EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

[aionmods]

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.

Comments

amos burton | the expanse | lover

[baltimores]

> kenoma sickness
(cw: allusions to past csa)

[ He'd thought all of the talk of ritual was about human sacrifice. This is so much worse.

After an attempt at resisting is swiftly and brutally brought to an end, Amos retreats into himself, as he had during the first journey from the shrine. The vial forces him back into the real world, and while at first he gags, as he becomes more aware of the sensations he's feeling he finds himself leaning into the Achamite's touch. It's instinctual, a muscle memory from decades ago coming back to the surface, and it. Almost makes things better.

He watches with blank eyes as the Achamite's body breaks down before him, feeling nothing.

And then he feels everything, and he screams.

Communion is hell. Amos has spent a lifetime learning to cut off his emotions, cauterize them, bury them so deep down they're unrecognizable to him. And now everything has come back to the surface, and it's too much. He's beyond terrified, and it seeps off of him in waves, leaves him hunched in the fetal position, head tucked into his chest. If his body is shaking, it's either from the chills that come with affliction or with sobs — or both.

Whenever he takes a chance at looking up, he sees. Himself, in a basement. This is nothing more than a different kind of basement. And shadowy figures, much bigger, much stronger, approaching him as they come back in. Again, and again, and again. He whimpers, and tries to retreat back into himself, and finds he can't. Not anymore.

It's in those moments he raises his head that small transformations should be visible — eyes completely blackened, possibly drawing attention to how his skin has started to go a little grey as the blood in his veins blackens as well. It keeps his eyes deadened, but with his body language and the force he feels everything he thought he never would again, it's impossible to deceive anyone, least of all himself.

He doesn't even make an attempt for any supplies, all of his energy spent trying to suppress everything that he no longer can. Wasting away seems like a much better idea. Until he hears those whispers, and — he accepts what's happening to him. Again. There's no other choice, it's best to just go with it, so he does. ]


> acceptance

[ He feels amazing.

It's not the best he's ever felt, but compared to where he just came from, it's beyond incredible. Amos leans into that feeling of endurance, of returning strength, of what feels like. Community. Understanding.

His eyes go back to normal as he ascends from the caverns, though his skin stays a little greyed, a slight desaturation. He practically inhales the food he's given, and otherwise, he'll sit back, grateful to be away from all of that. He might catch the eye of someone else resting in the camp, and nod at them. ]

If I ever have to go through anything like that again, it'll be too fucking soon.

[ But he doesn't, not now at least. And the suggestion that he can help others leave that feeling behind strikes a chord in him, so Amos agrees to go back down.

He might approach someone still in the thralls of it and, looking — feeling — much better than he had the last time he was down here, meet them on their level. Crouch down if they're on the ground, stay standing if they're still upright. Make eye contact. And, voice soft; gentle; earnestly, painfully sincere, ] You don't have to keep doing this. It's a lot easier if you just give in to it.


> wildcard

[ or whatever! arii#6412 or cadiai for any plotting. ]

acceptance

[goldendeceiver]

[ It's rarely immediate, but Ernesto has seen a number of people make the exact decision that Amos has already made, to give into the voice now whispering venom from inside of them, and to beat a hasty retreat to the promise of more comfort and ease.

It's funny, because something about this all rings painfully familiar to Ernesto, and he'd picked to stay on the side that would leave him miserable and struggling then too. The difference was he struggled to understand if he was doing the right thing or not then, while he's relatively sure that logically he knows what the right thing is in this case.

The problem is the wrong thing seems so much easier right now.

That's probably why his laugh sounds so broken and bitter when Amos comes to crouch in front of him, making such a heavy choice sound simple and easy. The smile looks more genuine than his laugh sounded though. ]

It probably would be, but I guess I'm more stubborn than I realized.

[baltimores]

[ The choice is simple and easy, is the thing. Either you stay sick and miserable for no reason, or you make it all go away. Amos truly doesn't understand why anyone is still resisting. It's not how you survive.

Then again, even as he feels the Kenoma settle within him and the clarity it brings, Amos remains cognizant of the fact that his judgment has always been off. Even if it's too late for him — and when hasn't it been, really — he has no problem hearing others out.

Ernesto's broken laugh earns a lightly furrowed brow, a tilt of his head. He thinks he gets the smile, though. ]

No probably. It is. [ He speaks with the conviction of a new convert because, well. Except his following question is curious, like he knows Ernesto has answers he'd never once considered: ] What do you get out of fighting it?

[goldendeceiver]

[ Nothing in Ernesto's life has ever been simple for him, and this particular choice is going to be added to that list. It does sound simple when put into those terms though; you give in and you get a little relief.

