faileas: (Default)
aefenglom log posting account ([personal profile] faileas) wrote in [community profile] dagung2021-03-06 12:25 pm
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☆ TDM: MARCH

Test Drive: March 2021

    Welcome to [community profile] aefenglom's test drive! All threads can be considered game canon, should you choose to do so; regardless of if you pick specific threads to remain canon to the game, the prompts and test drive itself will be. Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:

    The Application Queue is open. Applications run on a rolling queue system. The application page is always open to submissions, and applications will be processed in order of submission. Verdicts will always go out by the final week of a month, though we can't promise an exact date -- we'll get to them as quickly as we can throughout the month! If your application is submitted during the last week of a month, it may be rolled into next month's batch of applications. The application page can be found here.
    • We have a brand new Game World Wiki created with the immense help of our Wiki Bards: Noa, Prince, Maruah and Ran. Thank you so much! It's still being updated, but most of the main game info is there for you in an easily searchable manner. All other info can still also be found through our Navigation page!
    • If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
    • For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
    • Test drive threads can be used as samples for your applications!
    • For current characters, TDM threads can be used for AC.
    • And finally, since this is part of our event, characters already in-game ARE allowed to top-level on this post.

    With that taken care of...


You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever-shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the wind brushes playfully against your face - and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that.


The Calamity


The taste of magic in the air is electric on your tongue, supercharged, bright, a little tart and fizzy like popping candy. The settlement you find yourself in is unfamiliar to you, but you can tell it is bustling, beautiful, a center of culture and activity for its bygone era. The architecture blooms with elaborately carved flourishes, but you cannot shake the feeling of... otherworldliness that it brings to mind. (Perhaps you are a veteran of these dreams and remember a ship with similar embellishments from far away, that came bearing invaders, in a time long ago.) It is nearly impossible to tell what season you find yourself in - pockets of spring bloom with new life, right next to pockets of winter snowstorms; playful fall winds laden with leaves tug at your hair, and in some spots, it feels hot and muggy like the middle of summer. None of these patches of seasonal mayhem are very large, a few city blocks’ worth at most, and they all butt up against each other, tumultuous, fighting for real estate in a place where the magic bubbles freely up through the ground like a wellspring, uncontrolled. In a way, it seems like a wilder version of Aefenglom’s seasons always being opposite the season in the Wilde, similar but more widespread, more disharmonic.



Fit to Burst
The settlement is bustling and full of that otherworldly architecture, spirals and tendrils and vaguely floral embellishments, except... If you look closer, you can see that only a few of the buildings are really made that way. An illusion covers the rest, purely cosmetic, a glamour; it's a shimmering image laid over reality until you look beneath it at the squat, simple houses made by mortal hands out of rough hewn wood or bricks of packed mud. The people are just as disparate as the buildings beneath it all - glittering-eyed Fae, taller, more elongated and insectoid than those seen around Aefenglom, though many of them use glamours to appear more fantastical and beautiful; humans teeming with magic, who use it freely for anything and everything; other bipedal Monsters with rougher, more bestial features than longtime residents might be used to, more in tune with their natural abilities.

It wouldn't be a bad idea to explore your new surroundings, though you're likely to garner attention. Unless the world you come from is a more medieval time period, your clothing, perhaps even your hair or other aspects of your appearance are likely to stand out. What will make you stand out even more, though, is not drawing on your abundant new magical powers, or strong new Monster abilities. That shop there requires flight to get up to the second story front door. That home down the street can only be unlocked with a burst of flame. Torches when it grows dark? No, don’t be ridiculous, you can't light your own way? Your hair looks hideous, darling, why haven’t you put on a glamour?

Reluctance to use these abilities abundantly and freely garners frowns of scrutiny and disapproval from those natives around you. "We're free here under the Fae folk. They've taught us so much, we never go hungry, we’re never beaten down by the weather." Their words hold truth - their twisted-trunk trees are bursting with fruit, their haphazardly laid out crops flourish in a matter of days rather than a season, rain and snow can be directed at will with just an application of the wild, free magic bubbling up from the ground in rivers.

There is a hierarchy in this settlement. The Fae are above all, and can often be found partying into the night with sweet wine and hallucinogenic mushrooms, teaching humans and Monsters to harness their natural talents and the magic of the land by day. Their attitudes are condescending toward these lesser beings they’ve granted their favor to (including you, now, and aren’t you just the most interesting, darling little things?), delighting in spreading their knowledge. The humans and Monsters still seem awestruck by their benevolent masters - a word they mean in the sense of 'teachers' - accepting their gifts, using their magic, and none of them will so much as whisper a complaint. Not when it’s safe here. Not when all is well.

