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

[affal]

It's much appreciated.

( perhaps it's ironic that a decent number of mortals (or at least who he would think of as such) had preceded him here in this decision, but what can he say? these last few years he's spent as a demon have been defined by his indignation and bullheadedness — even before the last trappings of humanity had been scrubbed from him, he had told J with perfect adamancy: not necessarily that he wasn't going to become a demon, but that he wasn't going to become a demon like he wanted.

the acceptance of the Kenoma settled upon him like a well-suited cloak. he didn't begrudge the new sense of purpose that coiled and curled between the tines of his ribcage, but he was mildly annoyed at how it seemed to inject interference into his own personal aspirations. it would take time to mete peace between the two — but time is something he's bought himself.

he sits when welcomed, and as he does, the wings fold back up underneath the back of his tunic and disappear just as readily as they had appeared. it's no inconvenience to him; if anything, it's a relief and a boon to know that he can draw them when needed. ) Oh? ( the interjection is light, but the look that accompanies it is a little more complex. he studies the man, measured but curious. ) I had no idea I was leaving you waiting. Howl-san, the pleasure is mine. You may call me M.

( in demon society, speaking the name of a hierarchical superior would cause a lesser demon to shatter to their very core. stronger demons utilize initials, then, and the power and prestige ends up attaching to the would-be title. makoto knows that none of this is the case in this situation, but it gives him a twist of stolen superiority to keep his name to himself. )

May I? ( he gestures to one of the apples. )

[galdorleod]

[ Howl's pale blue eyes, a bit too marble-like and empty to be entirely human, glance over the demon's shoulders as his wings disappear. Interesting. Strange, in a good way. An illusion, perhaps? Or rapid transformational magic? He can only speculate. Demon he might be, but not the kind Howl is familiar with. For example, the significance of the single letter name is lost on him. ]

By all means. [ He gestures to the small collection of apples with his free hand, offering him his pick. Then he goes back to his lounging position against the tree and continues to study him as he takes another bite of the half-eaten apple in his hand. Well, might as well come out with it. ]

Forgive the presumptive question, M, but you're a demon, are you not?

[affal]

( the storybook picture of a "demon" conjured by folk tales and popular media was a bit of a stereotype, makoto had found. demons in the hell he's from took all sorts of shapes (and some could take any shape they wanted), though it was said that the more powerful and influential of them tended to look more human than others. makoto was an oddity in that he was formerly human — demons of that make typically didn't survive the transition, the material and nature of the mortal psyche too fragile to survive the forging into something altogether different.

but makoto was uniquely stubborn and perseverant.

he had once been able to tell without looking the nature of another creature's soul — if it were mortal or not and, if it were, how laden it was with the miseries and maladies of mankind. it was part and parcel in how demons make their trade. he's blind to that now, but even as he is, he can tell that there's something amiss and undefinable about this "howl." it's something in the sheen of his eyes, and in the blithe affability that wouldn't have been out of place in the courts of hell.

makoto doesn't need to be told twice; he reaches for one of the apples and doesn't hesitate in taking a sizable bite out of it, only just now becoming aware of how ravenous he was after a little over half a week of basically starving himself. he chews, swallows, and gives a somewhat roguish smile at the question. )

Do the wings make it a little too obvious? ( well, it's not like it isn't obvious that there's something up with him, what with the bizarre eyes and the fact that his head is literally sewn onto his body. he continues without delay, ) Yes. Why do you ask?

[galdorleod]

[ Lucky for Howl that Makoto is currently lacking his powers — it would be no surprise if the other demon could tell that Howl's is still chained by his demonic contract. Even here, with Calcifer absent, another a victim of the death of their world. Howl's thoughts inevitably wander back to his dear lost friend in the wake of Makoto's confirmation, and he glances away before his smile can falter. ]

I could tell. [ he says with a slight shrug of his shoulders, although it was really more of a suspicion. The wings helped, not to mention those eyes and the odd thread embedded in his neck.

He takes a loud crunchy bite out of his apple and chews. ] You're not much like the demons I know, though. You're much more... human, if I may put it that way?

