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

Eleven | Dragon Quest XI S | Martyr

[bearshermark]

[What begins as trepidation and unease as they're lead down toward the "throne room" morphs swiftly into terror by the shackle of magical energy dragging them all down. He's cooperated up to the moment, but now refuses to drink until he isn't given a choice in the matter and its force upon him.

Eleven's throat burns, his eyes water, and he throws what he can of his weight against the unwelcome touches while he spits in vain on the ritual floor.

Then he watches a body dissolve into black liquid, spreading through the ritual floor, and for a long, bone-chilling moment, is certain they're all going to be sacrificed in much the same way.

Moments later, he almost wishes for it, screaming as darkness awakes within him]


1. Sickness

Eleven loses his surroundings. He writhes on the floor, sickened and retching, physically trying to purge the corruption from his body. Tears spring to his eyes as unwelcome sensations spread through both mind and body as though they seek to remake him.

"You won't," he promises the unseen force with a snarl. He grits his teeth and clutches at his chest over the shard embedded there. "I'm still.. Yggdrasil's. You can't have me." His eyes flash yellow. "I am light."

But the darkness is insidious, whispering in his ear, crawling under his very skin. His chest aches. Memory flashes through a sense he doesn't understand.

You were light, the presence cajoles. No longer. Accursed Darkspawn.

His breath catches and his eyes finally snap open to the solid world, seeking an anchor in a nearby soul.


2. Resistance

Cold and hunger plague them all, but it's a type of suffering he'll take over the untold wretchedness that threatened to swallow him more than once. Even still it disturbs him, recalling the worst of sensations with a shudder that has nothing to do with the lack of warmth. He's more clear-eyed now, steadier if still prone to running to cough up blackened saliva as his stomach seizes in another fit to purge it from his body.

Once he's regained himself, Eleven settles next to someone that looks cold or still struggles with the effects of that sinister poison.

"There's still light," he assures tiredly with a shiver. He spares a half-hearted glare for "the Aion" and those that have embraced their illness and now turned against the rest of them. "We'll find it."


3. Wildcard
[Anything adjacent to these prompts that doesn't quite fit, or another idea altogether? hmu! Any format/tense is fine! I'm happy to match]

1

[perfectlygoodbird]

"Eleven!" Meteion is alone at the Innocent's throne, and she does not like it, so it's a simple thing for the entelechy to scuttle and scurry her way over to her friend and brush hair out of his eyes. She's not well off herself, having suffered a similar fate, but for the moment, her concern is for others.

For a moment, she wrings her hands together, but steels herself and takes one of his hands in hers, fingers curling around his palm.

"You aren't alone here. I'm with you, I promise!"

[bearshermark]

He's instantly grateful for her presence, letting his fingers curl around her hand in turn. He knows in that moment that he would have taken absolutely anyone's hand if they'd offered it, and feels pathetically hapless for that knowledge. But it's something beyond the plague of darkness- something solid, real, and good.

"Thank you."

Eleven breathes and shudders through another terrible, crawling darkness. Grits his teeth and focuses on the warmth of her hand and the concern in her eyes.

"Goddess, what have they done? Are you all right..?"

[perfectlygoodbird]

Meteion only smiles back, sadly, and shakes her head, but pauses. "As all right as I can be? Circumstances being what they are."

He can probably see the mark cut into the back of her hand--the one not clasped in his. The bright blue of her hair, her eyes--it's dimmed a bit, and there's some bruising on her upper arms--likely where they'd had to hold her down to conduct her part in the ritual. For all that, Meteion is doing her best to project calm--she refuses to force it, but being a calm and reassuring presence? That is what she's attempting to do.

"How do you feel? Do you need anything? I can try and get some food...water? A blanket?" They're limited, but she's fairly unoffensive--and Meteion intends to use that aspect of herself to help whomever she can.

[bearshermark]

"Awful," he answers with an honestly he feels just as terrible about- but neither would lying in this instance be of any use. His hand tightens around hers, expression twisting into something angry and foreboding as tendrils of that darkness spread and threaten to override his own will.

Eleven's hands shake and he drops his head to the floor. "I don't want to be corrupted- I can't. I'm the Luminary; I'm meant to bring light.."

