aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ That bad, huh? Even so, Dokja's smile stays in place as he shifts his gaze down to the cup now in his hands. His muddled mind briefly wonders if he had always been holding it, before he realizes that he doesn't have three hands and the third hand is attached to Abel.

Ah, he's really losing it over here...

His vision swims for a moment when he looks back up and over to his companion, and he has to wait a moment or two to realign his bearings. Right, the cavern, the sickness, Abel... ]

Abel, [ he says again, this time with concern laced in his tone. ] You didn't give in, did you?

[ To the voices. The voices that are still present now as they try to drown Dokja back into its murky depths, but he resists. Puts all his attention and focus on to the company sitting beside him, and finds that it helps somehow. ]

[ D-Dokja........

...that question takes him a bit by surprise; the last thing he was expecting was for someone knee-deep in Suffer Town to go and cast out concern elsewhere. but it just makes the little bubble of fondness, the empathetic tug, settle all the harder in him as he quickly shakes his head. no; he hasn't given in... the unpleasant caste of his face might suggest as much, or his unfortunately dirtied robes-- but these are details a muddled brain might not notice in times like these. ]

Did you think I'd do such a thing? Go and leave you behind...? For shame, Mr. Dokja...! I thought we had a perfectly personable friendship brewing here, and you go and wound me like this?

[ it comes out more amused than admonishing, even in jest; he has a feeling his friend is barely holding on; the True Gremlin Games can wait for another day -- a day much better and kinder to them than this one. and they will see it. ]

...Drink slow for me, okay? Small sips. I promise... even if it feels like hell now, you're going to be alright.

[ The relief that comes off of Dokja is practically palpable, his shoulders losing some of their earlier tension as he leans further into the cavern wall behind him. There's just something reassuring about someone he knows holding on and making this entire awful predicament feel... not as lonely.

How strange, he thinks, considering he's more than used to being alone. ]

I wouldn't have blamed you if you did.

[ He tries to keep his own tone lighthearted, which is easier now that he has the answer he had wanted to hear. Even so, he means it. This sickness ravaging their minds and bodies is so potent that he's having a hard time understanding why he himself hasn't folded yet.

A thought for another time as he listens to instructions, trembling hands bringing the cup of water up to his lips so he can take a tentative sip of water. Just lifting the cup, holding it up, tilting his head back to swallow, all of it puts an incredible strain on him. ]

[ sometimes, the strongest weapon against grief, and fear, and misery is this. just having someone there makes all that ails you a little more bearable. it might seem childish, but it's also terribly human, isn't it? not wanting to suffer alone?

not wanting to be lonely?

Abel's been blessed by the good fortune of friends and companions who've broken up loneliness in that way, and it's for that reason he's all too happy to pass on the good will. it doesn't hurt he genuinely likes Dokja; it isn't hard for him to muster up the desire to alleviate his pain and discomfort, even if all he can do is offer these small gestures that take the edge off at best. but something... something is better than nothing. ]

Please... you won't find it easy to get rid of me, I'm afraid. Now we've gone and become friends? I'll be like some unsightly mold that grows wherever you least expect-- it. Ah, that's actually. A terrible analogy, I-- I can do better. H-hold on, hold on.

[ he's putting on a good show of pretending to think of something that might not be as huge a self-own, but... in reality, Abel's busy keeping the cup steady and making sure that Dokja gets whatever he can into him.

he's so... weak. it tugs in his chest like a tightness to see him this way. ]

[ Become friends?

Don't mind as Dokja's eyes widen in surprise, the water he'd taken a sip of going down the wrong pipe, and suddenly he's coughing and hacking as he tries to remember how to breathe.

Friends. For the longest time, Kim Dokja didn't have any friends. His only "friend" was a character in a novel and it had been that way for over ten years of his life. And then, when the world went to shit, he'd found people who he thought he could consider to be his friends... But he'd always shied away from that term when describing them, preferring to use "companions" instead, not entirely sure if the relationship he considered was reciprocated.

