event: a gentle arrival

[thestewards]

I won't give up so don't give in
You've fallen down but you can rise again

► The OOC plotting post for this event can be found here.

► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.

SWEET DREAMS AREN'T MADE OF THIS
The dream isn't unpleasant, just strange. Mist curls around you long after the woman fades. You hold a Jewel in your hand, marveling at its multifaceted surface and feeling the thrill of new, untapped power. Anticipation surges in you: that feeling of wrongness that so often accompanies a nightmare you can't wake from. Anticipation becomes fear. You look up, certain that at any moment the mist will pull back and reveal something gruesome and terrible.

A scream. A piercing wail, that sound that accompanies a violent death. The sound doesn't come from your dream, and it jolts you awake. You…

i. Are alone in your room, and have a moment to gather yourself. Wherever you laid down to rest, you've woken up somewhere different. Somewhere strange. There's a comforting weight in the air—a feeling of welcome, of belonging. Then another scream pierces the night. In your dream, the woman asked for a hero. Maybe you already consider yourself a hero or maybe you don't, but now seems as good a time as any to either be one or start pretending.

ii. See a dark shape looming over you. You have no time to assess the place you've woken up, though you have a quick flash of insight that your dream must have been more than a dream and the woman to whom you spoke has brought you to her world and her home. There's no time to marvel at this. The shadow above you draws back, a pistol Breaker in their hand. Even if you've never seen a gun before, you can somehow taste their malice and hatred. They're pointing a weapon at you, and your scream might be the next to tear through the midnight darkness.

Landen Hunters have infiltrated the Queen's Residence. How stalwartly you choose to fight them off is up to you, but you'll quickly encounter members of Fayura's First Circle defending against the attackers. Allairavar rallies the people of the court, ensuring the most vulnerable are well guarded in the massive dining hall. Loren maintains a Green shield around the room, and only those of the court or the Strangers can enter. There, Healers tend to the wounded, and the children who live at the residence are kept safe.

Amidst the turmoil, you overhear snippets of conversation:

A Healer, quietly, to her patient: If the Lady isn't here, she and Prince Verim must be working some spell to protect us. Rest easy, Prince.

Lord August, speaking quickly to Prince Lachlan as they rush by: —monsters find out the Queen would be bringing help to us tonight? Who told the Hunters—

An injured footman, worried: —see the flames through the window. Landens live in Old Town. How unsurprising that the Guilds would come up with a distraction that hurts their own, too.

FLAME AND FURY
Beyond the Queen's Residence, the Old Town Bazaar burns. Horrified faces gather at the east-facing dining hall windows, and distraught whispers fill the air. Someone cries out that their sister lives in Old Town.

Loren reacts first. He calls for volunteers from the Strangers, and you have the distinct impression that he measures you by your response. "The Hunters—" He grimaces, realizing the Strangers probably don't know what he means. "—landen assassins came in the night to kill you. They've lit part of our city on fire to prevent us from following them. We don't know who, specifically, came for you, but we know where they've gone to ground, so we don't need to chase them down. What we do need to do is stop the fire from spreading. The First Circle will stay here and defend the residence. Who among you Strangers, those of you who came here tonight, will help with the fires?"

Those who agree to help are sent with Allairavar to put out the flames. As you travel with him, Allairavar provides a crash-course in creative application of Craft.

*You wear the Jewels, so you can shield. You should know how, if the Lady's spell worked. Shield yourselves to protect from the flames. Use Craft to shield the buildings and starve out the fires,* he says on a psychic thread so that everyone can hear him and he doesn't need to waste his breath by shouting. *Rescue anyone trapped in the buildings regardless of who they are. Be on the look out for Hunters—the assassins Loren mentioned. They're sneaky bastards, and they'll use our focus on helping the people to put knives in our backs if they can.*

Put out fires, use your powers or Craft to support buildings before they collapse, and rescue landens and Blood alike from the damage done by the Hunter Guild. Be wary and alert, and try not to damage the city more than the fires already have should you encounter Hunters. Blood families will go with the Strangers more easily than landen families, but Allairavar makes it clear that if you have to physically remove someone from a burning home or one that is about to collapse then that is exactly what you should do.


REST FOR THE WEARY
Dawn breaks on the horizon, painting the city of Draega a hazy red. With little wind, the smoke hovers around the city. In Old Town, even buildings that didn't burn begin to smell like the fire.

A somber weight falls on the Queen's Residence. In the aftermath of the night's events, Loren introduces himself to each of the Strangers individually if possible but to groups if he must: He is the Queen's Steward, and his Queen was the one who worked the spell to bring them to Draega. He apologizes for the circumstance of their arrival and that the Queen is currently indisposed. Everyone, he explains, can stay in the residence for as long as they would like, and he makes it clear that by no means are the Strangers required to remain in the residence nor will they be viewed with suspicion or distrust by the court if they decide to find their own homes.

Those with medical skills or healing powers are brought to the dining hall to help the Healers. The Healer in charge is a young, Yellow Jeweled woman who has exhausted her Craft and desperately needs assistance. Anyone who inquires about her position within the court, either to her or others, learns that she is highly skilled and spent her childhood in the landen Medico Guild before taking a chance on her half-Blood heritage and making an Offering. While she wears one of the lightest Jewels in the residence, even Allairavar submits silently to her attentions and he offers no excuse when she chastises him for getting injured.

Midway through the day, Allairavar and Loren make the mistake of having an unshielded conversation near the dining hall. Anyone nearby can overhear…

"I spoke briefly to Verim," Loren says, voice low and urgent. "They weren't caught in the fire, but Allairavar…"

A muscle in Allairavar's jaw ticks. His massive, membranous wings fan out to fill the hall before he pulls them tight to his back. "She's injured."

Loren nods. "Badly. The backlash of power struck her hard, and Verim couldn't help her absorb it." Tension lines Allairavar's body, and Loren quickly adds, "You can't kill them. She brought them here to help us—"

"Our Queen is vulnerable," Allairavar hisses. "There are strangers in our home." A dangerous, wild look fills his eyes. "Does she plan on doing this again? We're not letting her." He rocks back and forth on his feet with the nervous energy of a man contained and about to explode.

"So we'll strand these people here?" Gentle concern fills Loren's eyes. "She'll need to do this once more to send them home."