[affal]

( it would be a curious adaptation of a demon's contract, at least from his perspective. the quid pro quo of contracts as far as he's executed them has been stark: one human desire in return for one human soul. no matter how the human might try to delay and wriggle out of the terms, the demon bound them to its path until, in the moment of its exhaustion or satisfaction, it relinquished itself into gold dust.

makoto had once been a human contracted to a demon, certainly, but it hadn't been until after his mortal death that anything about his essence had fundamentally changed. )

I see. ( the reply was unhelpfully vague, but as he's presently benefiting from the man's generosity, he will not press the issue.

he raises one eyebrow, head canting slightly to one side. ) Do you commonly deal with demons? ( he's already some small understanding of how demons seemed to take different shapes and sizes, not just in their matter but also in their manner. )

You have a keen intuition, sir. It's because I was human. Until around three and a half years ago, in any case.

( he doesn't really think to obfuscate this information. to any demon in hell, it was obvious enough. )

[galdorleod]

[ While Makoto looks different, Howl is careful not to make any assumptions as to how different he is on a more fundamental level. The demons in his world had a reputation of overpowering and consuming those who contract with them, until wizard and demon eventually become indistinguishable. That sounds different from his world's demons, yes, but he can't be sure on such sparse information.

So as interested as Howl is in this other demon, he isn't in a hurry to reveal much about himself. Nor does he want to give Makoto the impression that he's interested in a second contract. He counted himself lucky to have happened upon Calcifer, being the kind of unusually soft-hearted demon that he is... but then again, so few demons managed to get their hands on a human heart like Calcifer did. ]

Oh? My, you must have been quite young? That sounds like an interesting story. [ Eyebrows raised, he looks Makoto over again, and for once he's grateful that Calcifer's curse makes him incapable of telling others about the specifics of their deal. ]

[affal]

( it was probably a smart assumption to make, though not entirely necessary here. as far as makoto is concerned at this point, most of the inherent qualities that made a demon what they were where he was from don't really apply here. if they did, he simply wouldn't exist. they weren't flesh-and-blood like mortals were, after all — not in the same way, anyway. the writ upon which their existences were inscribed was not self-justified in the way a human child's was, the moment it was born, inalienable so long as its heart beat and its lungs drew breath. no, the substance that made up a demon, both tangible and insubstantial, wrapped itself around external acknowledgement of their existence. others had to know his name, and they had to call him by it. it meant that, in a world with demons like J and datenshou, he essentially couldn't die, but here? he's told no one his real name, and yet here he is.

it tells him that the stringent laws by which demons live by in hell are not applicable here. what exactly that means for him now... it's hard to say.

so even if howl were interested in a second contract, makoto is fairly certain he's incapable at the moment. that, and reaping the human souls of his now-allies as gold dust seems a little... counter-productive to what they all essentially signed up to do. that, and makoto himself had only ever been interested in the demon's trade as a way to keep his mind off of other matters and amass enough gold to control avaricious demons with, anyway.

makoto is apt enough in quiet omissions in conversation to notice the lapses, but it's merely something he keeps in mind for later. his initial reply is a smile and a hum of assent — he'd been a boy in high school, as a matter of fact, and it's not as though his few years as a demon had changed much about his comparatively tender age. as for the story... ) Yes. ( observed simply, and punctuated by the crack of the flesh of the apple giving away in his teeth. he doesn't continue until he's finished chewing and swallowing. ) And a long and fairly unpleasant one. But what's done is done.

( read: two can play at being cagey with regards to their histories, howl. )

How long has it been since you came up here? ( given the assumption that this is maybe three or four days into the week. )

[galdorleod]

[ Honestly? Fair play. It's not like Howl had expected his newly acquainted demon to recite his entire history in full on the first request. Especially not after he'd completely dodged M's questions. There will be plenty of time for learning more about all his new comrades later. ]

A few days. [ Howl inspects the white flesh of the apple in his hand as he ponders exactly how to answer. His behavior during his one and only night below ground had not been... flattering.

