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Aion Mods ([personal profile] aionmods) wrote in [community profile] aionlogs2022-03-04 07:17 pm

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you feel it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

coerthantorment: (120)

ESTINIEN WYRMBLOOD | FFXIV | FIREBRAND

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-05 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
I➔ The Ritual
The trouble with having fought every step of the way here is that by the time they are pulled down to the cavern, Estinien has already exhausted himself. By the end of their stay in the upper ruins, abuse from the guards has become a daily and nightly affair, often bound at night instead of being allowed to sleep properly. His jaw, wrists, and ankles are lined with bruises and abrasions from the number of times he's been whipped.

And now, it seems like it will have all been for nothing.

He can't stop this. As they are all dragged to the ritual circle, he is fearing the worst. They're going to steal their minds, he thinks. It will be just like the Tempered, only there will be no one to save them in this world. He struggles one last time before it happens, brought to his knees by the ritual circle as that rancid potion is forced down his throat by some masked thrall. He snaps his teeth at them, resisting until the very last, and it makes no difference at all.

As this so-called 'Aion' effortlessly snuffs out the life of the being in her arms, the Kenoma washes through them. The rest happens in a nauseated haze. Their captors are retreating, and the bonds have disappeared, but he can feel an entirely new form of imprisonment crawling through his mind. Hatred and despair turn in his gut, and the familiarity of it all is momentarily too much.

He drags himself across the stone and screams in a moment of pure panic.


II➔ Communion & Transformation
The initial delirium passes, as all things do, but the darkness coiled in his gut has stays with him - and it's brought other unpleasant effects with it. The tips of his fingers have sharpened into blackened claws, horns and spikes breaking the skin of his shoulders and back, tearing the remains of his clothing to shreds. It clearly pains him as he staggers about, blood mingling with the black ooze that seeps from each wound, streaking down his cheeks from eyes that now glow a hazy red.

Yet, he can't quite bring himself to stop. He's on guard like a feral creature in unfamiliar territory, and the waves of emotion surging from him give exactly that impression. There's a kind of malevolence to the way he eyes the other people in the cavern, searching for the ones that are seemingly making things more difficult for the others by hoarding supplies or bringing their damned Kenoma propaganda down here from the world above.

Traitor... Thou shall not escape judgment...

If you have stolen away supplies you may find Estinien's thoughts in your head as he approaches, harsh whispers in an inhuman tongue that can be understood nonetheless. He's seemingly forgotten about the soldiers imprisoning them for a moment, instead focusing on either fellow prisoners or on new Kenoma inductees. People he thinks he can hurt.

After all, what can one do in a moment of such helpless suffering but find someone to punish for it?


III➔ Resistance
Thankfully, those darkest of moments don't consume his entire time in the cavern. No, eventually he finds his center, and is able to begin fighting back with the clarity he needs. Though horns and spines continue to puncture his skin, he turns his thoughts to preserving rather than destroying.

Whatever task those still holding on may be doing, Estinien may quietly appear alongside you to help. Defending firewood, organizing food for distribution, or simply trying to hold on... he knows that those who haven't yet broken will only have a chance if they work together. If you seem like you're having a particularly bad moment with the Kenoma, he'll try to do what he can to bolster your resolve.

"We cannot succumb," he says. "I've tasted such darkness before, and there is no hope in it. The only way we'll leave this place ourselves is if we fight them together."

In his chest, he can feel a flicker of warmth. He holds onto it desperately.


IV➔ Escape Attempt
About five or so days in, Estinien can't stand simply surviving anymore. As foolish as it is, he tries to plan an escape. Having spoken with his closest comrade and come to an agreement, he begins probing the line of soldiers, looking for a way to slip through.

The longer he does it, the bolder he becomes, and perhaps he even makes it as far as slipping past the first smattering of guards. Unfortunately, they aren't the only ones guarding this place now, and the dimness of the caverns only does so much to shield him from their sight as he slinks along the rocky walls.