The problem boils down to what you have to give into, doesn't it?

Ernesto stares at Amos' face for a few seconds, considering the question more carefully, before his smile takes on an amused quality. ]

Peace of mind.

[ The irony of that statement does not miss him at all. ]

Acceptance

[hippocarnival]

[It's just as well it's impossible to tell the days down here, because every hour seems to blur together as he tries to hold off the sickness coursing through his body. He's curled up with his back to one of the thrones, a small section of bread in one hand he's been tearing small pieces off. It's the only thing he can manage to keep down.

He looks up only once Amos speaks, weary. He sounds almost... kind, and it forces Yuya to avert his gaze again.]

I don't really want to give them what they want, after all this. [It sounds petulant, the way he mumbles it out. It's a lot more torturous than that, but if he admits how much it's making him suffer out loud won't it be all that harder to resist?]

[baltimores]

[ Kindness isn't something that comes naturally to Amos even in the best of circumstances, which these decidedly are not. But he's capable of making an effort when he wants to, and with Yuya. With someone younger. He really, really wants to.

He frowns as Yuya looks away, but doesn't press that matter further. He's talking, at least, and that's going to have to be good enough, at least for now. Petulant, sure, but it almost reminds Amos of someone from back home. Who's dead now. Because he felt that, weeks ago, when they were all first brought to... wherever this is.

So, on some level, he thinks he might get it. That instinct. He doesn't understand it personally, but it's not a totally foreign concept.

Amos sits, intending to stay. His voice remains gentle. ]

Sometimes it can't exactly be helped. All you can really do is ride it out, try not to drown along the way. [ A beat. ] Drowning doesn't help anybody, least of all yourself. You don't get anything out of it.

[hippocarnival]

[... Yuya takes a heavy breath, swallowing down the nausea. He doesn't do a lot of helping anyone does he, anyway? It's usually him who needs to be helped up.]

What did they say to you? About... this.

[Maybe at least Amos has some answers for him. Something to make sense of all this outside the waves of anguish and hatred he tries to keep in.]

acceptance

[velvetoversteel]

[ Quite honestly, Moiraine looks awful and she knows it. Entirely aside from the fact that she hasn't bathed or changed clothes in weeks, she looks drawn, haggard, eyes over-bright with fever. She's standing up, at least, but leaning heavily on the cavern wall and looking as if her legs might stop holding her up at any moment.

She hadn't seen Amos leave, but she sees him come back, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. For a moment his words baffle her, and then she realizes -- and can't help the flicker of an emotion she doesn't often feel these days. Disappointment. It might even show in her eyes a little, weary as she is and without her usual steely self-control. She had thought, briefly, that he might have made a good Warder. It is not to be, it seems. ]

I will not. [ Her self-control might not be steel, but her determination is; there's no give in the words. ] You-- [ And she stops, cut off by a round of coughing. A trickle of black liquid drips from the corner of her mouth; she wipes it away with her fingers, a gesture that looks as if she's done it several times already. Moiraine inhales after, reins her composure back in. ] You cannot imagine the price you will pay. The price they will make you pay.

[ There is always, always a price for willingly going to the Darkness, no matter what you're offered. Wealth, luxury, power and position -- bait for one's own inevitable destruction. ]

[baltimores]

[ She's a far cry from the royalty he'd guessed she was, back when they'd all been waiting, when she'd gotten him to eat something again. Then again, they've all seen better days. The difference for Amos now is he knows better days are right around the corner.

So the disappointment he sees in her eyes has him completely baffled. He's speaking the truth. He's always known his judgment tends to be faulty, but here, he's right. Why is someone he'd thought so level-headed, so realistic, making things so much harder on herself than she needs to?

He waits through Moiraine's coughing, only a mild look of distress crossing his features as she gets it all out. She doesn't have to do this, why is she doing this.

Her words only increase his confusion before a realization dawns on him. And then he goes blank. Empty. ]

Moiraine. They can't make me pay anything. Anything I ever had that might've been worth a damn, I lost a lifetime ago. [ And then his words turn earnest. Maybe even a little pleading. ] You don't have to keep fighting like this. You really don't.