[perfectlygoodbird]

Meteion clasps the shaking hand in hers, adopting a stubborn look on her face. "I don't know what that means...but you aren't alone! You aren't! You can fight it! I believe in you."

Whatever being the Luminary meant. Maybe it was like being the Warrior of Light from her own world. It didn't surprise her that there were similarities of being in other people, other worlds. There was a need for heroes...

"Close your eyes, Eleven. Steel yourself. I know it's hard, but you can win!" While Meteion knows it's not like her to call for hope...well, even she can turn over a new leaf, can't she?

[bearshermark]

Goddess, but he does not want to close his eyes. In that place is only darkness and terrible whispers. But is that how this battle was meant to be won? Could it be won? Or was he too weak..

Eleven groaned and shook his head. "I'm not strong enough- I wasn't, before.."

[perfectlygoodbird]

Meteion can't help but frown at that. She's had the example of heroes set before her. And this...there's a certain lack. It sets her on edge, and the birdlike girl shakes her head.

"That doesn't sound like the words of a hero." It might sound more than a bit judgmental, though that isn't what Meteion intends, here. Though now that she's begun, she's not sure what to say to bolster him. And she is well aware that he needs it. The silence stretches out for a long, uncomfortable moment--likely so for both of them!--before the words come.

"I know it's hard, but you're stronger than you know. I know you've gotten knocked down a peg--we all have, here. Can you get up again? Or at least try?"

She's sure he has memories of people who are counting on him; actually mentioning it could be good, or bad, so Meteion declines to do so for now.

[bearshermark]

Eleven flinches. She's right, and he hates that nothing in himself feels remotely heroic. Are those his own doubts, or the poison of the insidious darkness within him? Goddess, he can't let it win- can't let it corrupt him.

It's an effort just to raise himself up to his elbows and he breathes hard for the effort.

"Why is darkness so much stronger than light..?"

2 - Resistance

[lachtara]

Even if he's spent this life tucked away in the icy North of Garlemald, that doesn't mean that the cold is comfortable. They've given them such paper-thin clothes and pathetic excuses for blankets while expecting them to sit on icy stone floors. It would be a miracle for anyone not to be cold.

Emet-Selch has pulled what blankets he can find tightly around his shoulders. He leans against a wall and looks half asleep as he looks listlessly at the ceiling.

It's at that point when someone sits beside him. Emet-Selch rolls his head in their direction and gives this stranger the flattest look, almost as if to say 'what now'. Finding the Light. Oh, what a marvelous thing to say to someone who drew strength from the darkness. "I shall await that moment with bated breath, I assure you." He says.

[bearshermark]

Eleven frowns and pulls his knees up to his chest. The man he's sat beside sounds far from genuine and he doesn't terribly appreciate the implied doubt he can sense in that sentiment.

He rubs his hands together, then slots them beneath his arms and forces out a breath.

"It's important," he insists, albeit in a small voice. "For everything that lives."

[lachtara]

"Is it." His mind drifts back to a world drowning in the light the so fervently desired. A desire that took their world quickly and then lingered to diminish what remained. "Well, I would be remiss to argue. Let's hope you find your precious light, shall we?"

[bearshermark]

Eleven hunches forward, frown deepening. Though the man said he wasn't arguing, it rather sounded like he wanted to.

"Nothing grows well under darkness," he says after several long moments, voice quiet. "People begin to starve and lose hope. It's terrible. All of this is."

[lachtara]

It's reminiscent of sentiments he's heard countless times before. Always through the lens of those with short lives, seeing things through an equally shortsighted view.

"And you've experience with the subject?" He asks.

[bearshermark]

Eleven's eyes flick toward the other's, wondering why it feels as though he's being challenged.

"..Yes," he admits, glancing away again. But as his gaze passes over a number of others still sick and still suffering, a surge of emotion wells up in his chest. He struggles to contain it for how closely their circumstances have brought all of his uncertainty and failings to the surface, and swallows with difficulty.

"How can anyone do this?"

[lachtara]

This time, his response is less of a challenge and more of a sincere answer. "That is a question worth deep consideration. Which I suppose we've all had ample time to do." He would have to puzzle out what it could possibly mean, or how it could be accomplished.