V➔ Wildcard
Anything else I didn't include! Estinien will be doing all the usual things while in the cavern: sitting around looking miserable, trying to make sure people have food, struggling to stay warm. Feel free to catch him in one of those moments, or anything else that seems reasonable.
Edited 2022-03-05 07:03 (UTC)
devilmancrybaby: <user name=gatorix1 site=tumblr.com> ((ooh he's a male ingenue))

IV

[personal profile] devilmancrybaby 2022-03-05 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, it's you again."

Luo Binghe has stepped out of the darkness to block Estinien's path. He looks in much better shape than the last time they spoke -- not to mention in better shape than those of his fellow captives who are still struggling to resist the Kenoma. There's a faint crimson gleam to his eyes as he smirks up at Estinien.

"Surely you must know you won't get very far."
coerthantorment: (28)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-05 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Estinien hisses in reflexive surprise at Binghe's sudden appearance - it occurs to him now that he hadn't seen much of him in the cavern, ever since the beginning. Now it begins to make sense. He can tell by his appearance that he's succumbed.

Despite the fact that this had been preliminary scouting, the mental burden still resting on him means that his reaction to being cut off is to go lizard-brained, both figuratively and literally. Leaping down from the rocky outcrop he was creeping along, he scrambles across the stone in an attempt to make it past him.
devilmancrybaby: <user name=meltesh28 site=tumblr.com> (Default)

[personal profile] devilmancrybaby 2022-03-06 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
Luo Binghe surges towards him with inhuman speed, gathering demonic energy in his palm so the blow will be greater when he slams it into Estinien. Or if he slams it into him, but right now Binghe is overconfident, high on his returned strength and eager to put this guy in his place after the way their last conversation ended.
coerthantorment: (132)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Estinien could have fought against this if his strength was also returned, or maybe even if he hadn't spent the last few weeks getting himself beaten and starved. As it is, though, he's barely got anything left. His feet and hands and numb with cold, and it means that when he tries to spring away from Binghe's approach, his body fails him.

Binghe's palm slams into him, sending him rolling across the stone. He heaves out a shuddering gasp, too winded to stand or do much of anything but claw at the stone and choke.

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galdorleod: ([black] anticipation)

iii/iv mix

[personal profile] galdorleod 2022-03-06 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Estinien's escape attempt is doomed before it even begins.

For the past four days, Howl has been watching over his new comrades from behind the line of soldiers. He's been able to see almost everyone from his favorite spot on the stairs; only a few places are hidden from view from his high vantage point. A good number of them have come to their senses by now — about half, if he'd venture a guess — but most surprising to him is the stubborn resolve of one in particular. They've been frequent unwitting companions over the past two weeks, so in a certain sense, it really should not be surprising at all. But Howl pegged Estinien to be smarter, more practical than this. Why he's continuing to torture himself, Howl cannot guess. Not after the unbearable suffering he went through himself, nor the relief that submission had brought to him.

It's with some astonishment that he now watches Estinien slip past the frontmost row of guards. He couldn't possibly be trying to escape, could he? The possibility finally spurns him into action. Wordlessly, he pushes past the soldiers in his way and descends the stairs. By now, Howl has become well-versed in the strange variety of telepathy that the Aions share between themselves now. It isn't terribly strong with those who have yet to accept the darkness, but it isn't useless, either.
]

:: Estinien. ::

[ Now at the bottom of the stairs, Howl can no longer see him — but he knows he's still there. He can feel it. ]

:: Where are you going? ::
Edited 2022-03-06 00:27 (UTC)
coerthantorment: (27)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
[While Howl has been able to learn to control this gift somewhat, Estinien's resistance to the Kenoma means that it remains a wild and unchecked thing. As soon as he feels Howl's thought itching in his brain, his reaction is immediate. Down in the rocks where he's been slinking along, he freezes, but his mind is unable to pause to match.

A surge of anger and frustration rolls off of him, which Howl can no doubt feel. For a single, sharp moment there's an instinctual urge to kill the person threatening him - but it passes into more nebulous helplessness and desperation just as quickly.]


::Traitor. Coward. Step aside. You won't stop me.::

[While these thoughts don't come across as words, exactly, the sentiments are clear enough.]
galdorleod: ([black] observing)

[personal profile] galdorleod 2022-03-06 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ Howl isn't so enthralled with the Kenoma that he doesn't hear and understand Estinien's reaction. If anything, it makes complete sense to him. Howl was like that once. Hopeful. Naive. He knows himself well enough to guess that he might inadvertently dip back into dreamlike positivity again. He does have such a troublesome tendency towards it; today, on a rare occasion, he's got enough mental clarity to acknowledge that fact.