So to hear this from Abel, who he'd known for not even a few weeks, is... It's unfamiliar. ]

... Sorry, [ he manages to wheeze in between gasping breaths. ] I drank that wrong.

[ --oh god. oh god, he's choking-- Abel is quickly pulling the cup away and free hand hovering fruitlessly in a sense of panic, ]

D-Dokja--? [ AAAH, please don't die...?!

but after a few coughs (and gentle pats on the back from Abel) produces some air in the other man's lungs, the priest realizes he's probably not killed his f r i e n d, and... yes, it just went down the wrong pipe or something. ]

A-are you sure you're alright...? Here, just... just take a breather, okay?! Scared me half to death, for goodness sake...!!

[ Maybe he deserves death, Abel, have you considered that?

But death by choking on a sip of water sounds like a really pathetic way to go, so Dokja perseveres and lightly thumps at his chest with a fist. The motion causes every muscle in his arm to scream in protest, but that's fine, that's okay. Breathing is more important.

He appreciates the assist, his rattling breaths starting to even back out and he can't even look at Abel right now. ]

I'm alright, [ he says, sounding slightly embarrassed. ] I was just surprised.

[ STOP??? he does NOT deserve death, thank you!!! smh.........

...Abel isn't quite sure he understands the vague sense of something Flustered going on here, but... he's rubbing Dokja's back as the other man slowly regathers his wits. and breathing, which-- is actually the important bit, so the priest fully intends to encourage that part! ]

Surprised? [ by. uh, what... exactly? ] I'm-- ah, not sure that I follow. Did I do something strange...?

[ Oh no... Oh, this is a bad spot to be in and Dokja has zero mental strength left to deal with it.

He'll just have to play it off. ]

No, you didn't do anything.

[ Yes, Abel very much did do something and that's shake Dokja's very core!!! But it's fine, he'll reason it away like he always does. Abel's so kind that he probably thinks of practically anyone he talks to as a friend. Some people are like that. ]

It's my fault. I didn't cough up any water on you, did I?

[ ...wh. what is going on!! Abel is so sincerely Lost, but... suppose if Dokja doesn't want to get into the nitty gritties, the priest will permit him that since he's looking so utterly rough at the moment. he gets a pass......

THIS TIME. ]

No, no... --Actually, maybe a little. But that's alright, it isn't like we aren't both a mess anyway, you know? Goodness, look at you worrying about something like that right now...

[ Dokja........ ]

...Well. Since my offer of water went over so swimmingly, my next concern was going to be if you could manage getting bundled up in a blanket, but I'm a bit concerned you might find some way to strangle yourself in it... Hm. This is quite a predicament, isn't it?

[ though the normal Rambling might be engaged for other purposes, here and now... it's simple distraction. Dokja doesn't look like he has much of energy for little more than existing, and even that seems tentative. so-- it's alright. Abel is happy to provide the Entertainment portion of this exchange, long as his friend simply hangs in there, so...

...so hang in there, alright...? please, don't-- don't give in. ]

[ EMBARRASSING... Now Abel's got spit water on him...

Though it's true that they're not exactly dressed to the nines so what does it matter? It's really just the idea that Dokja had been so flustered at the sudden reveal of being friends that's bothering him. Could he have been more ridiculous with his reaction?

But by the graces of generous Abel, they're moving on. ]

You've helped enough, really.

[ The water (.....) and the easy company have pulled him away from his dark thoughts, and the reprieve, however short it may be, settles his anxious mind. ]

Just sit here for a moment with me. You're going to run yourself into the ground taking care of other people.

[ ah... that earns a little tilt of his head in quiet inquiry, before Abel grumbles something petulant that might be a tad bit audible, ]

Please, as if I'm going anywhere. Honestly...

[ but he's shifting his position and seemingly taking Dokja up on his offer, coming to sit right beside him so that their shoulders meet. you know, for convenient leaning purposes. Abel might be an idiot, but he's a surprisingly large and conveniently steady one, ]

...You know, when they mentioned a 'ritual,' I really thought my 'being tossed into a volcano' idea was right on the mark. This is a very disappointing twist of fate.