It's more than they can say for the lands outside of their paradise, even if things do happen here that the Fae do not like to hear them speak of.

Gain the trust of the natives, and you might hear rumors, whispers of a rotting pox hitting other communities far from here, or first hand accounts of how so-and-so witnessed another death just last week, a human woman blew up in town, and some of the Monsters, they been goin’ right bestial. Shh, shh, you didn’t hear it from them! (Don’t let the Fae catch you gossiping. They might just take you and the native both aside, whisper in your ears, let the magic wind its way around your brain until you don't remember any longer what you were talking about or even who you are, where you come from. You were having a good time though, right?)

You can try to leave the settlement, to explore the woods that surround it, but you’re likely to be noticed and warned: "You should stay here, make sure you don’t run into any of the unfriendly locals - they don't care for our masters."


The Emergence
Time passes strangely in a dream. It might feel like a handful of hours, or even a few days, before a change can be felt all throughout the strange, unsettling paradise. If you’ve had a recent brush with it in the waking world, you might recognize the signature of it - the Cwyld. Something in the air feels very wrong, like a chill in the middle of summer, a sudden warm wind in winter; the plant life beneath your very feet begins to blacken in color, with near-indiscernible white lines marring their surfaces, and no matter who you are, no matter the pride you may take in your courage, a shiver raises every hair on your body without fail: Something wicked this way comes.

The wellspring of magical energy flowing like a river beneath your feet takes on a new feeling when you try to draw from it, a dark and heavy sensation, oily and creeping. Reaching for the magic, it feels as though you're reaching into hollow darkness, dried up and consumed, and the disparate plants of different seasons, growing alongside each other, begin to bulge grotesquely and burst, splattering an unknown black substance over anything unfortunate enough to be in the splash zone. Possibly even you. Don't pass under the fruit trees. The infection has seeped into the overtapped leyline, and it bleeds through the settlement quickly, much quicker than it seems to move in the current-day waking world. The plant life, with their roots dug deep into the earth, are only the first casualty, as it spreads rapidly to the animals, and then the natives, blackening and tainting everything it touches.

The village is thrown into chaos. Fae and any who seem to have Dragon in them are the first to show signs of infection, blackened veins visible under paling skin and white film growing over the eyes. Bodies grow brittle and twisted the more it spreads and settles in. Humans with an abundance of magic are the next to lose themselves to it, quickly followed by other Monsters. While in the waking world, infection spreads more slowly, here, it can be almost instantaneous, the process of becoming a Shade, losing all sense of self.

They have no resistance to the Cwyld, and in this dream, neither do you. You're just as susceptible to the infection, and some may find themselves succumbing to the infection spreading to the heart and pumping itself through their veins. Becoming a Shade is a painful experience, a painful existence, as the life is snuffed out of you and your body keeps going. In this dream, you might be lucky (or unlucky) enough to keep your wits about you, to remain sentient and somewhat yourself - or you might become one of the mindless, violent many whose only directive is to spread the Cwyld to everything that lives, including your fellow dreamers. Even if you do stay aware of yourself, it is hard to resist the pull of the Cwyld on your mind, urging you to spread and infect, to leave nothing whole and living.

Before your eyes, the settlement begins to die. You can't help anyone who is already infected, even if you know healing spells that work in the waking world, unless you're willing to put them out of their misery before they become a Shade corrupted beyond all assistance. You might be busier trying to save your fellow Mirrorbound, though, as they try to avoid that fate themselves or fall prey to it in front of you.

And while the earth and plants and people around them turn black and fall to ruin, any of the Fae who managed to remain untainted simply flee, running from the settlement without stopping to help anyone in need, not even the students who so looked up to them.

Note: Becoming a Shade in this prompt is optional, and Mirrorbound Shades may keep their minds or not at player discretion! Infection will not carry over out of the dream. Dying in the dream will put your character back at the edge of the village, uninfected and alive again, to witness the rest of its downfall.