If anything, his sympathy for Estinien's reaction pushes him onward. As he senses the hostility, he can't help but think back to the other man's sullen but stalwart expression, dimly lit by the pathetically small fires provided to them.

He steps into the dark and meanders around various lumps of rubble, searching.
]

:: Coward, maybe. But traitor to what? ::

[ An honest question, as far as he's concerned. To resistance? But what purpose did any of it serve, when it turned out to be without purpose this whole time? ]

:: There's no need for you to keep suffering. What will the soldiers do to you when you're caught? ::
Edited 2022-03-06 01:45 (UTC)
coerthantorment: (59)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
::To us. To everyone youwe left behind.::

[Estinien is capable of understanding that he barely knows these people, that they are hardly required to have any particular loyalty to the people they were trapped with. Yet, he can't help but instinctually feel that they are fighting for something here. Fighting against something, against whoever sought to force this choice on them, whoever caused this sequence of events and threatened them with the destruction of everything they know. There has to be something.

He can hear Howl coming and so he attempts to hide more carefully. There is a sliver of anticipation, of fear, when thinking about what will happen if he gets caught, even if it's followed up with the fatalistic sentiment that he'd rather die than let them win. This comes out in another jumble of sentiments.]


::They did this to us. This suffering has a cause. You're part of it now. All of you. I'd rather die. ::

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aquaveiled: (himeka-215)

V - it's time

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-03-06 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
Things have definitely gone from bad to worse to "what the hell" in succession. They had not known what to expect, but Himeka would not have imagined this. "Ritual" had been ominous enough, but what they witnessed and what they were forced to partake in...

She hasn't felt the same since. Plagued with unwelcome thoughts in her waking hours, as someone who prefers to avoid sleep unless necessary, it seemed the only reprieve available, but too difficult to obtain. Curled up on her bedroll, Himeka makes a poor figure for any regaled Warrior of Light, closed in as tightly on herself as possible with her tail wrapped up around her.

She's cold. She's tired. Her body aches in many places despite not having seen battle for weeks now. Himeka forces her eyes shut, trying to force sleep when she hears movement behind her. A sudden panic makes her heart jump in her chest as she jolts, looking over her shoulder warily.
coerthantorment: (13)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
It really has only gotten worse with time, and while that isn't a truth Estinien wants to speak aloud, the nature of their situation has made it hard to conceal. He's been fighting with everything he has to hold the darkness back, to keep the hatred it stirs in him at bay, but his spirit feels raw from the effort.

It's the one thing he can do to embrace what little compassion he can offer, and who better to receive it than Himeka?

He knows that she struggles with the cold at times. It's not as if he likes it either, but he's faced worse than the chill of this cave, even if he'd generally been better dressed. It hurts to see her so small and closed in. So, when she looks up in surprise, it's to see estinien sliding in beside her with his own bedroll in hand. He's opened it at the side.

"Here," he says, carefully putting a hand on her shoulder to let her know he's there, and then draping the second bedroll over her. His fingers are hardened into claws, but he tries not to let it bother him. He stays at her side.
aquaveiled: (himeka-214)

[personal profile] aquaveiled 2022-03-06 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
What she sees at first is not Estinien, but something twisted and seeping with darkness. It's not unlike the summoning of a voidsent and it sends a chill down her spine. Yet in a manner of seconds, the image fades and she sees the face of her dear, albeit tired friend.

Himeka exhales slowly as his hand settles on her shoulder, hoping that the panic wasn't too obvious.

"Thank you..." She'll accept the warmth and the commiseration, offering a forced smile. She has the urge to just...curl back up into herself, but feels a little sorry for doing so. But she does relax a little. "It isn't easy catching sleep here, is it?"
coerthantorment: (5)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
He really does look pretty awful, even without any hallucinations being superimposed over him. Ooze has been leaking from his eyes and shard all day, and it's made a mess, even if it isn't actually painful. It's on the bedroll too, at this point, but he knows that neither of them have the luxury of using only clean linens.