With a brief clearing of his throat, he leans back against the tree, stretches his long legs out in front of him, and crosses them neatly in the grass. The movement was sweeping and dramatic for something so simple. ]

You probably could tell when I left, even if you didn't know it was me yet. I was the one wailing his heart out. [ grinning, he bites his apple and chews. ] Quite silly, in hindsight, for me to have put up such a pointless fight! I have to wonder what everyone still down there is thinking.

[affal]

( it's not that there's much about his past that's a secret. there's scarcely a demon in the upper rings of the society of hell that hasn't heard about M, the former human that had been taken in as ward and protégé of J, one of the strongest and most well-feared (and well-hated) of them all, who had become one of the most highly demanded boys at datenshou's brothel and who had earned his initial in only a few short years.

none of it is a secret, and none of it is a shame to him. but the fact that no one knows anything about him here is oddly liberating, and he wants to cling to that for as long as he can — or at least until any of that information is useful for him to offer for trade.

makoto is a habitual student of others' body language, having learned early on that one of the only ways he would survive in hell would be to open his eyes and ears and learn everything he possibly could. he finds himself thinking that howl wouldn't seem to out-of-place among the soirees of hell's upper crust, as intentional and patrician as his movements and words seem to be.

he smiles faintly, recalling a dim and dusty memory from several nights back. ) Ah, yes. I seem to recall. ( he hadn't cared so much about the clamor and despair of others as he had, focusing everything he had inwards so he could maintain as much control as possible. a foolish, vain effort. he has to agree with howl at least in part on that. ) Yes, I probably struggled for far longer than I should have, though I don't necessarily fault my past self. I have some - criticisms on how they decide to initiate others to their cause.

[galdorleod]

[ Howl's grin turns into a chuckle. He's grateful for a chance not to dwell on his own embarrassing moments for too long. Let's complain instead. ]

Here, here! How right you are! Surely some other method would work? I venture a simple explanation would have been enough for at least half of us. "We regret to inform you that your worst fears are true, but we want to fix it"... something along those lines, at least.

[ Admittedly, it probably would not have made Howl willing to cooperate with whatever they asked of him. He still isn't particularly inclined to cooperate, truth be told. But it would have been enough for some; there was no reason to put everyone through what they put them through.

Howl takes the final bite from his apple and studies the half-dozen seeds still embedded in the core as he chews. ] I wonder if we can rely on them to show us any respect in the future, or if this is a sign...

[affal]

( ah, these are two young men who know the value of complaining... )

I couldn't agree enough. ( makoto gripes, disdain causing his upper lip to lift slightly from his teeth. ) Having to grapple with whatever that whole thing was actively kept me down there for several days longer than I would have stayed if I was merely spoken to. Some might require such punitive measures, but there are others that have at least half of a decent head on their shoulders.

( he could care less about the worlds that he left behind crumbling away into nothing, and to lose essentially everyone that he'd once known registered as a passing thought, but it didn't persist. makoto's perception of "friends and allies" was incredibly underdeveloped, after all — they were close so long as they were useful, just as he had thought he'd need to keep an eye upon his only "friend," fjord, when he'd seen the other demon stepping into power at the head of the brothel that had formerly been datenshou's.

all the Kenoma needed to tell him was that they could make it possible for his sole goal to still be achieved. and even then, he didn't need the Regent or anyone else to promise him that he would be given the opportunity to destroy J himself. he would believe it himself. it was, after all, the only reason he would still exist.

but he's a bull-headed little demon, and his willful and defiant nature had made him reject the whispers of the Kenoma for days on principle alone until he'd realized that it might be an opportunity in a very poor disguise. howl might not be inclined to cooperate, but makoto was always willing to wheel and deal if it meant he could get something out of it.

he takes a moment to munch on the apple, seemingly contemplative of what howl had mused. ) I'm not sure about respect, but at least we've been given back at last some of our autonomy. ( to makoto, that was really the only thing that mattered to him. even if he was going to be someone's pawn, he should at least be able to fool himself into thinking he acted on his own. that's how it worked with him and J, after all. ) From there... I imagine it might have to do with what it is we can do for them.