So he turns to the stranger and asks, "You are not from this place, are you?"

[bearshermark]

He meets his gaze and hesitates.

"No." He knows he isn't alone in that, but now he wonders about the rest. "..Are you?"

Sickness

[killandrecycle]

[A derisive chuckle comes from the darkness nearby.]

Did you SERIOUSLY just claim to be 'light'?

[The voice comes from a girl bundled up in a robe obviously far too large for her. With the poor lighting its difficult to tell, but she looks mostly like a normal, if not small, human.]

I've heard that said plenty of times. You know what happened to all of those people? They thought their 'light' would protect them, and every last one of them is DEAD now. Depending on something as useless as that is a great way to m find an early grave. There's no light here, there's no light anywhere. Don't be so stupid.

[bearshermark]

[Eleven takes in her appearance with a pained rasp and open anguish]

There is, still- has to be. [Goddess, but he needs that to be true even as the darkness lures him to doubt] All cannot be lost yet.

[killandrecycle]

[If the girl feels anything from the obvious pain her words may have brought, she doesn't show it.]

Oh? Show me, then. Prove me wrong. Because all I see when I look around is darkness.

[Other then a few fires here and there, its true in a literal sense at least.]

Its not like I care, but you're just going to make yourself suffer acting like that. Its kind of pathetic to watch, really. It'll be a lot easier to just give that foolishness up before the world proves you wrong.

[bearshermark]

[His teeth grit together, and the hollow in his chest aches. No, it isn't hollow anymore- or is it?

Goddess, but he can't. And she knows- she must- that he can't. How cruel. A vile person, he thinks, then wonders if she'd been kind once- if this corruption had stolen that from her, if that same corruption awaited him should he fall again.

It's an effort to move. He's too vulnerable- too weak- but he has to try]

I will. ..Goddess willing, I will.

[killandrecycle]

[If she was kind once, she certainly didn't seem to be now. She seems to be enjoying the discomfort she's causing, a little smile touching her face at the suffering. Perhaps she was dangerously close to falling to the power writhing through her. Or, maybe, this was just her nature.]

No, you won't. You know that, I know that. Everyone around us knows that.

[She starts to move forward, but scarcely moves herself before her face clenches in pain and she stumbles, managing to catch herself on one knee before collapsing to the ground face first. Regardless of her nature, she had not completely fallen to the kenoma yet.]

Damn it, now you have me all worked up.

[Her voice sounds no more friendly, but she sounds a little weaker now.]

[bearshermark]

[He watches her collapse with a frisson of worry. Despite her manner, she looks young and no one should suffer this. She isn't wholly lost yet then, though saving her seems a task beyond him and the dark poison spread through his body whispers the futility of trying]

..Do you believe in suffering this darkness?

[killandrecycle]

[Suffering was definitely the right word. She wasn't quick to raise back to her feet as the vile thing within her hammered steadily at her resistance. Small patches of skin on her face and hands turned to an unhealthy color of gray, but eventually the pain seems to pass. All the scorn is gone from her voice when she finally speaks, only to be replaced with annoyance and undisguised anger.]

Of course not! What sort of idiotic question is that, 'light'? I didn't ask for this any more then any of us did. But I'm just as powerless as you right now. If I wasn't, do you think I'd be wasting my time talking to you?

[Her gaze turns toward the soldiers guarding the way out, as her hands clench into fists.]

They'll pay for what they're doing to me. I'll make them suffer far worse then I am right now.

[Though if that resolve lasts after she finally succumbs has yet to be seen.]

[bearshermark]

[She reminds him of Veronica a little, though she takes her attitude a fair bit further. Goddess, but does he miss his friends.

Uncertainty roils. He can feel it, the threads of anger that echo a desire for vengeance. It tugs at his heart with memories of those wrongs committed against him and coats his tongue in bile]

Don't- don't let it take you. [His pride is a tattered thing, lying beneath her mannerisms without refute. A small matter that she doesn't care for him, but if in despising him she can combat the darkness, it's all the same end.

For that matter, he feels a compulsion to prove her wrong and drags himself up to his elbows to throw her a hard, wild grin]

No point in losing to me, is there?