agentlelog | event: a gentle arrival

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event: a gentle arrival

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.

Threaded | Flat

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. ]

Edited 2019-01-25 01:03 (UTC)

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!]

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.]

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. ]

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>

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.

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! ]

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. :)

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!! :> ]]

[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!]

Edited (let's try closing that tag again) 2019-01-25 06:20 (UTC)

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! ]

SWEET DREAMS AREN'T MADE OF THIS

i. who am I to disagree? | Velvet

[Waking up to his spider sense going off is like waking up to ice water dumped directly onto his brain. Peter yells a growling yell, like a bear stirred early from hibernation. It sounds a little like:]

BwaRAAGargh!

[He flips up to the wall almost immediately after he sees the attacker, avoiding one shot, then flips again to a corner of the room to avoid another. Feather down fills the air from the unfairly punished mattress. The way he clings to the corner makes him look like a scared spider about to spring.]

I don't know if it's a mix up with the concierge, but I didn't ask for a wake up call!

[This is the scene that Velvet walks into, a man clinging to the wall and ceiling, ready to spring again, wearing a strange red and blue costume with a mask, covered in spider web designs.]

ii. everybody's looking for something | Rocket

[Unlike most people, when Peter hears gunfire, he runs towards it. Or swings towards it. But the halls here don't really have great space for swinging in some places, so he's on foot when he turns a corner and nearly trips over a...]

[Uh. A mammal?]

Whoa!

[He jumps instinctually to avoid slamming into the little...guy. And lands on a wall and sticks.]

This again. [He's not quite as cartoonish as Spider-Ham, but it's still close.] If that gun fits in your pocket, Warner Brothers is going to sue you to death just for existing, I'm calling it now.

[Footsteps are approaching from both directions down the hall. More Hunters are chasing both of them.]

[The man sticking to the wall has a uniform that might be at least a little familiar to Rocket, thanks to the webbing and spider design. Except it's less shiny. And he sounds older than the other guy. And is bigger - both in height and a little bit sideways.]

FLAME AND FURY

iii. we didn't start the fire | Takame

[The problem with all this flagrant flammability is that saving people sure leaves you vulnerable to attack. After hearing some screams in a building, Peter swings right up through the upstairs window, crashing through the glass. The people cowering there shrink away from him; his costume and mask make him look slightly intimidating.]

[He holds up both hands and speaks to them in a gentle tone he's spent 22 years perfecting.]

It's okay. It's okay. I'm here to help you. My job back home is rescuing people from fires. [It's not actually a lie. It's at least one of the things he does. A lot. New York's Bravest usually don't seem to mind the backup.] Don't mind the strange clothes, they're a special firefighting suit.

["Why do they have a spider on them?" asks a tearful child.]

It was either this or get it monogrammed and that seemed pretentious.

[Wood creaks ominously. The flames downstairs are creeping upstairs and the smoke is going to make things awfully difficult soon.]

[He smashes the rest of the glass out of the window with a fist. (He learned a very long time ago how to do that cutting himself.) Then he taps his web shooters exactly the right way and a wide web stretches between different structures outside - a side of a house that's not burning yet, some streetlamps, etc...

I just made you a net outside. I promise it's safe to jump.

[The family really has no other choice and after another soft nod of encouragement from Peter they usher their children to safety first. Peter helps the children out, one at a time. Then the mother. Then the father. Each one lands in the net and bounces safely out. He made it just the right stickiness so they can roll out of it without getting stuck.]

[After the last of them is out, Peter moves to jump out of the window himself - and then his spider sense flares up, screaming in the back of his head. It's so strong that he doesn't have control over his body. He flips up to the ceiling just as a breaker shot zips through where his head just was. The Hunter fires again towards the ceiling and he moves again, reflexively, further into the room. Unfortunately, it takes him right within range of another Hunter, who slashes a dagger. He twists enough that it only grazes his bicep.]

