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

[zauneyete]

[ Silco had focused on food, as opposed to firewood thus far. In his corner, holed up but lording over the meager supplies, he thought he would be fine. He'd been cold before, starving. He'd grown up in the mines in the undercity, he was used to extremes. Even he shivered, underground like this. He would say he was fine, but it would be a bit of a lie.

He felt weak, and he loathed the feeling. He gestured to his supplies laid out. ]

I only aim to provide to those who cannot get more for themselves.

[ No, he'd been stealing. It was very clearly not for him. It wasn't like the lean man needed even half of what he had. He smiled, placating, but it was false, and didn't reach his eye. He looked her over, trying to place the tone, a face to a name.

Councilwoman's daughter, if he had to guess. The one playing Enforcer, that Marcus had to deal with. Hadn't she been with Vi, that night in the underbelly? Yes, quite so. She'd been helping her. What was she going on about -- a second chance? Likely she meant the destruction they'd dreamt about, then? ]

I don't see why I wouldn't set up a little...shop here. A second chance implies the first one was unsuccessful, you know. I hardly find that to be the case.

[ He said, not at all understanding the context. ]

[superbshot]

[Wait. He...didn't remember? Well, she supposed that there was plenty reason for that. People shut down when they were remembering trauma, and what could possibly be more traumatic than being shot by your own daughter? Caitlyn certainly couldn't think of anything, and while confusion flickered through her eyes as she studied the...not healthy but still whole gangster...it was brief. Determination and annoyance returned, as well as the disdain he doubtless knew all too well.

Her jaw set, and she took a step forward, still out of reach but definitely ready to fight.]

So you don't remember the end, then.

[She snorted and discarded the idea of informing him. He was a parasite, a blight on the undercity, and he was taking food from others. Better to leave him guessing, even if just for a moment.]

That doesn't belong to you. Put it down.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco is a shrewd, observant man. The Enforcer had odd words for him, and while it's easy to just brush them off -- the confusion that skirted across her face, the way her eyes narrowed... That wasn't nothing. That was interesting, and a thread to pull on.

Silco would not live in ignorance, if he had his way. He would claw, and pick, and prod until he had what he wanted and needed. This was his way. She could think him a parasite all she wanted, but at the end of the day, Silco survived. He always survived. Not yet, though. He'd wait, let her think the matter dropped. ]

I posses it, why doesn't it belong to me? [ He held a small piece of food, and he smiled at her, placating. ]

If you're hungry, of course, I'm more than happy to trade for food if needed. I'm nothing if not a giving individual, when under duress.

[superbshot]

[Her scowl deepens, and she almost wants to slug him. Almost. Not yet, because there's still the matter that they're trapped in a cave, together. Tamping down on her anger is hard. They should be working together. As wrong as it sounds, can they really afford to squabble?]

Silco. You can drop the act. You know that this was left unattended as someone went to get firewood.

[There's even footprints in the dust, her finger points out, fresh ones. As if he'd missed them.

As if he'd care.]

Put it back. Stop taking things other people need when you so clearly don't. This isn't a business. This is survival.

[zauneyete]

[ He spit, on the ground, to cover the cough, a small expunging of ichor that seemed to dissipate moments after it left his body. He shivered again, but didn't let it affect him, and instead, he just stared at this... yes, he was quite certain she was that enforcer now. Nobody was this self-righteous, without the backing of the law and authority. Especially when it only helped some. ]

Business and survival are one and the same. You've never gone hungry before, I assume? I can understand the instinct.

[ He held up a piece of food, and turned it in his hands. ]

In the undercity, we have always had scarce resources, you see. When I was a boy, in fact, I learned to run a business quite similar to this. Survival and business are one and the same, just because there's no coin to be had doesn't mean there is not something we must all need.

[ He tucked the food back away, and was hardly going to offer some to her. Perhaps if it had been Marcus, but he'd always been more desperate for what Silco could provide. ]

Why don't you skitter along, and find someone who is actually scared of your thug-ish threats? I'm sure they'd be much more willing to fold than I.

[superbshot]

[And there it was. The prattling on about scarce resources, talking about how hard life was for him growing up. Caitlyn had pegged him for the type to do just that, trying to make her feel guilty for the situation in the undercity. That wasn't something she could control, and it hardly mattered now. The world may be so much stardust, and she was staring at a living corpse. The corpse of a man who had, in the span of a week, gone from totally off her radar to the root of basically all of her problems, all of Vi's problems, and the pain and suffering of hundreds if not thousands of people with his drugs.