Light It Up
Help comes in an unexpected, unwanted form. Those unfriendly locals the residents of this village spoke of previously appear through the morning mists, shrouded in clumsy protections like masks and gloves, and practical, non-flashy spells. The group is made up of grim-faced humans and Monsters, a surprisingly cohesive unit of people who look out for each other as they make their way through the woods with torches held aloft. They are hardier than those indulged, magic-glutted folks who suffer now. These newcomers are dressed more practically, for working land or fighting battles, but they, too, have humans among them who can harness their magic. Their witches keep their torches lit, and work closely with their Monsters, helping each other in a way that will not feel unfamiliar.

They've come today, they'll say if you get a chance to speak with them, however briefly (they're a little busy to answer too many questions), to try and stop this blight on the land before it can reach their village, some miles to the south. They've seen it before, though never this severe. This Cwyld will spread and spread, until there is nothing left.

Best to burn it all down before its tendrils creep too far, before its roots dig too deep.

They fight and destroy the Shades however they can, showing no mercy, though their spells are crude and simple, and their Monsters use their natural forms without any showy abilities, depending on claws and teeth and strength to do their jobs. Working together, with simple weapons in their hands, they are formidable. Even if you kept your mind, kept your speech, they will not let you live if you were infected - and may not let you live even if you weren’t infected, just to be safe. You may join them, if you wish, help them burn down the blackened trees or even Shades that were once people - or you may fight them, but they won't relent. They burn the whole settlement down, leaving wide patches of scorched earth like blackened scars on the land. It’s the only way, they say, from their limited experience. Everything must return to the earth.

As the settlement goes up in flames fully, they retreat, only remaining long enough to ensure the fire stays where it needs to stay, and will not spread to uninfected forest. For those of you who were completely uninfected and may have thus been spared, they are still unwelcoming and will not allow you to travel back to their own village with them, threatening with swords and flames any who are too insistent. They aren't too keen to talk, but you may get a few answers out of them, the basics - some of their parents originally lived here, learned magic from the Fae, though when they saw the dangers, they left, believing that such power should be used more sparingly, more responsibly. Against the Fae, if at all possible, and against their destructive ways. It was just a matter of time, they thought, until calamity struck, and lo.

You just saw what happens, what that much magic can call down in divine retribution. How magic itself fights back against the excesses of those who would abuse it.

whomthebelltolls: (Is finally clear)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2021-03-29 06:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Good. Stay here, for even a little while. Take respite from... the truth of the world.

[That horrible truth - that the Church had failed her and was going to fail the entire city. But Maria also isn't sure Adeline is going to believe all of that... so she tries to do it nicely. She tries to give Adeline something to focus on that doesn't challenge her assumptions with the nature of the Church.] Alright. Do you feel well enough to rejoin the crowds? I'll guarantee you the changes you've exhibited are not so strange to them.
oftheletter: (thoughts)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-03-29 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Better.

[Using the names they're going by here is good enough. It's highly doubtful anyone is listening in on them with all that's going on, but it's still better to be safe than sorry.]

Repeat that as much as you need to.

[Right. L's fingers. Frowning, Near removes his coat. Undoing the shirt he's just tied around the man's legs, he replaces it with the thicker material. It will still do the job there. Then he takes the long sleeves of his shirt and used them to wrap around both of L's hands, keeping all the digits pinned together.

He's now wearing nothing at all and feeling highly exposed, but it's fine. There's nothing to see. And the moment the corruption starts to show on him they'll both know.]
piromare: (d6)

[personal profile] piromare 2021-03-30 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, I know.

( risky. stupid. could've been bad for both of them, but hey... it worked out. his wings naturally try to cover him even though he's not in danger. )

I'm fine. I'll get better. The witches have been taking care of me, I'm almost done my treatments, and...

( another hack or two, and lio shudders. )

... then maybe after a month, my wings will be in better shape.
hearthebell: not colored by me, will credit if found (Something wrong with me inherently)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-03-30 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
[With his fingers stayed, L's attempt to lash out at Near ultimately fails. He falls back, dark eyes heavy-lidded, panting. The fit's passed, but there will be more like it. They'll grow more intense, breaking bindings or bones, whichever gives first.]

Linden Tailor... Eli Dagwood. Linden...

[Repeating it softly and breathlessly, digging it into his grey matter like a pickaxe. The last thing on his mind is Near's unclothed state, even as he is aware; he knows what's necessary, under these bleak circumstances. He knows that neither of them have the luxury of caring about dignity or decorum.]

I keep almost losing it.

[The names. They're here, then gone; then back again, even more tenuous than before.]