[They have him pinned in a way that is...not good. With his spider sense that much more potent, it's not easy to make moves based on well reasoned tactics and decisions. He keeps reacting based on pure instinct - and his instincts don't always move him in the right direction. Every time he thinks about punching, webbing one of them, or trying to use the magic, his brain nopes out and makes him react instead of act. Stupid new power levels. Stupid gem.]

Would you - [slice - flip] - please - [bang - flip] knock that off?! Before I start [bang - flip] clipping through the floor [stabby stab - backflip] and T-posing into the stratosphere?

[This is almost as bad as how he and the other spiders were occasionally "glitching" and losing control of their bodies during the fight near the supercollider. It feels like his own brain is betraying him.]

iv. we didn't light it | Aithne

[Aithne joins the rescue at the best/worst time. The scene before her as she reaches the upper floor of the building is...complicated. Most of the floor is either burning or has already collapsed into the furniture(?) store below. Five Hunters are balancing on what's left of the floor, trying to keep their clothes from setting on fire as they try to kill Peter. Peter is up in the corner of the room, sticking to the wall near the ceiling, a crying baby in his arms.]

[He looks at her.]

How good are you at playing "the floor is lava"? And/or babysitting?

[The floor's going to collapse soon, the ceiling not long after, and the smoke is getting pretty bad - not good for a baby. If they all fall through to the first floor without dying, that will be an improvement, at least, since the roof and second floor caught fire first, but they still need to get out of here and the situation is devolving fast.]

v. but we tried to fight it | Steve Rogers

[The problem with these old-timey cities is how they're set up.]

[Peter grimaces under his mask as he swings in, squinting his eyes.]

This world definitely hasn't invented urban planning yet.

[It's the perfect recipe for disaster - an extremely narrow street, not much wider than an alley, filled with homes and shops. The fire on one side has leaped right over and set fire to buildings on the other side, causing the entire street to try to evacuate at once. But people evacuating from other areas in a panic are blocking the exits at the end of the streets. There are people still trapped in some of the buildings trying to get out, fire brigades of some kind trying to rush in, and confused people standing in the middle of the street, frozen because they don't know what to do, blocking it up even more.]

[Truth be told, Peter doesn't know exactly what to do, either. In situations like these, he usually just zips around, follows his instincts, triages, and thwips everyone out in the nick of time. He knows there's probably a better way than flying by the seat of his pants, but he's not exactly good at getting people to do things.]

It's like the bigger code infractions fell passionately in love, got married, and had a bunch of bouncing baby safety violations.

[He gets ready to jump in, but if someone else that's competent takes charge, he'll certainly follow their lead. (Hint hint, Cap.)]

[ooc note: I'm going to leave my plot post locked to the people I made plans with, but I'll do a set up for influence missions later when plot's over that'll be OTA.]

Edited 2019-01-25 17:44 (UTC)

a: sweet dreams aren't made of these (ii)

[Miqo'te were never made to be fully comfortable around people from other races, living with them in houses that are not their own. Despite everything he's been through, Rhus still will be no exception to this rule of nature. It's why he sleeps so lightly, with his greatsword in hand, and jolts awake the moment he senses something amiss.

Though he doesn't need his greatsword to defend himself. Rhus gives himself over to instinct so easily, roaring almost loud enough to be a lion, leaping at his would-be assassin and raking his short claws against the man's face, causing hot blood to splash across his own and debilitating the assassin-- for it is indeed a man aiming a gun at him. Not that Rhus gives a flying, buggering godsdamn about it, nor the red on his face as he runs through the hallways of the Queen's residence, because if there's one assassin, there's likely more to make sure the job gets done properly. He knows this so well, when he's encountered so many in the past... though those weren't aiming for him.

And he's not wrong, in any case. There are so many of these people, and Rhus grabs someone harrassing one of the Queen's guard (whatever they're called, he's forgotten in the moment) by the shoulders, and tosses the person bodily into a wall. It's a nasty sound the body makes, though the rise and fall of the person's chest shows he didn't quite kill them.