All that nervous energy abruptly vanishes, and Allairavar bends a sleepy-eyed, malevolent look on Loren. "Would you ask our Queen to destroy herself for these people?"

Violence cloaks both men, but the threat of action rests solely on Allairavar. Loren keeps his voice gentle. Soothing. "Do you really think she would have made the offer if she couldn't send them home? Do you think she would truly be so cruel as to demand they come here with no chance of ever returning home?"

Allairavar is quiet for a long moment. The tension slowly flows out of him, leaving him looking weary and exhausted. "Yes," he finally says, tone grim. "Because to her, the price is worth it to save the world. And she would accept it for any of them if they asked." He runs a hand over his head and sighs heavily. Without another word, he turns and walks away. Loren does not call after him.

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Just because the Blood have no law against murder doesn't mean you can kill anyone on the street—or in their homes, isn't that right, Lord Aren?

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Quite true, Evandra! Unless someone has done something to merit execution, wanton murder is generally frowned upon. A Queen can demand a price for the death of someone in her Territory or court.

[A thoughtful hum from Evandra.] So, the Hunter Guild's attack on the Queen's Residence last night isn't illegal, but it was incredibly gauche. And now they face possible retaliation from her and her court. How ghastly!

[Aren agrees.] A dreadful affair. Remember: just because you can doesn't mean you should.

[Evandra:] Quite so. Something for us all to consider. As always, I'm Evandra.

[With solemn dignity, Lord Aren says:] I'm Aren, and you've been listening to…

[Together:] Etiquette with Evandra and Aren. [Jaunty outro music plays. Perhaps they should reconsider this particular tune on dark occassions.]

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] …overcast and snowy days with temperatures hovering around freezing during the day and dropping at night. Need to tune up your e-line heaters? The Elektriline Guild is offering a limited-time discount this week to ensure you stay warm around the clock.

the news
…distressed to hear of the incident at the Queen's Residence. [The man speaks in a slow, smooth voice. His words ring with heartfelt sincerity.] Though Lady Fayura and I don't often see eye-to-eye— [He chuckles at this, as though he's made a joke. Another man, presumably an interviewer, chuckles along with the air of someone who isn't sure this is a joke they should be laughing at.] —I condemn the actions taken by the Hunter Guild. Destroying people's homes is simply unacceptable.

But one wonders what that surge of power was just prior to midnight. Craft, surely, but to what end? Was that the spell the Queen used to summon these… Strangers from other Realms? Surely we can agree that such action, taken independently of the Guilds and the Ebon Council, much as we don't get along, is cause for concern. I believe the Lady has overstepped, and it is my firm hope that Lord Grejor issues an injunction against her for such flagrant disregard for the law.

[The interviewer speaks, and his voice is faintly strained.] Thank you, Grand Master Niall, for talking to us on this issue.

Comments

[cmbr]

one;

[ It is perhaps unsurprising that Sen's vision gives way to fire. She's tied to it with her life, after all. Her identity, the Title that she wears, the covenant that ties her to the Earth. Flame is in her instinct, and it is with fire that she retaliates at the Hunter seeking to make a groggy woman his prey. She makes a gesture at him and it bursts from her fingers - not strong enough to immolate him, for she is unprepared; but his clothes and hair are ablaze.

The Hunter sputters, screams as the heat consumes him, staggering out the way he came. Maybe he'll die. Maybe he'll make it out alive, but the few seconds of interruption is enough for her to wrestle the Breaker from his grip. She doesn't know what it is, but it looks like a gun and presumably functions like one.

A sound - maybe you moved, and she's only just noticed your presence. The Breaker is pointed at you for a heartbeat before she fully processes what she's seeing, and the weapon is slowly lowered. ]

Bit of a terse welcome they give, [ Sen tilts her head. Her expression is grim. ] Who are you?


two;

[ They've offered her a weapon, but she's taken none. Swords were too heavy. Staves too difficult for her to coordinate. The Earth beneath her is silent; empty. If it was any other situation, she would have no lifestream to draw from in order to cast her magic, but the city is aflame. Fire dances through the streets, and there is no reason why she shouldn't be able to command them.

So here she is, standing in the middle of the street in front of a building swathed in flame. Sen raises her hands as a conductor would, and in a single gesture brings her arms up towards the sky. The fire around her does the same, rising up in a plume of red and white - and most importantly, leaving the building behind. The flare curls around itself in a serpentine display and burns out in the air, leaving nothing behind but the inky black night sky.

As absorbed as she is in channeling the flame, she only comes to her senses once it extinguishes. Perhaps there is a Hunter behind a building waiting to take aim, and she's not noticed yet. ]


three;

[ Draega is a strange sort of place. Magic is abound, technology is not as abound, and... most importantly, the earth is silent. It's what stands out the most to her. Back home, the song of Gaia was an ever-present undertone in her perception, like the sound of one's heartbeat. Here - none of it. Either she was deaf to its call, or it was already dead.

Still, there's much more to do around here than just sitting and pondering what happened. People need help and Sen's determined to get things done. ]

*Can anyone hear me? I need a hand moving this fallen beam. Appreciate it!*

[ Her telepathic voice is firm, committed. As for her physical presence, she's helping out a landen family gain access to their home again - no fire, but only heavy weight and she's. Not good at lifting. ]


wildcard

[ hit me with something and I'll roll with it! alternatively we can work out a custom prompt if none of these work for you. ]

MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF | OTA

[mollymocked]

𝐢. 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒

[Sleeping well doesn't come easily when you've been dead and actually remember being dead, as opposed to being that empty, terrified catatonic thing he was when he crawled out of a grave. There's a bit of anxiety that makes it fitful. Something could go wrong. He could not wake up. He could wake up someone else. Is he even alive or is this some ephemeral afterlife?

But holding the Jewel, marveling over it... That's comforting. Odd, but comforting...but then it all goes to shit and Molly hears that piercing scream and all he can think of is Beau. Did she scream as Lorenzo stabbed him- he can't recall. Did he imagine everything and is he back on the battlefield seconds before bleeding out or-

He jolts awake and there's a figure standing over him with a gun and he only recognizes it for what it is because he tried to take Nott's from her out of concern for what she might do with it. The gun is pointed at his head, and his first thought is, Fucking really?