And here he is, stealing.

Anger flared, her jaw set, and she advanced in two quick strides. If he'd thought she wasn't prepared to make good on those threats, he was about to be proven wrong. Her fist shot out, aimed squarely for his jaw, and she wasn't pulling the punch. She knew he could probably fight, she'd been prepared for that when confronting him, but Caitlyn also knew he was hardly in his prime even without the Ritual's toll.]

I said to put it down. I meant it.

[Setting herself in a boxing stance, she prepared herself for a counterattack, or to attack again depending on how he reacted.]

[zauneyete]

[ That smug, self satisfied look on Silco's face melted the very moment her fist connected with his face. He yelled, louder than he'd intended, in surprise at the solid thud against him, and he whipped back. She was strong, of course. Caitlyn might be a crack shot, but she's also got a strength advantage on the mid-forties man who looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over.

Alternatively, her fist did just that.

He didn't stay down, or cowed, for long. Silco had been in plenty of scraps more dangerous than that -- as evidenced by the scar across his eye -- and when he stood, his eyes burned with hatred, but he braced himself this time, ready to move the next time she tried that again. ]

Or what? You'll kill me, Enforcer? That is what your kind like to do, isn't it? Make up your own laws, and if we step out of line, you just make us?

You aren't the authority here.

[superbshot]

[Wiping away that smug look had felt incredibly good, but that wasn't the sole reason she'd done it. This man was a monster, and this was further proven by how quickly the smooth talking gangster vanished. Without the garish semblance of Piltovan fashion he seemed to favor, it was even more stark how quickly he flipped.]

I don't need to be the authority to tell you that you're in the wrong, you wretched little weasel.

[Caitlyn practically snarls that out, watching him with a cold, calculated fury of her own.]

You're selfish, you're greedy, and you're trying to find some way to profit and trade in all this. This has nothing to do with the law, and everything to do with morality.

[She advances again, swinging her foot out this time, trying to hook his leg and send him back to the ground.]

You blame Piltover for all your problems, and yet given half the chance you'd go back to dealing Shimmer and worsening an already terrible situation. Your death was a favor to the Undercity.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco was ready for her this time. He didn't have a knife, or any weapons; he was old, compared to how he'd been, but he was still quick on his feet. He'd been in plenty of street fights and scuffles that had been with bare hands and bare feet. He didn't respond, but dashed back, his feet quicker than they had any right to be, on the cold floor, with cold, bare feet.

But Silco grew up poor in the mines underneath Zaun, and he'd had close to ten years of fine living, but before that he'd still been lurking in the cold, dark spaces in the undercity. He hadn't lost all of his instincts. He stood up -- the white robe looked awkward on him, even if it was filthy by now, billowing, it practically swallowed him whole, being that it was so much bigger than him. ]

My death, hm? [ He said, after a moment of consideration, another step back, his feet planted on the ground to make another dash back. ]

Please. You think that pillar you two knocked down was enough to kill me? You're sadly mistaken.

[ He watched, carefully. The point was to distract. Had they been that certain that their efforts were successful? Why were they so certain? He'd been in such a furor he hadn't been able to watch them escape, in the moment, but had they really not looked back? ]

[superbshot]

Oh, hardly. Clearly the trauma of it all has made things difficult for you.

[She advances again, taking a few quick feints that don't quite turn into real punches, trying to force him backwards and keep him off balance, away from the pack he'd been looking. She's half hoping to force him to stumble in that ridiculous robe, and half hoping to actually connect, too. She was confident this was correct, sure of herself, and the adrenaline was helping cope with the cold and the hunger. A weasel like this couldn't be allowed to steal from people who were clearly going hungry.]

Allow me to illuminate you. You were shot. And I had nothing to do with it.

[Nothing at all. Jinx was just Jinx. And she was going to save that tidbit for later, when she was actually aiming to get in a punch, or just felt like this had gone on long enough.]

[zauneyete]

Oh yes, the "trauma".

[ He said, his tone snide, and mocking. His lips curled into a nasty smile, Silco moved out of the way again, this time towards the food. He had been hungry before, stolen before, been an urchin on the streets of Zaun with a small, new smuggling business. He knew the techniques, because he'd spent his entire life throwing down with enforcers.

He just wish he had a knife to surprise her. ]

The trauma of almost getting crushed by my own tower? Please. It hasn't done much to separate me from reality. I went home after that, just like normal.

[ He grabbed the food again, and held onto it this time, another step back. ]

You're going to have to try a lot harder to deceive me. Make up a better lie, next time.