( and, more importantly, what the servants of the Kenoma could do for their newfound Aions. )

[galdorleod]

[ The way the demon agrees with him so earnestly makes Howl smile. Howl can't know the story behind M just from speaking with him for a few minutes, like any other person... but he detects a hint of earnest contention in the way he speaks and the emotions that pass across his face. His young face at that; but of course, he knows better than to assume anything about this demon based on his appearance. ]

What we can do for them...

[ Howl echoes the words as he looks up at the leaves and branches above them, peppered by glittering gaps of sunlight. Autonomy... it's the value that most prominently drives Howl too. He knows himself well enough to be able to acknowledge it, but not so much that he's willing to fool himself. It needs to be real freedom. Or, Howl needs to think it is. ]

...I can only assume we'll meet this "Regent" fellow eventually. He has quite the reputation to live up to at this point. [ his tone suggests that Howl expects disappointment. ]

[affal]

( there are many things about makoto that one shouldn't read at face value, but age is actually not one of them. he is quite young, at the very least young enough to claim not being of a legal age to drink when visiting jack's bar in the slums of hell. but even so, one could argue that he's aged far more in the last few years than one would normally (or even should); that, combined with a healthy dose of teenage melodrama and a demon's mien, can make him seem eerily beyond his years.

perhaps it's not surprising that howl and makoto both share an appreciation for something that many take for granted, given the histories they both carefully decide to keep from one another.

he picks up on the trepidation in howl's tone and... he can't disagree. makoto has never done particularly well with figures of authority, though it's not really without having tried — his parents had rejected him for reasons beyond his control, and it had scarcely taken J a few days before revealing the less-than-enviable truth of what makoto had agreed to in going with him into hell. but it's not to say that he is incapable of working functionally under a figure of authority; it's just that they will need to not interfere with his personal directives on his own time. )

You seem concerned. ( once he's perceived a fault line in something, makoto tends to want to pick and pry at it until he can find something interesting or useful. ) I agree. I think we will meet him soon as well. But when we do, what would you fear to find?

[galdorleod]

[ Howl is concerned. As they've already discussed, the Regent's approach to welcoming them and recruiting them to his side was interesting, to say the least. And the behavior of the soldiers and Xishen has suggested to Howl that they'll be expected to show obedience to him. That, he does not like. It reminds him too much of the King of Ingary, and Madame Suliman, and everything else that Howl found so distasteful that he made himself an outlaw to avoid participating in it. ]

In short, another self-important bureaucrat... or worse. [ He shakes his head. In his pessimism, he really doesn't expect to like a ruler like this. But, maybe he'll be pleasantly surprised? ]

we could wrap this one up soon for something newer if ya want!

[affal]

( it's a valid enough reason to be concerned, assuming that their past treatment is more of a pattern for their futures than how they're being treated right now. makoto is for the time being assuming that the way the soldiers regard them now — which is what he would probably term as "fearful reverence," though how many parts 'fear' and 'reverence' seemed to range widely depending on the individual — is a better indicator. but if it all boils down to not wanting to bend one's head to anyone..., well, that's where they would differ. makoto has no issues clapping for the king so long as what he gets in return is to his satisfaction. he'd been a meek enough subordinate to datenshou for years... or, at least, until it suddenly benefited him to overthrow and surpass his former employer.

from what he hears of the Regent, it doesn't appear it would be so easy here. not that he has any such outlandishly lofty ambitions...

makoto's lips curve into a smile, half-understanding and half-amused. ) Oh, but what could possibly be worse than pompous tedium...?

( he... is probably teasing him a bit here, but... sometimes it's hard to tell. )

As for me, so long as their expectations of us aren't outlandish and they allow for a certain amount of freedom outside of them, let the Regent be as terrible as they wish. ( it's not as if it would bother him any. this world isn't his to care about, and it's not like he's cared much for any of the worlds he's belonged to previously when it came right down to it. )