His second thought is, The afterlife is a lot like real life, isn't it?

Summer's Dance is under his pillow. All he has to do is reach a bit to touch the hilt and will the spell to work. Death counts as a long rest, doesn't it? He shimmers out and the bullet meant for his head smashes into the headboard instead. Molly reappears behind the assassin and stabs him in the back with far too much ferocity.] You truly picked a bad day to fuck with me, friend.

[He yanks the sword out of the man's back with a sickening sound and he collapses in a heap, and Molly's marching towards his door before the bastard even hits the floor. There's sounds of gunshots and fighting up and down the corridors and he booms:] Next!

[He's really in the mood to kill something about now.]


𝐢𝐢. 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐘

[tw: SELF-HARM]

[All Loren had to say was Hunters, and Molly's reaction was cold-blooded and this is not really a side of him that warrants a good first impression to most, but his friends were kidnapped by slavers and he died trying to protect them and he's a little testy right now. He answers the call and gets a second sword for his troubles- not as pretty as his prop swords and not magical like Summer's Dance, but he's balanced now, and that's good. That's wonderful.

He goes with the intention to rescue people, but his focus, at first, is on cleaving a swath through the remaining Hunters trying to take advantage of the situation. He's a whirling dervish of death. At one point, he rakes the blades of his swords across the back of his neck and the air around him chills briefly as ice coats the blades from hilt to tip, adding an extra layer of pain to each attack.

He does, eventually, put the swords away and go to help with the fires. He lays his bright coat aside and goes into burning buildings to pull people out, which is impressive, but also means he ends up coming out with people screaming and kicking since a purple demon emerging from the flames doesn't look helpful at all. He's not very strong so moving flaming debris is out of the question, but he's doing his best with fire resistance and whatever he can use to get the fires out. It's just like Alfield. That went well, didn't it? Not like the Shepherds.

... It's gonna be a bit before he gets over that. He died without regrets. Living and living somewhere else means he kind of has to work out some shit.]


𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘

[Molly overhears the conversation between Loren and Allairavar, though it doesn't irritate him much. He never asked to be returned to life because he assumed that wasn't within her power, and really if it means he died as Molly and never has to know who Lucien was... Worth it. What he asked is enough to make him comfortable and now that the fighting is done, he can relax and try to settle. Everything will be okay and if it isn't, well that's just life, isn't it? This is just his second. (Or third, he guesses.)

A lot of this is too much for him to think about anyway. He's too much of a nihilist to worry about it, and he's here to right a wrong he couldn't right in life and everything else is just an afterlife that he got conscripted in. That part is irritating, but these people don't seem like a bunch of privileged fucks so far. He'll find ways to correct that if they start being unfair. For now, he's resting.

Specifically, cross-legged in the courtyard with his Tarot cards. He's trying to see if he can feel that little tingle of something that indicates a genuine preternatural feeling or even anything that connects him to the Moonweaver, but so far it's just a lot of slight of hand tricks. He's gonna master that switch trick he tried on the firbolg kid one of these days and it's gonna be great.

In the meantime, there's a lavender demon in a technicolor nightmare coat doing card tricks and readings for stressed out court members and Strangers, alike, and trying to be charming with some degree of success. You gotta meet the locals somehow, he guesses, and this gives him a good opportunity to gauge what these people are like.]

𝐢𝐯. 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

[For anything else, including Influence quests as discussed on the ooc post or otherwise!]

Alice Liddell | OTA

[playing_hearts]

Sweet Dreams aren't Made of This

[Alice is used to strange dreams. Her whole life was highjacked by a strange dream so she's far less surprised than she probably should be to discover that last night's dream was real. What is surprising is the dark shape looming above her. She scarcely has time to do anything more than roll out of the way before he shoots, narrowly missing her. She makes a desperate dash for the door, trying to escape.]

Someone help!!


Flame and Fury

[Alice didn't hesitate for a second to volunteer to help with the fires. She can't do much to put out the fires, so her focus is on rescuing people. A half hour in and she's exhausted, covered in soot, and somehow still pushing on. Right now she's trying to carefully dislodge a beam to save a trapped child. And then she spots you.]

Hold up that side. Carefully though, or the whole thing will fall.

[Yeah that was more a command than a request. Pleasantries can wait.]


Rest for the Weary

A-
[Alice is spending most of her time after the battle helping to care for the injured. She only has basic first aid training, but in a situation like this you have to do what you can. The healer in charge has her bandaging the more lightly wounded while more experienced hands tend to those who need it.]

Okay, you're next. Let me take a look...


B-(Loren)

[Alice had only been passing by, and hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But now that she's heard it all, there's no way she can ignore it. She has the sense to wait for Allairaver to leave. That guys strikes her as far more temperamental than he ever wants to deal with. Loren seems alright though. She approaches hesitantly, with a worried frown.]

Um, I'm sorry but I couldn't help but overhear. Is the queen okay?


Wildcard!

[Got anything else? I can roll with it.]

B

[agentlenpc]

[It's weariness, he would insist, that has him starting ever so slightly at the intrusion, but he doesn't bother to disguise his moment of surprise. Not even when asked about something that gets his back up.

But this is one of the Strangers, those that the Queen herself brought through. He can forgive the letting down his guard this much even. This time.]

She's... You'll find that magic can often take quite the toll here. She's capable of much, but even queens need their rest.

[thricefold]

i;; a rude awakening.
warnings for violence.

[ the situation reminds her much too much of the time she was being offered up as a sacrifice to the coven. that association alone is enough to have zita pushing herself out of bed in an attempt to escape the strange room, her vision suddenly tumbling and spinning as the stranger throws themselves at her and they both fall to the floor.

zita is suddenly aware of a sharp and intense pain that blooms somewhere on her back. it hurts. it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurts and the pain and the fear and the anger is all she can think of as she tries to throw the person off of her, viciously elbowing from behind as she tries to scramble back up to her knees.

she's not going to die here. the others back at the carnival- curtis and henry- penelope and diane- she's not going to die here and leave them alone- ]

Get off of me! [ she kicks. she screams. she makes enough noise and fuss that she hopes someone hears what's going on to try and help. at least investigate so she can have some distraction. she struggles with the assailant when she feels them make a grab for the dagger that must still be embedded in her back. the attempt to twist it out has her both seeing stars and renewing her resolve. ] Let me go!

ii;; into the fire.

