has definitively vowed to himself that there will be a day he can offer Amos more. he doesn't care how long it takes; he doesn't care what he has to do to see it through: he is going to wake the parts of this man that have been buried, lay sleeping and dormant inside of him. he will not let the Regent take this one. not for good.

...it aches, a vicious and gnawing sort of feeling in his gut to resign himself to this temporary release. Abel cannot keep Amos here, would only sow further discord and unrest between them if he tried. and much as it hurts to think of what his friend might do-- willingly, and obliviously-- before he's roused from this waking nightmare... Abel has to bide his time. he will find a way to bring him back.

and he will be there to pick up the pieces when everything finally breaks, too. it is a horrible inevitability-- but one Abel has to believe in. much as he would not wish that sort of pain on anyone... sometimes, it is the only way to avoid something worse. ]

I know you might not understand me when I say this, but-- I really am on your side, Amos.

[ even if they end up 'enemies,' Abel will never view this man as anything but his friend. ]

If we end up having to go our separate ways, I-- [ ...God, he wishes it hadn't come to this. ] You can find me, anytime. No matter what you do or where you go, alright?

[ there is no line in the sand for Abel. ]

[ Feeling that level of pain coming from his friend is unpleasant. He just... doesn't get it, but it's strong enough to still come through. His own heart hurts for a moment, and accepting the Kenoma was supposed to stop that, this was all supposed to stop, so Amos is done with it now. He finds whatever it is he needs within him to shut down those strong emotions, and he does.

His smile remains, but there's more of an empty quality to it now. Like it's what he thinks Abel wants to see, so that's why it's there. Not because he's really feeling any of it.

(He is. He's just chosen to not recognize it.) ]

Sure.

[ It's not disbelieving, but it also just isn't much of... anything. Abel says he's on his side, so he's on his side. Sure. Why not There's nothing to debate there.

He glances in the direction of the cavern's exit when Abel mentions separate ways. That's the thing, they don't have to separate; Abel has just chosen that particular path. But that's his right. Again: nothing to debate there. He's just going with the flow.

Back at Abel, expression amiably empty for the most part. Amos nods. ]

Not sure how you can get out of this one. [ It's a simply stated fact more than anything else. Sky's up; also, to go up and get out of here, you gotta accept it. Exact same thing. ] But yeah. You know where I'll be.

[ Hopefully they can see eye to eye again soon, because this part sucks. ]

[ the emptiness behind that smile, behind those deceptively light and easy words is what truly gets him. the disconnect is far-reaching inside Amos; a man would have to be terribly and willfully blind not to see it, and the most tragic part is that Amos cannot see it inside himself.

slowly, the priest is loosening his hold on his friend's hands; though he is making no moves to let him go, the choice is and always will be Amos's to make. to stay; to leave... to take a path Abel cannot follow: these are all up to him. ]

I guess it's pretty obvious, but... I'm an especially stubborn sort of person, you know? [ the smile doesn't make it to his eyes, whatever lightness and levity not enough to pierce the veil of something much more sober and bereaved. ] 'Where there's a will, there's a way,' so the saying goes. So-- it will all work out, one way or another.

[ though it should be obvious that he is deeply concerned, apprehensive about what the future will hold despite his seemingly light words. will Amos try to stop him if he were to find a way out of here...? would he stop the others who refuse to accept the offer persistently thrumming through their veins?

...this detachment is dangerous, and not just to Amos. ]

[ Amos blinks, tilts his head at Abel, empty smile still on his face. This doesn't seem all that different from too long ago — when Abel first entered his world, doing everything he could to help him.

It's weird how much things have already changed. ]

Yeah. You are stubborn. [ Though, there's a hint of affection in his voice. Amos' expression may be empty, but it's hard to completely deaden his voice. Not something he's ever really gone for. ] If you say things are gonna work out, then I believe you.

[ That, or Abel's gonna get himself killed. ... Both seem plausible, but considering his current state after days in these caverns, Amos doesn't really see the need to bring it up.

He looks down at their hands; the way Abel is starting to let go, but isn't. And, well. Amos is good at that.

He lets go, bringing his hands to the ground, using them to push himself back up to stand. He looks down at Abel, offering him one last smile — though this time, there's some sadness in his expression. He'll let go of that emotion, too, soon enough, but first, he can offer this much.

And, ] Try not to die.

[ It's said sincerely, with the exact same cadence as I'll miss you. But also, you know. Please try not to die. ]

[ ...ah, Amos...

Abel almost-- almost-- doesn't stop himself from tightening his hands when he feels his friend beginning to draw away. but he knows that this is not something he can force for the other man: the choice has to be his own, and any attempt to take it away from him may do more harm than good.

but it doesn't make it any less painful. ]

I told you, didn't I? I'll be here, be around if you should ever go looking.

[ and he can't do that if he's dead, right? 'stubborn,' he'd said. stubbornly continuing onward, even if Amos doesn't know just how stubbornly enduring he is. ]

...So please take care of yourself, too. If you don't, I'll-- I will make you regret it.

[ If Abel's not gonna accept the Kenoma, not gonna come with him, then Amos has really got no choice but to let go. Otherwise, they're just prolonging... nothing. Which is kind of a waste.

He'll get over it soon enough. Especially when he doesn't know what Abel's fate is going to be, how he can possibly survive this.

... Amos is great at not being attached when he doesn't want to be.

A twitch of his lips, something that could almost be considered a soft laugh. ]

Sure. Will do.

[ A pause, far longer than necessary. He can tell Abel is being sincere in all of this, he's just not good at replicating it. Has never been good at goodbyes to begin with. Usually he just... leaves. This is a weird one for him, where he wants to get it right, isn't sure he can, knows it's not gonna matter soon enough anyway. ]

Seriously, don't die.

[ At least that's one sentiment he knows he means, fully and completely.

With that, Amos turns his back on Abel, leaving him behind. ]

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EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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