If someone approaches him or tries to speak to him, he'll whirl about with his tail fluffed up like a bottle brush, quicker than you'd expect from such a short cat-like man with a gigantic greatsword on his back, and bare his fangs in a growl.]

b: flame and fury

Hells, but this is a mess. [The scent of smoke everywhere, it's not pleasant at all, and Rhus wishes for his pipe to have something fragrant to smell, rather than... this. He only just resists dragging a hand through his mane and ears because he's in public, where anyone can see his scar.

Which... he has to deal with, really. He procures a scarf from his pocket, and ties it around his head, lopsided like a blindfold that covers only the right half of his face, or some strange cloth eyepatch. It's strange, but then again, he's strange himself with his ears and tail, just go with it.]

You escort the people out and I watch for assassins? [His tone is light and his eyebrow is raised, but he wont argue if someone wants to switch roles.]

(no) rest for the weary

[Healers are going to heal, no matter what one tries to tell them-- Rhus knows this intimately, having been a healer before he arrived here and was forced to part with his cane. And he's full of scratches and bruises. Some dried blood dots his clothing as well, though the Miqo'te is completely unbothered about that, and doesn't demand healing. He simply sits backward on one of the chairs, resting his arms and chin on the backrest.

There's a scrap of sooty cloth tied over his face, lopsided enough to cover his right eye. One would think he were injured, but there's no blood to be seen nor scented, and anyone who tries to have a look will be soundly rebuffed.]

'S been on my face since 'round the start of this-- definitely no injuries there.

wildcard
[ if you have something else in mind, let me know! feel free to poke at his plotting post! ]

A. Sweet Dreams II

The poor fellow with the Breaker will be surprised to find that the little lump of fur curled up on the pillow wakes quickly, and immediately launches himself at his attacker's face, all claws, teeth, and tiny little punches right in the eyes and the temples. Tiny paws make tiny punches, but he packs a lot of power behind them for his small size.

Once he's left his first attacker comatose and bleeding, Rocket retrieves his rifle, expanding it out to a mid-range length, and starts going hunting. He's tired, he's cranky, and he's going to kill some guys. Anybody who needs rescuing or wants somebody to yell with you, have a furball with a gun much fancier than the landen guns.

B. Flame

"Rocket, do this, Rocket, do that, Rocket, save some people. I'd rather keep shooting assassins or whatever." Rocket sits on the ground in front of one of the smoking buildings, on the rim of one of the city fountains, complaining to himself. While he mutters, though, he's working with some tubes and a tiny pump and his rifle, doing some kind of combination with the three.

"Stupid people needing saving," he grumps, once he's finally finished, and turns his rifle on the building. He hardly needs to aim, but he does anyway, and pulls the trigger-- turning his big gun into a big fire hose. The fountain will run out of water before too long, but it still probably at least helps.

C. Rest

Rocket isn't here for healing. He's fine. He does keep an eye on everyone, though-- or rather an ear, as he's busy sitting on a side table fiddling with a far-caster-- and he's definitely close enough to overhear the conversation between the two high-ranking court members. He doesn't look up, but he is pretty obviously listening. He even stops humming, one pointed ear cocked in their direction.

Any of the others nearby get a sidelong look to see if they heard, too.

i. sweet dreams.

( a. ) [ for a demigod, a somewhat prophetic dream is nothing new, nor is the looming sense of impending doom — and so when leo wakes, it is with the singular, clear thought of, well, this is not ideal.

as soon as his eyes adjust to being open, and as soon as he registers the presence of another person, and the weapon he is holding, the thought changes from not ideal to almost definitely screwed. ]

Have you never heard of an alarm clock? [ his mind flits through his options: running, not good. fighting, plausible. he's pretty sure his hammer is deadly enough, and assuming this assassin dude isn't immune to fire, some nice balls of fire could be made too, if it wasn't for the flammability of everything nearby. which leaves — ]