[ but the evening only progresses from there.

the moment she hears a woman cry out about her sister being, she knows she has to do something. her back still aches from the stab that should, in theory, have 'killed' her and put her out of commission, but she's still standing and there are others in need.

the moment she gets to the bazaar, she knows what she wants to do despite her heart hammering in her chest. zita grabs the nearest bucket of water that isn't being used by others. (meaning, more likely than not, she simply grabbed the bucket of water from someone's hands before they could throw it.) she upturns it on herself and is soon drenched from head to toe, soaking her thin form within seconds.

and, with that, she dashes off into the nearest building that is still full of cries for help and mercy. it's clear she doesn't have a plan but she definitely makes up for it with determination. ]

iii;; burning the midnight oil.

[ at the dining hall of the queen's residence, zita is finally at her (proper) element.

it doesn't take long for zita to figure out who is in charge of the more-or-less field hospital. from the demonstration of her healing powers to the revealing of the jewel she's carrying when she shows it to them, the healer in charge is quick to put zita to work and work zita does.

she's a mostly hands on individual, personally seeing to the wounded and trying to give them comfort by speaking with them and healing them through physical contact of her magic. she also helps do inventory on the supplies of medicine and bandages there, keeping a sharp eye on the dwindling supplies and sending messages to the head healer to give her updates and alerts to anything that may require her call.

eventually, she ends up speaking with someone new. they don't seem to be injured or hurt as the others, but zita wants to be sure of that so she's trying to engage with them, see how they're faring in the light of the events they were all thrown in, more or less. ]

-Are you alright? [ zita is exhausted but she does her best to ignore it, wanting to focus her concern and attention on the individual she's speaking with. ] Do you need any help in anything?

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. and if your character happen to be a magical individual or carries magical items on them, please take a minute to head on over to this permission post on zita's journal on whether or not she can detect them or their items. ]

[playing_hearts]

[Alice knows very little about magic, so she files that bit away for later.]

So it's mostly exhaustion?

[A small sigh of relief. She gets the feeling there's a little more to it, the phrase 'backlash of power' does not sound good. But at least it sounds like she'll recover. She offers a slightly wry smile.]

Well I hope she takes the time to rest properly then. In my experience queens tend to be stubborn.

[Very stubborn. Alice doesn't even know Fayura, but she's already betting this woman is the type to push herself too hard.

It's at this point that she remembers basic manners.]

Um, sorry. I'm Alice Liddell. It's nice to meet you.

Mary Crawley | OTA

[thequitecontrary]

FLAME AND FURY
A lot has happened in a very short amount of time. First, Mary was being called here, then being given a jewel (a red one), that she was told was capable of great magic. Now, she's being called to fight. She may have a lot of power behind this jewel, but she has no idea how to use it. Magic isn't real in Mary's world, so she has no frame of reference to help her. She's also not a fighter, something blatantly obvious to anyone who looks at her.

Mary follows Allairavar to try to help put out the fires, as that seems to be a more able task for her. The blaze is raging through the city, the heat off of it baking Mary's face as she gets closer. As recommended, she puts up a shield to protect herself (she hopes she's doing it right) and stays close to a group of people. Mary doesn't want to split off on her own.

Even with the protective shield, Mary is very hesitant to run into a burning building. She stands back, eyes wide as she stares at the house in front of her. One of the other members of her group is standing too close and not looking up at the burning wood high overhead. Mary can see that it's about to fall and calls out to them.

"Look out!" She gestures and ends up sending some kind of spell that redirects the beam as it's falling to the ground.

TRAINING
Having to train is undoubtedly the worst part of living at the Queen's Residence.
While Mary needs a lot of help with a sword, she also needs help with magic. She has no idea what the red jewel she wears around her neck can really do.

Case in point, while working with someone out at the training grounds, Mary tries to send a spell that will disarm them. Not only does it remove the sword from their hand, it sends the blade flying back about 10 feet, landing point down sticking up from the grass.

Mary gently puts her hand over her mouth. "Oh my," she says. "I didn't realize it was going to do that..."

GOING POSTAL
It's on days like these, when she has somewhat menial chores to do, that Mary has to remind herself that she's here to help. She also has to remind herself that taking post around to people's houses is far preferable to training or fighting any day. With that perspective, she's glad to pick up a bag of letters and deliver them.

It's not as easy as it might seem. Many of the houses were lost in the fire, and the street signs, if they still remain, aren't the most reliable either. That's to say nothing of the handwriting on some of these envelopes. Mary holds one up and squints at it before showing it to her partner.

"Can you make out that address at all?"

WILDCARD
[ Interested in something else? Something different from the above prompts that we talked about on the OOC post or you want to plot something out? Send a PM or find me on Plurk at sparks_fly. ]>/small>

[championbittersweet]

Sweet Dreams
His Jewel is a deep, bloody red and he cannot help but wonder about the significance of that when the scream pierces his dreams, an echo of a sound he still hears in his mind sometimes, and Jonathan's eyes snap open to see a figure looming over him. His eyes can pick out the details easily in the blessed darkness, and he's briefly grateful for the fact that he awoke to night instead of painful daylight.

But there's the glint of a gun and Jonathan reacts, moving in a blur to shove the figure away with a feral snarl. He wants to throw them back and sink fangs into their neck and feed, but he fights the urge, instead grabbing for the gun to try and disarm instead of kill. Despite his rage, the figure fights back and Jonathan yells as a knife instead sinks into his shoulder and he staggers back against the door. The other man is on him again in a moment and the tussle carries them out into the corridor and Jonathan catches sight of someone nearby and a glimpse of an expression looking just as thrown by everything that's happening as he is.

"Don't just stand there!" he shouts, although it's hard to say if he's telling them to flee or help.

Flame and Fury
Hunters. Jonathan has had his fair share of encounters there and while he doubts that Loren means the Guard of Priwen, it's difficult not to imagine them with the word. But he cannot imagine them going to such extremes as to set their own city on fire and endanger the lives of innocents. That doesn't sit well with him and Jonathan of course intends to help, although facing fire is not going to be an easy task. He'll have to trust that this shield they spoke of would protect him as they said.