[velvetoversteel]

[ He doesn't understand. He truly doesn't, and she could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. Moiraine sighs, shuts her eyes for a second -- she really is very tired -- but she looks back up at him a moment later. ]

There is always more they can take. Things you don't realize you will need until they're gone. Oh, they will offer you power, prestige, safety and strength -- if you do what they require of you. The depravities I have seen people commit who have sworn themselves to the Dark--

[ She has to struggle to suppress another fit of coughing; she manages it barely, wheezing a little in her throat. Perhaps Moiraine is simply extrapolating from what she has seen in her own world -- but she cannot believe this will be any different. ]

Acceptance

[regretsor]

[The despair and suffering the regressor has been feeling comes out so oppressively. It isn't just one lifetime, but multiple. The man had suffered more tragedies than a normal human should have suffered. Witnessed.

Still, he looks at the other from where he's lying and clicks his tongue. For someone who is currently lying on the ground, he sure still manages to give a nasty glare and an unimpressed look.

Amos isn't the only one who suffered some physical alterations. Black wolf-like ears twitch and swivel towards their voice. Gold eyes are boring into the man speaking to him. Despite the obvious exhaustion in the other, he seems to be too stubborn to refuse giving in.] Easy doesn't get me where I want. [Defiance still burns in his eyes no matter how clouded by grief and suffering.] I don't trust some bullshit uttered by beings that want to make us playthings.

[baltimores]

[ The look, the borderline hostility don't really make a dent in Amos. He kinda gets it. Doesn't know how he'd be reacting if he was still going through it this long, so he's not gonna blame anyone for their responses to him.

Though the defiance earns a tilt of his head, a raised eyebrow. Seems kinda misguided, but hell, they all cope in their own ways. ]

Don't see any way you're not still their plaything. [ He nods in his direction. ] Can you even fight like that? There's nothing wrong with easy if it gets you out of here.

[regretsor]

If they're so wanting for us to give in then there are reasons why that they don't want us to struggle. [If they were just going to die by not relenting, then he was sure it would have been said so. Even then, death isn't even something he fears at this point. He had "died" twice now. He had been at the cusp of it more than a few times.

There's still a fire that burns in those gold orbs as he shifts to move to a sitting position. A click of his tongue.] Of course. I've been in worse states. [He doesn't know who had been overwhelmed by his emotions before. Who had heard his thoughts and despair. He abhorred the thought that he had psychically conveyed such moments of weakness. Regressing. The wish for death (no, he wanted to live).]

And what happens when I get out of here? What's waiting for me out there? [Food? Clothes? He has lived through the discomforts of an apocalypse and the cruelty of scenarios that wiped out the weak for long enough that such things didn't entice him in anyway. He didn't have interest in gaining strength that wasn't brought by his own hands.]

camp

[epiprocta]

[ Amos catches him when he's just barely emerged from the cave, his mind still coming to terms with everything as he mostly stares blankly into one of the campfires, and Gen flinches in response to that casual comment. Then immediately bristles a touch, hating that he'd been caught off-guard. ]

Don't even joke about it. 'm never dealing with that bullshit again.

[ A sullen mutter before he takes a sip from the bowl of broth one of the guards had given him; he still feels a little too gross and nauseous to eat anything proper, but at least this helps soothe his nerves. He hasn't changed yet either, the fresh set of clothes bundled in his lap, and Gen shifts to angle himself a little closer to the fire. Shivering slightly despite the warmth when he recalls exactly what had happened down there. ]

... wish they'd let us leave. Don't wanna be around here any longer than necessary.

[baltimores]

[ He huffs something that could be considered a sign of amusement at Gen's first remark. There's really nothing funny about it; it's true. Sure as shit was up there as one of the worst experiences of Amos' life, and he's had more than his fair share already. Maybe it's in the blunt honesty of it.

Amos turns back to his own stew, just plain enjoying it. It feels nice, actually enjoying something again. Life's simple pleasures. He's still here, and so are they.

Gen'll sort himself out when he's ready. Amos had.

Though he does look back up when Gen speaks again. Glances at the entrance to the caverns not too far away. ]

Wouldn't make sense for us to stay here forever. I figure we'll go when they think we're good to. I still feel kinda crappy, and besides — just being up here is a fuck of a lot nicer.

[ Amos sighs, eats another spoonful, looks back up at Gen when he's swallowed. He speaks with sincerity, conviction. ]

We're okay here. We're fine now.

kenoma sickness

[eolja]

[Seonho finally breaks -- at some point. He's not sure when exactly, but he accepts the hand that they're being relentlessly pushed forward to, and the sickness vanishes as quickly as it came on.

A part of him wonders at these methods, with no small amount of scorn. But they're clearly effective, seeing as they've worked on him. He'll crouch in front of Amos, studying the man's blackened eyes and grey skin, his listless demeanor.

He doesn't have anything prepared -- no speech, no words of persuasion. Nothing besides the bottle of water he holds up to Amos' lips.]