That's a pretty cool gun, what kind of ammo does it use? You don't see a gun like that every day, trust me, I've gotta see — [ he moves closer, puts his hand over the barrel. mutters, just gonna fix you a bit, buddy.

twists his fingers.

the Hunter presses the trigger; the gun fires. backwards. ] Right, that's my cue, nice to meet you! [ excuse him as he hightails it the hell out of that room. maybe you stand outside and hear him, or maybe he just barrels right into you instead. sorry about that. ]

( b. ) [ eventually, leo makes it into the dining hall, stepping through the green shield with some awe. it's like camp half-blood, sort of, isn't it? the shield that only lets certain people through.

instead of talking to people, leo wanders between them, listening to the chatter, and upon overhearing some of the conversations, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs. ] Assassins and a fire in town? Sounds fantastic. Totally up for some more fighting and saving people and stuff. [ #sarcasm, but then, what is a demigod's life if not fighting and saving people and stuff? ]

ii. flame and fury.

[ it's a fire — of course he's going. it sort of feels like cheating, even thinking of staying away when he's guaranteed to be unharmed by the flames. when just his presence can lessen the flames and give people a chance to get out. ]

( a. ) Whoa, hey, I'm here to help! [ he yells in one of the houses, to a family that's trapped in one of the back rooms. leo steps forward, and the flames are drawn to him, dying out around him. he spreads his arms like, see, it's fine, it's safe.

and yet, the family — an older man and his daughter — don't move. leo groans. ] Seriously? Am I gonna have to carry you guys out of here? [ the man looks at him, in all his scrawny, short glory, and lifts an eyebrow. you and what muscles, he seems to ask. and okay, yeah, so he has a point. some assistance, maybe? ]

( b. ) [ and just as monsters are drawn to half-bloods, so do the hunters seem to be drawn to the strangers. it's outside a recently collapsed building that one of the assassins comes face to face with leo, whose arms and head are still smoking from all the heat, and it's rather obvious he's not there as one who is escaping the houses.

what I wouldn't give for my hammer right now, he thinks, before grinning brightly at the assassin. ] Sup, dude! You ever heard of negotiations? You know, the type where people talk before burning houses and murdering others? I think you could really use some of th —

[ whoa, okay, so that was definitely the dude going for some rather aggressive negotiations right there, and it's only leo's reflexes that get him to dodge in time. this is going just great. ]

iii. rest for the weary.

[ it is a very exhausted leo valdez that comes back to the queen's residence in the wee hours of the morning... also a leo valdez whose shirt and pant legs have totally burned off. unfortunately, when the fireproof-level of your clothes depends on your concentration, accidents are bound to happen.

he stumbles to the nearest unoccupied place, whether it's a chair, a table, or just the corner of a hall, and promptly falls asleep. sorry, was it on top of your things? was it where you'd been sitting? oops. wake him up if you feel like it.

and later, when he's woken up from his nap and found some new clothes, he decided that some food might be a good idea — only, heading to the dining hall means also heading to where loren and allairavar are having their conversation, and it's one that kind of leaves him without much of an appetite. ]

Well, that's not ominous at all, [ he mutters, and maybe, if you too heard it all, you agree. ]

iv. wildcard.

[ if we talked about teaming up for a job thing, feel free to wildcard that, or poke me for a starter either by PM or on plurk @ celen! or feel free to hit up leo for any other things in-between any of the prompts above! will match format. ]

SWEET DREAMS

[ percy wakes with his heart thudding hard against his ribs.

which is, actually, pretty normal as far as demigod dreams go. protip: they suck. they're almost invariably nightmares, visions of their enemies, or dreadful portents. you know, normal fun stuff. which also means he isn't too disoriented to notice the dark shadow looming over him, as soon as his eyes adjust to the darkness. the weapon, the palpable malice, and the clear intent don't bode well, and while percy hasn't been on a quest in half a year he hasn't been idle.