It looks like it won't take him long to have to find out either; even with the flames he can hear and smell so much more than expected, enough that his head aches and he winces, reaching out blindly to grab whoever is close enough.

"There's someone in that building," he says, pointing with his other hand towards one engulfed in flames. "On the ground floor, unconscious... they may be hurt."

Rest for the Weary
Dawn is close enough that Jonathan is exhausted, his body aching for sleep and vaguely pre-occupied by the thought at the back of his mind that he'd need to be inside soon. But there are people who need help, injuries that need tending, and he's still a doctor. Fortunately it would seem his bag of supplies came with him, and while he hadn't had much while on his way out of London the night he'd been seemingly plucked from, he had bandages and the basic tools of his trade, and more importantly he had training.

Hopefully no one will really notice if at times the doctor has to look away, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut, as he exhales slowly while stitching a wound or binding a particularly nasty cut. It's certainly better than the alternative.

[unwieldy]

I. SWEET DREAMS AREN'T MADE OF THIS

[ The piercing wail cuts clean through his dream to startle Haein awake. He's distantly aware he's had some kind of dream, that there's a reason this room isn't the one he normally wakes up in, but there isn't any time to process or gather his thoughts once he takes notice of the shadowed figure standing over him, and then the Breaker in the Hunter's hand.

He's never had a gun pointed at him and his reaction is made purely out of instinct. There isn't his usual hesitation about using his abilities as he shoves the Hunter back against the wall with a force that he doesn't remember needing so much of to do, knocking the breath out of them as well as sending their pistol clattering to the floor. Haein wastes no time rolling out of the unfamiliar bed, lunging for the door to escape.

But he isn't fast enough and in that time, the Hunter's back on their feet, the Breaker returned to their hand, and a shot is fired. A moving target is a difficult target, and the shot goes wide, only serving to nick Haein in the right arm before he's out the door. Adrenaline keeps him from realizing he's been injured, and as he runs from the room, he barrels straight into another body, sending him crashing to the floor, but not before he grabs hold of the person he'd run into to pull them to the ground with him.

If he's going down, he's at least going to try and take one of these fuckers down with him. ]

II. FLAME AND FURY

[ When Loren calls for the Strangers, Haein reluctantly gathers around with the others. His mind is still reeling from the events from earlier, and he's only half paying attention up until he registers that volunteers are being asked to go into the burning city.

Haein doesn't volunteer.

He doesn't feel an ounce of empathy in this moment, only self-preservation. Those who do willingly step forward for the task, he silently judges with his eyes. And when he feels like enough of the attention has been diverted elsewhere so that he can slip away from the group, he does. In the process, he shoulders someone out of the way as he leaves, no apology following after. ]

III. REST FOR THE WEARY

[ By the time dawn arrives, Haein is exhausted from constantly remaining alert and on guard. But at the same time, he finds it difficult to sit still and do nothing, a nervous energy thrumming from inside of him. With a need to dispel that energy, Haein follows after the other healers into the dining hall. He keeps quiet about the specifics of his usefulness, choosing to do the bare minimum by fetching water, bandages, and whatever else the healers ask for in order to better tend to their patients.

One request for materials puts him not too far from where he recognizes two of the men who had taken charge during the entire ordeal, and he pretends to busy himself with work to be able to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

As for anyone else watching Haein go about his volunteer work, it's clear to see that he's hardly putting in effort, only going through the motions so as not to stand out and draw attention to himself. ]

IV. OTHER

[ i'm happy to work with anything else if you'd rather throw a prompt my way or want to start something else entirely! i can be caught over at yuulshi! ]

[agentlenpc]

[He pauses, as if he's trying to find a different word, but nods regardless.] Exhaustion, yes. [If there was a stronger word for it, he'd have used that.

She gets something akin to a smile at her quip about queens.] You come from a world with queens? [Perhaps this wouldn't be so much of a culture shock, then.]

It's good to meet you, Alice. Loren Sorey. [He recalls introducing himself to as many Strangers as he could, but that was a quick and hurried thing. Now that his blood no longer rings in his ears, he can remember his manners.] I trust you weren't hurt too badly in the fray. I'm sure we can find a Healer if need be.

i

[championbittersweet]

Jonathan might not know exactly where he is or what is happening, but he knows that there's clearly danger and people who need help here and he will do what he can for them. Focus on the rational only, and learn more about the rest later.

He stalks the corridors with a sword in one hand and a gun in the other, the only things to come with him other than his small bag of supplies, and while he holds himself back from killing their attackers he's not above incapacitating them or sending them running. And despite his hunger he feels he's managing rather well until a door is thrown open and a purple figure emerges, along with the heady scent of fresh blood that practically cloaks him and Jonathan groans and leans against the wall to try and recover from the sudden wave of hunger that overtakes him.

The smell seems so much more obvious and easy to pick out than he's used to, and he can even tell that it isn't the other man's blood he's smelling, but it's all so overwhelming he can barely focus on anything beyond it and the thump of two hearts so close--

Two hearts. Too late, Jonathan turns to see an assassin running for him and the knife in the man's hand bites in deep, deep enough that he'd be done for if he were human, and his attacker clearly believes the same as he turns and draws a sword to attack the purple man next.

sweet dreams

[verstoned]

Being Miqo'te living in a house not his and surrounded by strangers, not his own kind, has made Rhus' sleep lighter-- exactly how he manages to wake up and notice at the foreign presence in his room. And how he's already running about the hallways with his sword strapped to his back, having dealt with the threat to his own life and now scouring the building for others. Nevermind he's only managed to wrestle himself into casual clothing and not his armour, he can fight with just this, all he needs is his greatsword.

Though greatswords wont much help if an assassin has already latched onto a victim-- and Rhus can smell the blood from here already.

"Keep your 'air on!" He just needs the right opportunity...

To leap, greatsword still on his back rather than in his hands, across the several feet between himself and the two people wrestling on the floor. He's closed his arms around the would-be assassin's waist and tumbling along the floor with them.