[baltimores]

[ It takes a long moment for Amos to recognize there's someone else there with him. His first instinct should be to flinch back; he doesn't, beyond even that much.

It's not like his vision is impaired; he just. He's barely even here in this moment. All he knows is there's a figure looming in front of him, and—

His eyes can't light up with recognition at the water, but his awareness should be evident as he sits up a little straighter before leaning forward, into it. It's the first thing he's had since whatever was in the vial, and it doesn't wash any of it away, but it still does feel nice as it goes down his throat.

Amos almost feels like a statue coming back to life. He inhales, chest rising and then falling as he does, before peering up at Seonho proper.

Another prolonged moment as he remembers where he is again, and, voice rough from disuse, ] Thanks.

kenoma sickness

[aquaveiled]

[ In the times that she finds peace--far and few in between as the days go by--Himeka looks outward. Exhausted from the torrent of doubts and failures, of watching her family slowly decay and starve in front of her, of facing off against every person she's cut down without a second thought, Himeka feels numb at times. Blessedly numb.

But not everyone is that lucky. She sees the same man she had walked that path of darkness in her dreams--spotted him a few different times since they arrived but he seemed to mostly keep to himself. Now, though, pulled in curled in on himself, even numbed Himeka can still feels pangs of empathy. She can't see someone suffering and simply let it happen.

She cautiously steps over, the chest of her tunic stained with inky blackness from where the kenoma has been bleeding out of the shard embedded in her chest, streaks of that very same blackness running down her cheeks.

Tentatively, she reaches out a hand. ]

...It's alright--whatever it is you're seeing--...

[baltimores]

[ He starts at the hand he sees coming towards him, nearly falling back as he finds he doesn't even have the strength to scramble, to try to get away.

It comes to him in quick and fractured moments, like a jump cut thrown together without rhyme or reason. The hand isn't that big. The hand is asking permission, not taking. The hand is connected to someone who looks vaguely familiar. He recognizes her.

Amos manages to stay upright, though he keeps himself low to the ground, staring up at Himeka through blackened eyes. They don't impact his ability to see her — not now that he's suddenly been jerked back here — but they might make it difficult to tell what, exactly, he's looking at.

It's her, though. She has his full attention now. He remembers her from the dream, how she'd come with him, how he'd appreciated that.

And then he shakes his head, a small, jerky movement. ]

It's not. It's— [ He takes a deep breath, for all the good that it does. Which is none. ] It never was. I can't— I can't live this again.

gently wildcards

[semicharmed]

[ Matt has finally, finally had a bath, and he feels like a whole new person. (In a sense, maybe he is. Baptisms and ablutions and all that.) In his new clothes, he looks a bit like he lost a fight with a bedsheet, but that's only because he doesn't know how to make hipster tousle translate to draped fabric.

The realest difference, though, is in his posture. There's a lightness to his bearing, like a golden string extends from the top of his head and into the atmosphere. He has his powers back--he has his purpose back. A reason for all this pain, and a path out of it. ]

Hey.

[ He brightens as he recognizes Amos, though with a hint of an uncertain flicker as he remembers certain vampiric nightmares he was involved in. ]

Are you going back down?

gently holds

[baltimores]

[ Whatever the equivalent of wearing these clothes as just a plain shirt and pants, Amos has found it. Something basic and easy, except he's probably gonna want to get this shit fitted sooner or later because the drapes are kinda annoying.

His eyes brighten in recognition when he sees Matt. Brighten that much more when he sees the way Matt carries himself now. Amos ignores the flicker. It's not important. He made it out. They both did. And Matt looks all the better for it.

Amos figures it translates to him, as well. Maybe not in the same way, but he isn't hunching in on himself anymore. He exists in his body like it's his own, new accessory in the form of whatever darkness that's made itself home in him and all. The casual sort of confidence you carry yourself with in your day-to-day, simply by knowing who you are. ]

Hey. [ He nods. Almost smiles, but for the question, which instead earns a thoughtful twitch of his lips as he glances back at the cavern's entrance. ] Yeah. Not yet, but... I dunno. Maybe in a day or two. That woman said we could help them. There were some people that helped me on the way here, and I don't see them up here yet. Maybe I can return the favour.

[ It's genuine altruism on his part, which is... kinda new. Not totally, but Amos doesn't usually recognize it this easily. It's part of what has him convinced he's made the right call. That he feels this way can't be a bad thing.