"Aye," he agrees, slipping a bit closer now that her burst of fear seems to have faded. Which, yes, he did notice. Though he is clearly a bit uncertain in doing so, he knows what the obvious solution to them both being cold.

"... Let's try this."

Carefully, he slips beneath the bedroll with her. With the large size of his body, he can get quite a bit of coverage, and despite being cold himself he does generate a fair amount of body heat.

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coerthantorment: (57)

III but for Emet-Selch

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
When the first batch of food is delivered by the soldiers, Estinien can already tell there are going to be problems. With no control over who takes what, those that don't have the strength to leap upon what's offered will probably be left behind.

So, despite everything, he's been doing what he can to ward off hoarders from the communal supplies. A lot of that is just making sure everything is distributed before anyone can think to do it. He isn't the only one to do this, but he is the one that happens to see Emet-Selch. His gut turns, his back arching with the pain of the spikes that have started pushing through his skin.

Even seeing the man still makes him angry. Everything he did, everything he caused, is still so fresh in Estinien's mind. And yet... he thinks of what Himeka had said to him, about how Emet-Selch reminded her of Meteoin, and how he, too, was driven by despair. He has seen for himself what despair can cause.

Wherever Emet-Selch is hanging out, Estinien will toss him a bit of rations, in direct defiance to the bitterness chewing on his insides.

"We must hold on," he says. After all, he recognizes what the man has faced, for better or for worse. "There is still something to fight for."
lachtara: (Warming)

[personal profile] lachtara 2022-03-06 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
While many in the room consider their fate at the hands of this ritual, Emet-Selch silently reflects on the vague memory of his world being devoured in darkness precluding their arrival. He sits on the stone floor, bedroll draped over his shoulders, as he listlessly contemplates its true fate.

The ration of food then falls heavy at his side. It's enough to draw his attention away from such thoughts and to the person who provided them; An unfamiliar Elezen that he's observed on the fringes of the crowd. They also provide something less tactile in the form of words. "Ah, yes. The ever-present sense of hope."

He reaches for the rations with one hand. This ration happens to be a roll of some kind of bread stippled with black seeds on top. It's rolled in some protective wrap and resembles something he actually might care to eat. He begins to pick at the wrapping so that he might consume its contents.

There is a very deliberate pause before he replies. "I am sure you are aware that the supplies being handed out do not match the number of those who need them. It would be in your best interest not to hand out everything you're given so freely." It's not chiding, but informative. "As such, I suppose some measure of gratitude is in order."
coerthantorment: (70)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-06 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Ugh.

It's the sort of response he supposes he should have expected, at least based on the tales he'd heard of the man. Yet, he finds it oddly comical that an Ascian would speak so skeptically of hope. After all, having fought so long, he must have believed in something.

He sighs, crossing his arms around himself. He tries to recall Alphinaud's words... how it was not their place to pass judgment on past tragedies. Something he struggles with admittedly, especially when past tragedy very well may be a present danger. Yet...

Let it not be said he didn't try. For Alphinaud and for Alisaie, if nothing else.

"That's why I'm doing it," he says, lifting his shoulders. "I've already had my share... and if there is a way to get through this, it won't be alone."

He's quiet for a moment, and then adds:

"In the interest of honesty, I know who you are."

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inutilis: (✞ unkempt.)

ii-ish!!

[personal profile] inutilis 2022-03-07 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
There is little more unnerving, more unsettling, more distinctly harrowing than the sight of a man losing himself -- be it to the ghosts inside himself or otherwise.

This affliction has not manifested itself so physically in all those forced to endure the Aion's ritual, but for those it did... it is ugly, and brutal, and nauseating for the stab of an empathetic pang it induces. Abel's cognizance has ebbed and flowed over the hours; he has managed to keep himself steady by the skin of his teeth, but he has not found his body mutated like Estinien's. If he had... he doesn't know that he would be doing much better than the mean leaking blood, staggering like the possessed in the dark, cold confines of the cavern.