Maeve Echokenner | Original Character | OTA

[mint_and_bronze]

Sweet Dreams (A Stealth Mission.)
Maeve hasn't lived as long as she has without knowing the value of a strategic retreat. She even has a goal in this maze of a manor: the dining hall and the promise of making sense out of this clusterfuck. The night is rich with shrieks and combat--but that's elsewhere in the building. Here, in a hall with a staircase leading who-knew-where at the end, there's only a pair of figures jogging silently past the partially-open door of the small room (a spare parlor?) she'd taken refuge in. They're carrying guns. Looking for her and who knew who else.
A sound startles her and she shifts, swearing under her breath, hand going to the charms braided into her hair. To make it to the dining hall and regroup, she needed stealth--but that could mean either no one saw her, or no one was left to see her.
Someone in the darkness? Holding her breath, she slinks toward the shadow.

Morning After (an attempted assassination)
OOC: This is a prompt where we handwave our first meeting as saving each other from the Hunter's Guild the night before during the chaos and then running off before introductions.
Waiting her turn for someone with medical knowledge to get to her, Maeve feels the urgency of the night past slough from her shoulders to be replaced by the pain of her smoke-damaged lungs and the striped burns running down her arms. She's tapped out, had had to come back to the Queen's residence and the Healers even if Old Town still needed her. Sitting and breathing was great. Peachy. She could do it all day.
A familiar face catches her eye, however, and she turns a wry smile on them. "Hey," she rasps, throat dry. "Glad to see you survived the night."

Hope's An Ember -- A Rescue (Influence Prompt)
Back out in the ash and rubble, Maeve is hunting heartbeats. She feels about as hazy and red as the sky, her eyes bloodshot and her lungs full of shit. But 'taking it easy' isn't an option, and she has skills she can use to help her find the living trapped under rubble. If there are any. She dangles a bronze charm, her hollyhock kenned from strange echoes to pulse when it found nearby 'life in the wake of flames', out in front of her at arm's length. Her other hand rests on her lower ribs, kenning that pulse with her compass tattoo to help her seek.
Her eyes closed, her heart leaps and her directional sense goes crazy. Someone close--and moving too rapidly to be one of the missing she sought. Damn.
She opens her eyes and lifts her hand from her tattoo--might as well rest for a moment so she can use her too-swiftly draining Tiger Eye again later. The living person she'd sensed is closer than she'd expected despite the tattoo.
"Threw me off," she scolds. "You need something?"

Wildcard~ HMU at OOC event plotter if you want to sort out a wildcard. I have a few other prompts I'm interested in that I didn't included starters for. I will match brackets or prose. :)

Sweet Dreams -- Rescued -- Closed to Rhus

[mint_and_bronze]

[Awake. Not a dream. That's a gun and the echoes in this place are too dark and too strange. Maeve screams, a shrieking battle cry as she flings her arms in front of her and strikes out with a strange power she feels tingling in her chest and her swallow tattoo tingling as she performs a brief kenning for speed. The attackers gun goes flying, but the figure doesn't and she forced into desperate grapple amount her bedsheets. If her scream didn't call allies--for either her or the ruffian upon her--then her loud and snarling curses certainly will.]

[consecrates]

[ She's not a healer, never has been. Her powers were more suited for something else and she's never mastered the art of healing anyway. So the most Davina can offer is her knowledge on spells and potions, poultices and first aid for injuries. It's kind of helpful, other than the fact that the ingredients they need are either (a)non-existent or (b)under a different name and she needs to resort to legwork in the library.

This time around, however, a few of the ingredients she needed put her in the same place as Haein—and obviously, the not-so-discreet conversation that's happening in the area. And well, she's not sanctimonious enough to pretend that she's never done this before.

After all, she's well-versed with projection spells and has used it more than once to spy on others.

Her gaze briefly flickers on the male in front of her (and she's seen him move around the dining hall here and there), hands moving through the bundles of herbs and bottles of liquids on the table with ease, and then it flickers to the two men talking. She says nothing for a while as she listens on in, though she may absently grab a few items from the table that Haein is trying to procure and/or swat his hand away. ]

[kesi]

i. sweet dreams aren't

[It wasn’t the first time Takame had a dream that brought a great change to his life. A dream where he awakened to a power he may not ever fully understand. Last time though, the power he awoke to wasn’t given a tangible form that left him with a feeling that something wicked would soon follow.

And last time this happened he wasn’t awoken by a horrible shriek.

He didn’t need to be a light sleeper to be roused by that. And if the noise didn’t rouse him, the hostility he sensed just outside his door would have. Perhaps he was lucky to not have been attacked yet, but the result would be the same. He pushed the door open, swinging in full force like trap door, disrupting the gunman’s stance, giving Takame a prime opportunity to run his katana through the assassin, a sickening scream being the last noise they would ever make, before kicking their lifeless body off the blade like a ragdoll.

There were more, he could hear them. Takame would seek them out before they make another attempt on his or someone else’s life.]

ii. flame and fury

[“The Hunters”... something Takame will soon forget. Enemy of the Blood, locked into his mind and his heart. Enemy of their own... The biggest shame was that the ones who did this couldn’t be tracked down. Not by Takame at any rate. That wasn’t his order, thus not something to prioritize. Put out fires. Rescue residents. Make short work of Hunters.

He reminds himself to focus, pushing through a building in flames, cutting or kicking down any debris to get to any innocents trapped behind it.

… If only this tall horned person with a spiked tail, a sword and a guarded, grim expression looked as benevolent as his intentions. If not for the Jewel he carried, even Blood families would probably shy away from him. At least he has the courtesy to not force first. That would be... rude? Rude. If a fellow rescuer happens upon him he may be having trouble with one landen family in particular…]

I mean you no harm. I only wish to see you to safety. [But they still aren’t budging and the parents are even throwing what little they have at him. He's about ready to give in to that carrying implication, but maybe it can be avoided with someone else's help.]

iii. rest for the weary

[Or none for this weary Au Ra. Staying occupied was key, learning the lay of the land was important, and helping people rebuild was the right thing to do. Words of his family echoed in his mind, but they struggled to stick more than usual today. Maybe because he was more exhausted than he let on, a result of a sleepless night of concern and a second from assassination attempts. But there was no trace of it in his eyes or his body language save for the occasional tapping of his feet the very few times he stayed idle. Of course that could have meant anything else too.

Takame was not a healer or a medic in any sense, what he could do was some manual labor as he made his way back to the Old Town, walking quickly past the two having a conversation likely not meant for him to hear.