[superbshot]

The trauma of being shot by your own daughter in a fit of peak, actually.

[She lets that slip deliberately, intending to distract him as she's continuing to advance and force him to keep backing up. It's a means to corral him towards a cave wall so he won't be as able to slip by.]

The tower was days ago, before we even came here. I don't know why you're so fixated on that, unless you're in denial that Jinx shot you.

[That's the only logical conclusion. Time differences don't even cross her thoughts.]

[zauneyete]

You're delusional.

[ He said, but it's only after he said it that something clicked. How in the hell did she know about Jinx? It was perhaps the Underworld's worst kept secret -- but topsiders? No, that was unusual. It's difficult to come up with a reason, a purpose for why she was so insistent that he was dead.

Shot? No, nothing of the sort. The last thing he'd done was started heading topside for business. That was it. The most novel thing about it was the embargo they would have to circumvent somehow -- probably enough money to grease enforcer palms. Death hadn't even factored into it. ]

I don't know where you get your information, but trying to...what? Distract me? With lies? [ He sneered, then, and didn't move back any further, still far enough away from the wall. ]

I thought you enforcers were better than that.

[superbshot]

I am nothing of the sort.

[She says this with complete, total, utter conviction. She continues, laying it all out there, watching his face carefully. She doesn't advance though, instead choosing her words with deliberate care.]

Jinx shot you in the chest in a fit of madness. Surely you didn't think you wouldn't end up on the receiving end of some of that, some day? You should be dead. I saw the hole in your chest, myself. Yet here you are, apparently whole again, a parasite stealing food from desperate people. This could have been your second chance to be more than a drug-dealer peddling human misery, yet here you are...playing at civility while having the audacity to claim you're not the selfish monster we both know you to be.

[And it's that that really makes it all click for her. Why seeing him stealing from someone she doesn't know makes her so viscerally angry. He's hurting people just because it might benefit him. He's acting against the common good for selfish ends. There's very little in the world that makes her angry the same way, and seeing it here...when every single person in this cave is in dire straights...is beyond vile to her. There was no world where he wouldn't do this.]

[zauneyete]

[ Silco watched her. She believed it. Beyond any other evidence, she believed this. Like she had seen it with her own eyes. She knew that Jinx and he had been family, too. That was more worrying than anything else, but who knew what Vi had been able to dig up since her release from whatever pit Marcus had thrown her into.

His eyes looked away from her for a moment, briefly, long enough to consider the nature of her words, breath quick, a spot of black starting to appear on his robes -- his shard leaking ichor at his neck -- seeping like he'd been cut, or choked. ]

I literally have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not "whole again", and if you're going to keep insisting on lies, I'm afraid you're not going to get anything more out of me.

[ It's simple, right? It's a lie. An attempt at making him feel bad, in such a way that would leave him vulnerable and raw. It's a ploy for something, and Silco isn't about to believe her. Not when they're all still heaving, and sick. ]

[superbshot]

Then you're delusional, or somehow removed from a different point in time.

[Which sound stupid, and she dismisses it almost as soon as she says it. It's stupid, and shouldn't be possible, isn't possible.

Setting her jaw, she lashes out with another series of punches in an attempt to get him to drop the things he's stolen, this time advancing rapidly to force him back or to accept the blows. If nothing else, she can give this man what Vi would want him to have.]

[zauneyete]

[ A different point in time? What ludicrous nonsense was --

She lashed out with another series of punches, and this time Silco's own ability to dash out of the way was tested. She got him, one punch to the shoulder, before he slithered and dodged, mind half-distracted as his brain turned the prospect over and over in his head.

No, he was most certainly not delusional. Vivid in his mind, was the last thing he'd done, taking the elevator up to the bridge -- not even quite there, he'd blinked one eye -- and then -- ? This? There was nothing blocked, try as he might.

But the enforcer wasn't going to give up her pursuit. Silco had two options. Let her get the food, or take the punch. He didn't really fancy the punch, and she was moving him further and further back toward the wall.

He had more food, stashed away. He'd hidden it well, being someone who grew up underground, in caves. Sure, this wasn't exactly a network of sump pipes, or a labyrinth of mines, but he knew well enough how to make it work. He needed -- time? Yes, time. He needed to figure this out, worry over the prospect. He curled a lip, and finally tossed what little he had in the air, giving it up, and instead tried to dash pas the enforcer, to get away from her assault. ]

Consider it a gift. [ He sneered. He had no weapons, no knife, no way to lash out. His options were limited, and he'd never really spoke with his fists, had he? ]