...The priest is gently but purposefully reaching a hand out to Estinien's arm, trying to oh-so-delicately halt the poor soul's restless amble; Abel is afraid that this fellow is doing himself further injury by refusing to rest, and the blue eyes that settle on those hauntingly aglow are full of a stark, unerring worry. There is no fear, no apprehension-- only a deep concern and grief for his pain.

"--you're bleeding," he tries, a plaintive edge in his words. He can imagine this tall, ravaged figure might not be completely himself, right now; does he even realize the state he's in? Does he feel it all? "Can you hear me, sir...?"
coerthantorment: (93)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-07 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Estinien's gaze is wandering back to the line of soldiers when Abel catches him, searching for that woman - the one that led the ritual that caused this in the first place. Thoughts of his own self-preservation are beyond him, in that moment, fears of what might happen to him if he tries to hurt the people that did this to them seem irrelevant.

He was never meant to keep living, after all. He was meant to die in the war he'd created, the war he fought to end. Who is he besides this?

Yet, Abel's hand on his arm draws his attention back to the present, as if reminding him that he has a physical form beyond the shambling shade of his anger. Worse than that, the vibrantly blue eyes that settle upon him trigger a memory that nearly undoes him in this particularly fragile moment. He can just as easily imagine Aymeric standing there, or Alphinaud. He can imagine their pain as seeing him corrupted like this again. His fears radiate into the air between them, sending flickers of what he's perceiving into Abel's own thoughts.

His expression falls from the snarling it's been as he ambles about, sinking into one of unbearable grief. He shudders and raises a clawed hand to his face, trying to remember himself and where he is.

"...F-Forgive me..." is all he manages to get out, barely knowing who he is talking to, but also apologizing to the specters of those he might have lost
inutilis: (✞ gentle questions.)

[personal profile] inutilis 2022-03-07 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
Though it isn't the first brush the priest has had with the strange, surreal nature of their empathic bonds, it is no less unsettling; grief; fear. The abatement of rage is replaced by something even more capable of seizing the air in the lungs; impressions that he can identify as foreign and not his own make his heart twist with a virulence. This man... he is in pain.

...And Abel isn't sure what is more crushing -- the duress to the mind, or the warped state of the body.

He has no desire to abuse this seeming blurring of reality, nor take advantage of Estinien's mistaking of him as a friend who isn't here to lend comfort... but he isn't above temporarily making it a tool for Estinien's sake. Abel has no doubt that those people, comrades and allies whose heart this man longs for would not begrudge the priest in that. So, it is with a gentility that he carefully, slowly, rests both his hands at the firmness of the elezen's shoulders, trying to delicately guide him to sit.

"Come," he coaxes, his voice soft. This... this is terrible, and if there was anything he could do to steal some of the weight of this burden from him...

"There's no need for forgiveness. If you rest, then... I promise, it's only a matter of time before you find your way through this. We can sit right here 'til then, alright...?"

Abel will not leave him alone to be haunted by ghosts -- not from within, and not the ones perceived, either.

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baltimores: (042; I mean no)

ii

[personal profile] baltimores 2022-03-07 11:27 am (UTC)(link)
Traitor.

The word enters Amos' mind and he blinks, confused. He figures out where it came from quick enough — recognizes Estinien, despite the very notable change in appearance. Who else is that tall and aggressive? — but he doesn't understand the why behind it. Who the fuck has he betrayed? He's got no one here. It's just himself, and for the first time since waking up in this world, he's actually feeling okay.

He's pretty sure Estinien is not okay. And yet, that seems to matter little to him, the way he stalks about and glares. At him. Huh.

Amos came back down to try to tell others, the ones he's found he maybe cares about, the ones who look like they need it the most, that they don't have to do this. One look at Estinien and it's immediately clear that's not going to work on him, so Amos adjusts.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, probably not a good idea," he says, cool and straightforward. If this is what Estinien wants, that's fine — but the promise of violence seems like a poor choice down here.
coerthantorment: (105)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-08 05:57 am (UTC)(link)
The concept of betrayal in this situation is hazy at best, but to Estinien it feels clear as day. This darkness inside of him is the enemy, after all, and anyone who accepts it... they're the enemy too. Amos was once, seemingly, on the same side of him and now he's not.