You may find him wading through the devastation, scoping the area to find who needed assistance or occasionally turning his gaze to someone else who was helping as if he’s waiting for something from them.]

iv. wildcard

[[ hit me up with all ideas you have friends and feel free to poke me on plurk @ bonpuns if you wanted to hash something out more!! :> ]]

iii

[verstoned]

[The man she's speaking with holds up a hand to forestall any more concern. He knows he must look a sight, soot on his skin and fur, and bearing all manner of cuts and bruises besides. There's even a scrap of scarf covering his right eye, though it's sooty rather than bloody.

He's lost some blood to the fighting, but he always loses blood when fighting as a dark knight. By now, the lightheadedness is natural.]

This is fine. Better to find someone who truly needs it-- there was this girl I brought in. Mayhap she needs attention.

Unquiet Riot -- Closed to Mollymauk

[mint_and_bronze]

[Even if she hadn't been inside one of the Old Town Blood shops looking for a new pair of goddamned pants, she would have heard the mob that formed and began to riot down the street. She was not surprised. She'd felt the tension in the air. This shop already had a broken window, and she'd heard about the new fires set in Old Town homes. The tension would have had to snap eventually, but it sure could have waited until she was back helping with salvage and cleanup.

She poked her head out of the shop and watched the mob roll down the street like a ravenous beastie, leaving the wreckage of anger in their wake (and the psychic taste of that anger in the air was new and horrifying and fascinating). They were moving faster than she thought, and she spared a thought that she should probably get the hell out of the way.]

Shit.

[She did not notice the Ebon Council-sent guards gearing themselves up for a battle. To the nearest person, she comments:]

Can't fucking blame them, though.

Training;

[dextral]

The daily training expectation suits Steve just fine; he prefers to vary his workouts, and certainly picking up a sword is much more varied than he'd have imagined before coming here. He's not only game for it, but he likes to try to look for those who look uncomfortable. He remembers what it was like to be the outsider at boot camp, and that's the last thing he'd wish on anyone.

He can't even be upset when the sword goes flying out of his hand. Thankfully no one is hurt by the move — they're spaced far enough away from the other people practicing — and he just shakes his head and offers his partner a smile.

"Disarming your opponent is a great strategy, don't you think?" He means it honestly; it might not have been the intent, but it had been effective. And Steve certainly isn't a stranger to unorthodox strategies.

Three;

[dextral]

[The best way to deal with an uncomfortable situation is to keep busy. Steve had believed in all through his youth and it still holds true for him now; he doesn't see much pull in staying around the palace when people in the town need help. Fortunately being out and around in the town does put him in a position to help, and to hear a cry for help.

Well, If hearing is the term to use for a voice suddenly sounding in one's head.]

Here!

[The answering call is vocal, because this whole psychic thing is still so very new and vaguely uncomfortable. Thankfully it doesn't take Steve long to find who's asking for help, and to assess what she needs. Fortunately moving heavy things is something at which Steve excels — and that was before this place and the strange enhancement of the jewel he wears.

He wastes no time taking his place next to her and putting his hands underneath the beam.]

Ready? On Three?

i

[consecrates]

[ Davina has little to no appreciation of the way she was woken up either, the perpetrator currently unconscious in her room after she had thrown him off of her. It's after this that she stumbles out of her room, surrounded by the sounds of screaming and things crashing and falling, pushing her long hair out of her face as she assesses the situation.

The closest scream she hears is only a few doors away and she immediately heads towards it, ripping the doors off of its hinges.

Something that she's noticed upon arriving in this world—her magic is significantly more powerful, almost as if she has the power of another Harvest Girl combined with hers. But she can figure it out later after she's sorted out the scene before her: another man, similar to her assailant, and a girl with a bleeding back.

Without another thought, she holds out her hand and flicks her wrist, throwing the man off of her and against the wall. ]

Are you okay? [ She rushes to her, one hand still holding the man high up on the wall. He can stay there for a bit longer. ] Can you move?

[unwieldy]

[ Just a couple of people listening in on a conversation when they probably shouldn't be, nothing to see here.

The good thing about not knowing exactly what he has to collect from the table is that it buys him time to stand there and look like he's carefully checking for what he needs, when really he's just buying time so he can continue eavesdropping with a growing sense of unease and suspicion.

Mention of being stranded catches Haein off-guard, and he tears his gaze away from the potions and herbs to glance toward the two men. In doing so, he's not watching where his hand goes, and he nearly knocks a bottle over if not for Davina's hand coming in to swat his away.

His attention snaps back to the table, his expression automatically defensive as he scowls at the stranger. ]

What the hell?

[ He hisses out the accusation quietly, eyes quickly flickering over to the men to make sure they haven't taken any notice before settling back on Davina. ]

[arrogator]

[Sweet Dreams – II]

[Mordred can't help it. She woke up in the middle of the night with someone pointing what looks like a gun at her, she's going to yell out of surprise. Still, force of habit gets her moving and after summoning one of her gauntlets, she's able to smack the gun away from her, the sound of a shot being fired adding to the noise. She can probably handle this herself, but if anybody heard the yelling and wants to lend a hand, they can if they get there early enough.]

[Flame and Fury - A]

[Okay, there's assassins, everything's on fire, that's bad. But that's bad that Mordred figures she can deal with. Or at least she can deal with this more than the healing stuff. And even if she did think she were cut out for healing, she wants to chase down every single one of those Hunters for starting trouble and this seems like the best chance for it.

The crash course in shielding makes enough sense to her, and while she's mostly looking for a fight, but she's still helping. She's not going to let everything burn for the sake of kicking a few asses. That would probably be considered unbecoming of a future king.]

I think that's everybody.

[In this case, she's just finished carrying someone out of a burning home, not really interested in hearing their issues with being helped by a Stranger, instead opting to just pick them up and carry them, with the combined efforts of Servant strength and her jewel.]

[Flame and Fury – B]

[Not all rescue attempts go well, as she does eventually stumble across a Hunter ambush trying to access a building from an alleyway]

All right, figured you guys would show up eventually. I owe the rest of you for that wake up call.

[She'd heard about not damaging the city worst, but makes no real promises there, bringing out her sword and looking over at anyone else who's helping with the rescue effort.]

Hey, get in there and help get everybody out, I'll take these guys.