reflexes kick in, and he rolls to the side as the breaker fires for the first time. the second catches his sleeve, grazing his arm; and before there can be a third, he slashes the weapon in half with his sword. when his blade passes cleanly through the hunter like an illusion, he realizes he's dealing with a mortal here. but he doesn't need a sword to fight, and while he doesn't usually fight mortals, self-defense to keep from being murdered is a pretty compelling reason. percy manages to knock him to the ground hard enough to make the guy black out, then leaves the room.

he runs down the hallways, sword in hand, but he'll stop if he sees another stranger -- or, in his mind, someone not about to attack him. riptide's blade glows softly in the darkness, and there's blood on his shirtsleeve, but he spares a grim smile. ]

Warm welcome, huh?

FLAME AND FURY

[ turns out warm was an understatement.

percy goes to help with the fires, of course. how couldn't he, knowing there are people in danger out there? he hadn't hesitated before volunteering; and while fire isn't his thing like, say, a certain leo valdez (love you, bro), he has some natural protection against it. the sea pulses through his blood, keeps him from burning as easy as your average mortal. ]

(i)

[ amidst the utter chaos, there's the sound of stone shattering.

allairavar had talked about using their jewels, and something about craft (which just made him hungry for mac 'n cheese, if he's being honest), but it's percy's inborn powers that he reaches for instinctively. he can't see the river, or the piping hidden underground and in the walls of buildings, but he's as aware of them as he is of the smoke scalding his lungs, of the screams filing the air.

the burning building in front of him backs to an open square, and in that square is an old fountain. it's probably, like, a monument or something important, but more importantly cold water streams out of its jets in a continuous stream. percy only has to hold his hand out and concentrate, and one of those jets breaks. water twists through the air, controlled entirely by his willpower, towards the flames.

to anyone nearby, he'll shout, ]

Get in there! I'll cover you!

[ with the water, he means, dowsing the flames -- though he's all too happy to shoot jets of it at attackers too. ]

(ii)

[ when not destroying public property (sorry, old town), he bolts into buildings, pulling people out as many at a time as he can manage. maybe two of you team up with a particular home, or maybe he just runs into yours inside. (possibly literally? sorry x2) ]

This place isn't gonna hold up much longer.

[ which is stating the obvious, maybe, but it's a warning as much as it is a reminder. ]

(iii)

[ - or maybe, while he's doing some fancy water-controlling or just occupied with some of these local victims, there's a hunter sneaking up on him. warn him or help him out?

- or maybe he's approaching you, expression serious. there's a little girl in his arms, her face buried in his shirt, and when he speaks, his voice is low but urgent. ]

She's been separated from her family. Have you heard anything that could help? [ quickly, ] I know.

[ the last part added preemptively, because asking if they've heard of any family members trying to find each other is a stupid question. but in case anyone's mentioned a daughter, or a little sister, or a niece... ]

REST FOR THE WEARY

[ by the time percy makes it back to the queen's residence to check in, he looks about as good as you'd expect after a night like this -- exhausted, sooty, and sporting a fun assortment of minor injuries. after loren's introduction, though, he moves away from the healers, headed back outside. maybe you try to stop him, or maybe you're curious what he's up to. or maybe you're out in the city proper when he makes it to the edge of the heartsblood river and jumps in.

like a normal person.

he doesn't surface for a while, so it's also possible you're around when he finally does, climbing out of the river totally dry. and, incidentally, looking both less tired and uninjured. ]

WILDCARD

[ lmk if you want to discuss doing anything else with the prompts or the influence quests! feel free to reply with prose or brackets format; i'm equally comfortable with either. ]

Sweat Dreams ~~are a Lie~~

The Dream of the Question Was still in her head though something was not right. She struggled with an unfamiliar drag to waking. An urgency more associated with a nightmare and once she opened her eyes she snapped to consciousness. A shadow, likely a man over her while on the bed and something that resembled a gun.