He's cooperating with the people still enforcing the torture of the remaining prisoners. Amazing, he thinks, how quickly so many of them turned. How so many of them would overlook the suffering they'd just left behind.

He snarls at Amos, his gaze delirious, his nearly feral level of defensiveness disconnecting him from reality. Though he only moves at a pained stagger, his claws are sharp and at the ready.

"You've joined with them," he growls. "After everything they did to us."
baltimores: (035; (that’s all this is))

[personal profile] baltimores 2022-03-08 09:53 am (UTC)(link)
The claws don't escape Amos' notice. He sees them through his peripheral vision, and they're not something he's going to discount. While Estinien is clearly not at his best, he's still massive. The only advantage Amos has on him is slowly returning strength and endurance, and he's not exactly keen to test those out right now.

Still, he stands his ground. If it comes to it, Amos is pretty sure he'll be able to get away. He'll come out of this just fine.

Estinien? Who knows.

"Sure," Amos says. Shrugs. Joining hadn't been on his mind so much as not having this happen to him anymore, but they're kinda one and the same, aren't they. "It's how the world works. The strongest are gonna exert themselves over everyone else. I know a lost battle when I see one. Prolonging the fight's kinda pointless."

He isn't that emotionally invested one way or the other — it's a simple matter of practicality. Survival. Really nothing more than that.

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dragon_rider: (hiccup547)

iii

[personal profile] dragon_rider 2022-03-13 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Hiccup finds that the more their numbers dwindle the more the burning questions in the back of his mind argue against it: If they have to choose something from suffering how is that a good thing? It's easy to bring suffering — He's seen it for much of his life. A fact replayed by the ghosts in his mind like a movie reel: Toothless held down, deep within the caves of viking pirates, Drago with a knife to Astrid's neck, his father's death. There's more, there's always more, but his darkest thoughts like those ones best. ]

[ It's funny how its himself he hates in those situations more than anyone else — But that's the way it always is, isn't it? Stubbornness comes off him in waves, even when he's too weak to stand. He finds he can't sit idle — The sparse food rations he had long since given to others who looked like they needed it more. Hands instead finding themselves at work on a piece of firewood and a sharp rock, fingers numb and bleeding from his labors at stripping it. ]

[ When suddenly the good-looking man with pointed ears he'd seen wrestling with guards more than once drops be, he glances up with a cant of his head. Green eyes fiery despite chapped lips from unknown cold and shaky limbs, he gives a short breath: ]


Doing that would hurt us more than them.

[ Said simply, quietly, despite the makeshift start of a sharpened piece of wood. ]
coerthantorment: (57)

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2022-03-15 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
[Estinien eyes the primitive weapon Hiccup is making with approval - he hasn't actually seen anyone else doing that. It would have been smart to make one himself, he thinks, but the claws he's grown make it somewhat redundant. He has more more than enough spines piercing the skin of his bank to need to find more.

Still, it says something about Hiccup's intent. Estinien lifts an eyebrow at him.]


Then what do you see as our alternative?
dragon_rider: (hiccup411)

[personal profile] dragon_rider 2022-03-16 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
That's a good question.

[ Hiccup's response was muttered darkly and more to himself than the man next to him. He shoves the stick, only barely useful for a short surprise, into the crevice of a rock while his free hand rubs the back of his palm against his eye.

It's a question he's asked himself a dozen times. After everything, violence is still something he doesn't choose first. Especially not when it was likely that whatever happened all the people just like them may be asked to fight. Or, he remembers the faces of mountainmen, people who didn't seem like they wanted any part of it.

Even now, he doesn't want to choose anything in that nature. It's why anxiety rolls off him in waves. The most helpless he's ever felt and with no reasonable solution — his own reasonable, anyway. ]


The fact they're letting us wandering the cave like this means they probably know it well themselves. It's unlikely there's a hidden way out... [ Unlikely, not impossible. Not for the first time he wished he had Toothless there, his echolocation would be useful right now. For a moment he sinks deeper into his thoughts, powerless and weak. He closes his eyes tighter before adding: ]

If we keep an eye on when they change out guards, a surprise then might work but...

[ Could any of them be fast enough right now? He's not so sure. ]

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