[Either listen to her or don't. She hasn't been here long enough to know if she can actually take them or not, she's just overconfident. Things usually work out though. After all what are a bunch of nobodies going to do to her?]

[Unquiet Riot]

[There's just a long drawn out sigh from Mordred while she watches civil unrest unfold before her eyes. She might be new, but she more or less gets it. Some people's crap burnt down, others' didn't. Some people don't really care that other people lost their stuff, the world sucks, and so on and so forth.]

You guys wanna knock it off?

[That's directed at both parties as she watches the rioters and guards face off. Having put down and caused a rebellion she can see where this is going and it's not going to go anywhere well for either group.]

Seriously, I-

[There was more to that sentence, but no one seems to care what she thinks and in a brief scuffle between the two, Mordred ends up getting hit by someone. One of the guards or one of the rioters it really doesn't matter. All that matters is she looks pretty ticked off about the whole thing and like she's about to make things worse.]

[Wildcard]

[If none of these work, shoot me a message or contact me at opticblast and we'll get something else going!]

HOPE'S AN EMBER - for percy jackson.

[unwieldy]

[ With the city a wreck, it makes sense that people have been going out of their way to assist in any way they can. Haein has been silently observing from a distance and learning for himself what he needs to do in order to survive here. He's found himself in the middle of unfamiliar places before, so that's not new. But being dropped into a city in the midst of an attack? Specifically an attack on him and the other newcomers? New.

It calls for being careful, watchful, and his quick sensibility to adapt to strange environments needs to be even quicker in this foreign land. He's here for a reason after all, and he needs to see this through.

That's why he's in the city now, helping to rebuild not out of the kindness of his heart, but a need to blend in.

He's a good distance away from most of the hustle and bustle of the others, clearing out debris and the burned remnants of a home, when he hears something resembling scratching come from under a pile of rubble before it abruptly stops. He doesn't immediately investigate, just keeps an eye on the pile until the sound starts up again. This time, it's a faint knocking that quietly fades once more, and then he's turning away to find the nearest person. ]

Hey. [ That's not a greeting, just a call for attention. ] I think someone's trapped over there.

[ Motions with his hand where. He probably should have checked and made sure, but it seemed like a better idea to get someone else to do it. Besides, he can't exactly lift all that rubble by himself. ]

[portable]

I; sweet dreams aren't made of this

[ parado doesn't sleep much, and even when he does, dreaming is very rare. he turns the bright jewel over and over in his hand, wondering--

before being yanked from unconsciousness by the first cry that rings through the hall, working its way through his groggy senses. he leaps to his feet, a strange nagging in the back of his head.

(this feels like the first time he woke up alone, in a way, something foreign about it that puts him on edge)

there's no one in his room, yet. a cursory check of his coat reveals the familiar shape of his belt and gashat, tucked away in an inner pocket roomy enough to hold the bulky devices without making them difficult to retrieve when necessary. another scream echoes from outside, and parado doesn't hesitate a second longer, flinging the unfamiliar door open to the corridor beyond... and staring down a hunter right outside.

the man raises his weapon but parado is ready, kicking the hunter hard in the stomach and sending him flying a few feet. he meets the hard floor with a thump, head slamming to the ground and putting him out cold. from his hand drops the breaker and parado scoops it up, nonchalantly giving it a look-over. a scuffle further down the hall catches his attention - another hunter trying to drag a man out by his hair - and parado disappears into pixels, reappearing a split second later in perfect range to drive his elbow into the hunter's temple. ]

Go somewhere safe, yeah? [ he speaks to the guy he'd just defended, who nods and runs off. ] This is some good morning call...

[ you might catch his eye after this. or if you're fighting off attackers you might see a tall, oddly-dressed guy vanish or appear, a growing collection of guns tucked in one arm. or later in the dining hall when things have quieted down a little, him sitting on a table with a frown, tapping his chest lightly as if trying to tune a radio. ]

II; flame and fury

[ the heat of the fires made parado's skin crawl in a way he didn't anticipate, the wind not enough to do away with the ashy feeling in the air. but he didn't fear fire, and he was more than well-equipped with the powers to help, so there was no doubt when he was asked to volunteer.

that said, he barely pays attention to anything loren says, preferring to just head straight into the action. parado already knew how to shield, anyway. he could move quickly, though the thickness of the smoke in the air made even his teleporting feel sluggish. like he was picking up a bit of the smoke each time he tried.

a horrid crack to his left had him whirling just in time to see the top level of a residence give way, rubble scattering over the ground. a cry for help inside had him spark in, his sudden (coughing) appearance from the colourful lights startling the blood couple inside, mercifully on the ground floor. another sickening set of splintering sounds permeated the building and parado threw up his shield just in time for chunks of ceiling to start raining down. ]

Oh. [ he'd only intended to stop the debris from falling further, but with the red jewel bolstering his abilities the shield he'd summoned seemed to hold the roof in place for now. the couple stood stunned until he noticed them again, yelling- ] What the-- get out of here! Go! Hey, can someone help these two leave?!

[he calls out through a new crack in the wall to anyone passing by. his shield, now domed rather than the wall he was used to, had the unfortunate side-effect of trapping some smoke, leaving him trying to not cough and risk breaking concentration. ]

III; rest for the weary

[ after all the action had died down, parado had taken up residence on a table in the corner of the dining hall. he'd discovered a few things over the past ten hours or so, none of which he was happy about:

- he was alone. not alone alone, there were plenty of other people around, but the relative silence of only his own emotions in his chest was uncomfortable, even if it wasn't unfamiliar.
- smoke sucked and was awful, and he hated it.
- his powers were rebalanced (perhaps not a bad thing, actually, but mildly frustrating for now)
- despite having picked up a few basic first aid skills in all his time working with doctors, every healer here did it better than him and he just got in the way when trying to help.
- he was hungry. or, at least he assumed he was hungry. that's what hunger felt like, right? probably.
- even though his genmboy had been found in his room, probably having fallen out of his pocket in the hurried wakeup, the battery wasn't fully charged and the rapidly depleting power ticked down every second.

so you can go bother him, this young man sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, tapping away at a handheld game console that definitely more matches him than any of the surroundings. ]

????; wild card

[ feel free to make up your own prompt, or hit me up over at yagyuu to plan something out! ]