[ if it's company Dokja wants? it's company Dokja gets, complete with a side of Endless Chatter to keep his mind hopefully preoccupied!!! one stop shopping for all your Suffer Cave needs...... ]

[ What are they feeding catholic priests to make them this big...

Sitting shoulder to shoulder like this is nice, though there's no way Dokja would ever voice such a thought because of course he wouldn't. Despite having been completely caught off-guard with the friend thing, he's found that he's genuinely taken a liking to Abel. Which... he supposes makes sense... if they really are friends...

Ah, no. He's going to get in his head about it.

Instead, he listens to the familiar chatter, nodding along with a slight smile. There's some light returning to Dokja's eyes as he listens, once more at ease at simply listening to someone else. ]

You would have rather the volcano?

Well, it would've been warmer at the very least~! And I bet that means the surrounding area wouldn't have been quite as depressing, so maybe we would've gotten to see a palm tree or something. Maybe the beach...? A-ah... you know, that really would've been real nice, right? I could do with a little sitting on the shores of Barcelona right about now, sipping a fruity cocktail, watching the cute girls on vacation building a sand castle, a-and... Maybe there's a mermaid~? --Mr. Dokja, have you gone on vacations before? Actually, where are you from? Somewhere warm?

[ 'friends,' yes, and this is the sort of thing one invites upon themselves when getting into friendships...... is Dokja a masochist? 🤔 ]

[ Explain why everyone thinks Dokja is a masochist.

And because Dokja comes from a sad, traumatic background™, he's never been on vacation even once. He's always been too poor for that, all of his expenses going to rent, food, and other utilities and even then he was barely scraping by.

But does he say as much? ]

Ah, no, I've always been too busy.

[ Fruity cocktails and cute girls, huh... Abel has completely lost him!! Still, it's fun to hear him talk about these things and pull them both away from the situation at hand. ]

I'm from Seoul in South Korea. Our summers are unbearably hot, but I guess I miss it now that I'm freezing in this cave.

[ if it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck...... it must be a masochist? that's how the saying goes right,

Abel is eying his company a little curiously at that, though, ]

South Korea...? [ oh. ...oh. right; their worlds are very different-- Abel is recalling the bits they'd exchanged out in the ruins before-- uh, all this. ] Ah, you know... maybe too hot isn't so great, either. It's nice to have a little in-between, right? Or some water to escape to and cool off~! W-with some cute mermaids~?

[ just. just let a man daydream about mermaids. join him, if you'd be so kind..... ]

But you've really never been on vacation...? Hm... Do you mind if I ask how old you are, Mr. Dokja? Have you ever traveled outside of your homeland?

[ The only mermaids Dokja will be imagining are the man-eating kind that lure sailors into the sea. Yeah, those sound freaking cool.

But, uh. Is it strange? That he's never been on vacation? It's not something he'd ever thought about, but now that it's raising questions, he's feeling a bit unsure. ]

I'm...

[ This is an interesting pause as Dokja tries to remember how old he is. It's been so long since anyone's asked, but he's... almost certain that the last time he'd known his age, he'd been... ]

Twenty-eight.

[ Hm, that sounds right. ]

I've traveled outside of my country, yes, but not in the conventional sense.

[ wow haha funnily enough that's just the sort of mermaid Abel was thinking of, too...... m-miss Jolie, call him,

--but, goodness!! thoughts of mermaid fly (swim?) right out the window as Dokja offers his reply that, apparently..... required some thought??? DOKJA?? Abel will write it off as his poor friend's brain being fuzzy and addled in his current state... y-yeah. that's just why he had to take a moment to find his answer, right? RIGHT, Dokja...?? ]

Twenty-eight and you've never had occasion to take a vacation?! A-are you a workaholic, or are you just driven into the dirt by some demonic boss or something...?! Mr. Dokja, working himself to the bone...?

[ Describe the man-eating!!! Not the cuteness!!!! That'll get Dokja's attention.