And then he offers something that could be considered a smile. ]

It's way better seeing you like this.

acceptance

[dragon_rider]

[ Hiccup's tired in a way that made him feel like the end was near — Not the actual end of whatever this is. No, but his bones feel numb. Lack of food and sleep leave him shaky on his feet and he chooses to remain standing instead. He can't sit still anymore than he has before — if he's fallen he chooses to just sit for a bit instead and then get right back up.

The stress of everything is enough to drive even madmen insane he thinks to himself — Maybe that's the point. Drive them to insanity. Certainly, it's to break them to do what they want. It's that fact that makes him struggle the hardest: Why? Supposedly, that's an answer they're leaving them to figure out themselves. An answer some of their number have succumbed to. The man before him now isn't the first to come down and try to convince others to accept — he wouldn't be the last either. ]

[ Hiccup's leaning against the cave wall, arms folded and good leg leaning against the back. It's as much to keep himself standing as it it to keep an eye on things. When the man speaks, words filled too sweetly of sincerity Hiccup offers a short laugh: ] And what waits for us out there?

[ His head jerks to point upwards to where the others had been scaling: ] If the decision's such a great one they wouldn't have to go through all this now would they?

[ His hand waves over the room to exemplify 'this' needlessly. No, if there wasn't something more to it they wouldn't need to go through such lengths. That's something he firmly believes. ]

[baltimores]

[ Amos tilts his head at Hiccup's answer. At his everything, really. The way he's still keeping himself upright even though he'd clearly be better off at least resting. The defiance, the snark. The conviction.

There's a part of him that admires it, even though he still thinks it's kinda stupid on some level. His only real reaction is that tilt of his head and the way he looks out in the direction of Hiccup's gesturing before meeting his gaze again. ]

Decent food, a bath, inner peace. That sort of thing. [ They may not be the biggest selling points, but hell, they're a good start. Amos is casual as he answers, unbothered by Hiccup's objections. Kid's kinda got a point. ] Yeah, this probably isn't the best introductory method. Maybe there's a way to refine it. I dunno. Seems more like a problem for down the line. [ You know, when you're not horribly physically and mentally ill. That's the most pressing issue, isn't it? That's the one you solve first.

He pauses before continuing, and. Still with that genuine sincerity. Less casual, with more purpose — purpose that he, specifically, feels. Amos isn't selling anything he hasn't already bought. ] It's worth it, though.

kenoma sickness....i know we have a new log coming soon so feel free to ignore this if it's too late

[lockedon]

[ Somehow, the misery that claws at him isn't the worst of the lot, paling in comparison to the screams - both mental and vocal - that echo through the cavern around him. They're all suffering, that much isn't in question, but the degree to which the poison warps their emotions seems to vary dramatically.

A loner by nature, Eustace keeps to himself the first few days, doing his best to shut out the world around him as he tries (and fails) to banish all the painful memories quickly rising to the surface. The sadness, the longer, the anger, the hatred. He grits his teeth until they dig into his lips and begin to bleed, and his fingernails carve crescents into the skin of his palms. But it isn't enough, just sheer willpower alone, and more often than not he's forced upright into restless walking, needing the physical exertion to help distract him.

Food and drink also help, though just barely, and he's on his way back from snatching the smallest handful of supplies when he sees.... Well, he sees a lot of things, really, but none quite so pitiful as the curled up body some feet away, low sounds of mourning barely audible. He's never cared much for others, but there's a difference between keeping away from those hearty and hale and those who are in a much worse off state than him. And there's a difference between being cold and being a monster. Carefully, he crouches down next to the figure, one hand outstretched as his fingers come to a rest lightly against the man's shoulder. ]

Hey. You'll feel better if you eat something.

[ Even if he barely has the resources or supplies to spare, he's clearly better off than this man lying in shambles on the ground, skin tinged an unhealthy grey. ]

/shania twain voice/ let's go girls

[baltimores]

[ He's lost in his own world — trying to get out of it, can't, it just keeps coming up to meet him — when he feels that light touch against his shoulder.

Amos jerks back from it, gasping as though he's just come up for air. He almost misses Eustace's words, brain taking a moment to catch up and process what it was he actually heard, as completely blackened eyes eventually land on him. Amos' chest heaves in panic; the rest of him manages to stay still as he once again figures out where he is.

Realizes that he probably is hungry, after all. If he can even keep anything down.

It takes another second for Amos to calm down; to find it in him to croak out, voice rough from disuse, ] Not sure if that's the best idea.

[ Fuck. He's exhausted though. He looks down at the ground for a moment, though that might not be obvious considering how there's nothing distinct in his gaze at the moment. Thinking it over, he sounds a little more confident as he amends, ] What've you got?