And this assassin was leveling it towards her head. A kick to his wrist as she spun out of bed and grabbed him by the throat and the offending wrist. Maybe a second she was awake and she spotted a window. Spinning her attacker and crossing that short distance, Aithne braced and threw the man through it with a satisfying crash, and a more satisfying fading scream. She looked to confirm that it was likely high enough to at least maim the attacker, Aithne moved to the bed and pulled her sword belt from one bed post and buckled it quickly as well as the more specialized thigh belt for her daggers.

In the distance she could hear screams of help and of surprise. Drawing her sword and opening the door into the hallway, she moved to the closest at a jog, that would turn into a sprint at the sound of the nearest scream. Kicking in the door tearing into the would be attacker with her sword, turning. “Are you harmed?"

2. Flame and Fury

On the way, she had hung back slightly. Close enough to hear this man’s words but not within the crush of the group that went out to combat the fires. When they were set loose, she called her wings and sprang into the air, glancing down to see which area was likely to be left out of the assault as well as to survey the disaster and see which ones she could control the quickest while heading to the worse.

Some would see her fly through a window and the flames start to recede and then she was off to the next fire. Other times she delivered those that had been trapped onto the streets. Always listening for a call for assistance or cries of help, both of which she would be more than willing to give.

3. Rest for the Weary

It was true the night was long and she was tired. And there was a sense that something was not quiet right with her magic. Something for her to contemplate later though because there was a call for healers for those wounded in the previous events.

Her wings hidden, though smelling of smoke and soot streaked her face and arms, she sought out one of the Healers and offered her assistance. She told them she knew of the various herbs and roots on her world, but obviously knew nothing of theirs. However she had other methods that may help some of the more serious cases.

She could be easily found moving through the healing area, tending those that needed it and giving a word of encouragement where she could. Moving from to the next, there were many, she squats down and asks. “My name is AIthne, have you been tended yet?”

Edited 2019-01-28 01:10 (UTC)

I. DREAMS
[ Venom’s response is immediate. An arm snaps out to grab the hunter, and black slime surges up from that point of contact to engulf his head. He fires wildly, missing, letting out a muffled scream as Venom bears down on his throat while fluid pressure drives into every soft point on the human skull. The hunter falls, jerking, to the floor. ]

[ It’s a pretty grisly way for Eddie Brock to wake up, but he does. He swears and scrambles backward as Venom withdraws back up his arm. Shit. Shit. He's barely awake and that sure is a dead dude with a gun, what the fuck. ]

[ We need to get moving. Venom’s settled himself mostly onto Eddie’s forearms, he looks like a pair of long, black, uncomfortably large gloves with suspiciously sharp fingertips. Eddie’s not awake enough to reply, just to figure out where his legs are supposed to be and start walking as Venom’s sense of urgency goads him on. Venom just killed a man, a man who was going to kill them- ]

Why aren’t we suiting up?

[ Venom hesitates. Can’t. ]

What do you mean we can’t?!

[ Something's wrong. ]

[ They woke up in a strange place with a gun in their face, Venom can’t cover him, and now they’re blundering around a strange building with armed men in it while arguing. Great. This is the best. ]

II. FLAMES
[ Eddie can feel Venom shifting around. It’s like his guts are pacing anxiously, and it’s making him nauseous. Venom hates fire, hates it and fears it and hates it even more because he fears it. The Craft shielding has done very little to reassure him about the burning Old Town. ]

[ But that’s why they’re not going into any burning buildings. They’ve thought of a different job to do down here. ]

Hey. I need you to focus.

[ It’s harder than you think, Venom protests, but he stills, trying to keep his attention on the world around them that isn’t on fire. Eddie’s hands are closed into fists, like that will somehow brace his partner. There. ]

[ Venom tugs Eddie’s head to look. One of the other Strangers is helping someone out of a building, and hasn’t noticed a man striding toward them from behind. A long knife is in his hand. ]

[ Oh, Venom intones, distracted. ]

Oh what? [ Eddie’s already running. ]

[ I figured it out! ]

[ Venom suddenly surges up to cover him completely. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just harder here for some reason. There’s no more talking. They clear the distance to the hunter in a single leap, before he can attack his target. They slam him to the ground under them, one hand around his throat. Their broad, many-toothed grin bows to hover inches from his face. ]

What were you planning to do with that, hmm? We can’t say we’re a fan.