And yeah, sure... Right, his head's just a little bit fuzzy. It doesn't at all have to do with having spent over twenty-thousand years all by himself. 😕 That would be crazy... That would drive Dokja crazy. ]

I just haven't had the opportunity. That's all.

[ His smile is a bit strained at the edges as he lies his ass off like always. ]

Does that mean you've been on a lot of vacations, Abel?

[ ok but what if she's cute while she man-eats u????? have the best of BOTH WORLDS dokja do NOT think small here,

actually there is a lot of Concerning things happening in these brackets i am just

Concerned, Abel is Concerned, everyone shut up and be Concerned for Dokja for a sec here ]

Hm... [ yeah, he definitely doesn't look like like's buying this, but-- suppose his usual Twenty Prying Questions will have to wait til later. Dokja looks sincerely miserable, so... he gets a free pass. for now. ] Ah, who, me? Oh, no, no no~! But I'm a touring priest, and I work for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs which sees me abroad nearly all the time. I haven't had a holiday or vacation in ten years, can you believe it?! Not even CHRISTMAS. My boss works me like a dog, Mr. Dokja!! A dog!!

[ this is accompanied by many wide sweeping and emphatic gestures, just to like, sell it all. yeah his life is SUFFERING, totally, sooo sad, imagine having to work a lot lmao, instead of say being trapped by yourself for eighty billion years or something, some people have REAL problems and Abel's clearly one of them?? ]

[ that's way too big brain for dokja's small brain

Also, it's very clear Abel is Distressed, and honestly?? It does sound like a problem... Dokja's had his fair share of terrible bosses, so he can at least commiserate here. No one wants to be worked like... like a dog!!! As Abel so aptly put it. ]

At least they haven't followed you here.

[ Because... that's a bright side to this otherwise shitty situation, right? Unless... ]

... Unless they have?

...Ah.

[ Abel goes terribly still all of a sudden, and then he sends a jerky, horrified look over his shoulder as if expecting to find someone simply lurking there. ]

N-no...? No, she isn't here, I-- please don't say such a thing, Mr. Dokja...! You really will give me some kind of complex, th-this... this is frightening enough an experience without having to watch my back for fear of her crawling out of the shadows, those piercing eyes ready to callously hand me yet another five days worth of paperwork and send me to the far reaches of Earth on four dinars to--

[ he cuts himself off, tugging at a fistful of hair.......

i-is this working?? is Dokja distracted...? is it time to try and goad him into drinking more water, hm... ]

[ THAT BAD???

But... maybe it's because they're talking about something so mundane and ordinary? It brings out a small laugh in Dokja as he ignores the shooting pain constricting his chest with every huff of his breath. The idea of paperwork being handed to Abel when they're stuck in this place is such a ridiculous picture to imagine.

And it's exactly what he needs to hear about right now. ]

Thank you, Abel.

[ For the interruption to his thoughts... For all the effort being made here. Yes, Dokja is successfully distracted. ]

[ ...ha. Dokja...

Abel's expression softens some as he lets some of the excessive melodrama fade away, something fonder - and apologetic - taking its place. after a deep breath in, then out... he leans a bit to rest his shoulder against his friend's in a gentle bump. ]

Please... what are you thanking me for? You really must be feverish, hm?

[ this silly man... ]

...Hey, Mr. Dokja? If you want to close your eyes for a while and try to rest, then... I'll make sure no one disturbs you. We should try to take advantage of the quiet while it lasts, right? So...

[ There's no attempt to move away at the gentle bump, only an answering press of shoulders in return.

Feverish... He very much is. But it's bearable now with someone at his side. Dokja's always thought that loneliness suited him best, but how can he continue to convince himself of that when it's people like Abel who can make living just a touch more tolerable.

He closes his eyes as suggested, head lolling to the side to rest comfortably against his... his companion's shoulder. ]

Sorry, I don't want to inconvenience you, but...

[ His voice trails off for a moment, the heavy weight of exhaustion settling over it. Like this, with his eyes closed and a warm presence beside him, the lure of sleep beckons. ]

Yeah... Just for a little while.

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inutilis - 2022-03-22 01:43 (UTC) - Expand

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