[ It looks, uh. It looks pretty bad. ]

III. REST
[ They look like hell. Well, Eddie looks like hell. Soot, sweat, and an air of all-purpose weariness shows what he's been up to. Venom's settled like a stone in the pit of his belly, or at least that's where Eddie's imagining him based on how he feels. ]

You alright?

[ He has to ask. He's starting to worry.]

[ I feel slower, the symbiote answers. I have since we woke up. And hungrier. ]

[ Eddie winces a little. A hungry alien is exactly what he doesn't need to deal with right now. Venom's not making any demands, but he can also just feel that shared gnawing sensation coming in now that things have slowed down. ]

[ It's only then that he realizes, quiet though he's being, someone else was sitting close enough to hear him and assume he's talking to them. Awkward eye contact is made. ]

IV. WILDCARD
[ Bring your own shenanigan. I'm at

zitasaurusrex if you want to talk something out, my discord's also listed on there! ]

Edited 2019-01-28 06:31 (UTC)

i. SWEET DREAMS AREN'T MADE OF THIS.

a ) [the dream itself was definitely strange and she isn't entirely too sure what to make of it but it's the scream that makes her wake up rather abruptly. it hasn't quite registered with her that she isn't in arkadia anymore or anything else regarding the strange circumstances she finds herself. instead her immediate thought is that something is wrong and that one of her people is in danger but the moment she even attempts to move, she notices that she isn't alone.

clarke isn't a stranger to having her life threatened but catching a glipse of the figure looming above her in the dark who is pointing a gun at her, her breath catches in her throat for a moment because she knows she has to think fast to try and make it out of here. she moves and just barely dodging the bullet that was meant for her and in that instance, she takes her chance to fight back with everything she has] Get the hell away from me— [she starts shoving the person away from her and with a swift kick to knock them to the ground as she makes her escape through the door trying to move through the hallways to get as much distance between herself and the person targeting her as she could but in her rush she might end up bumping right into someone]

b ) That really was some wake up call— [her words are mostly muttered to herself for the most part though if you happen to pass by, her words are audible enough. it's a bit later once she has gotten enough distance, clarke pauses for a moment to take a breather while still trying to remain cautious. she takes in her new surrounding a bit and the more she looks around, the more it seems like what she thought was a dream was more real than she anticipated] Definitely not what I was expecting either, including being wherever this place is supposed to be.

ii. REST FOR THE WEARY.

a ) [it has been a long exhausting morning between the rather unpleasant wake up call to going into town to help save people from the fire. she stayed back at the queen's residence while people had been going to help with the latter because she knew that her help would be most needed after it was all said and done especially in terms of offering medical aid to those who came back injured or worse.

she joins the other healers in the dining hall waiting for people to come back and in between that time, there is a certain conversation between loren and allairavar she manages to overhear that further adds to how wary she is about all this along with her other suspicions about being here too]

As if this place wasn't suspicious enough already. [there is definite sarcasm in her tone but she does mentally make note of the conversation she heard for later]

b ) [eventually people do start to come back and she approaches them with genuine concern in her expression. it's clear to her at this point that none of her people are here but in the meantime, she is going to do what she does best and that is to help people who are injured and put her medical skills to use at least] Hey. Are you okay? If you have any injuries, I can patch you up, if you let me take a look?

iii. WILDCARD

[ choose your own adventure! my plotting comment is here if you want to discuss doing something else like teaming up for an influence job or training at the queen's residence or anything else really. i am open to anything! or you can just hit me up on plurk @

throned ]

Edited 2019-01-28 09:31 (UTC)

↬ feel free to pm this journal or contact via

resurrectionist /resurrectionist#2222 (discord) if you want to plot or ask a question!
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