If you want to try to hypnotize me, our time may be more limited than I thought.
cointosser: ([059])

[personal profile] cointosser 2021-03-30 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh. He goes quiet, finding the words beautiful. Certainly she did not inherit Geralt's gruff, overly pointed words. Not in this case.]

Yes. So do I.

[He has a feeling he'll get along with her. As strange as it is to have anyone from a time he has yet to experience know him. Beyond, he imagines, his own reputation. But she is a little bitey, which at least is familiar.

He -- ]
Ow. [He looks back at her in surprise, and then meets her smile. No, far beyond his reputation, he imagines. Or is she simply so casual? That would be awful good luck. Princesses were terribly stuffy.

His smile belies how satisfied he is with the answer.]
Ah, don't be shy. You can agree. [Or maybe that's weird. How would he know?] Hmm, in time, perhaps. When I'm sliding into a more mature image. I'm still galivanting about on my youth.
illumenating: (Prayer)

[personal profile] illumenating 2021-03-30 09:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ Adeline wouldn't believe it, nor does she want to. Distraction is a very good idea for the time being. Even if she is very hesitant to make her way into any sort of crowd right now.

The fae talking to her earlier hadn't been afraid, at least. ]


Yes, I suppose...

[ She lets go of Maria, turning a glance toward the direction they came. It would be easier to give in, when she's inwardly fighting so hard against these changes, but... she isn't quite ready to do that, yet. Baby steps. ]
whomthebelltolls: (Is it painful to learn)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2021-03-30 12:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Come along. We'll find, perhaps, a street performance or play. Something to take the mind off things.

[Considering food is probably off the menu anyway, because it usually is in these dreams. She holds her elbow out, as she turns back toward the main avenue. They'll... find something to do. Even if it's just window shopping. She wants to keep Adeline's mind off of things.

And she wants to keep her own mind off the fact that Adeline is here. Adeline is here, and Adeline is a Monster, and while Maria's come to a tentative sort of peace with the Monsters in this place, she still doesn't always like or trust them, especially new ones who don't understand what they're going through.

Now, though...

Maria sighs. Well, if Adeline does end up waking up on the other side of a mirror, she has a lot of work to do.
]
illumenating: (pic#)

[personal profile] illumenating 2021-03-30 01:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Adeline readjusts her hood and then takes Maria's arm, trying to mind her own pace to keep up with the much taller woman. At least there is plenty to look at even without having to worry too much about finding entertainment. ]

Why does this place feel so... odd?
long_live_the_queen: (are you talking about my hat)

[personal profile] long_live_the_queen 2021-03-30 04:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[The shadows don't have much of a head to nod, but some of them seem to dip lower in a strange approximation of the gesture.

Then they stopped in the middle of it, reconsidering, and reversed the gesture into a shake.
]

You didn't notice my presence. But I saw you, in the halls of...a hospital. Lady Maria was at your side.
Edited (smh I can read) 2021-03-31 16:08 (UTC)
whomthebelltolls: (Inside my head)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2021-03-30 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Hm? You mean the dream-like quality of it, or... [Ah, well, that's going to be another thing to try to explain, buuuut-] The magic in the air? Being a Monster does make you more sensitive and receptive to magic. It's... a product of this particular dream.
fuelingfire: (Default)

[personal profile] fuelingfire 2021-03-31 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Some months ago Lahabrea had reluctantly suggested there might be some call for a kind of saddle.. and this is exactly why. He hadn't predicted his own circumstances, but aerial riding was absolutely nothing like being on the ground, and suddenly being jerked around was simply how it went. He knew that, after countless centuries perfecting winged horses, but passing that information on AND having something done about it.. well it's too late now.

And there's other concerns besides. The smell of blood, the sting of foreign pain - but no lingering echo of the Cwyld. It doesn't seem that the dragon himself is harmed as yet, there's blood on his feathers but it's not his, and the ash.. well, that can't be helped. Staying in the sky prevented most forms of injury since most Shades simply couldn't fly.

Whatever his inspection reveals, it draws little more than a grunt that might be satisfaction, and a brief curl of a long forked tongue that can't quite reach its goal of blood and wound, and no true clear response. It's noise, but it's not threatening noise, and the creature he considered kin-lairmate-something didn't seem too badly injured to hunt. That was important. This prey couldn't be brought back to a safe location to injured flightmates for consumption later, it was an extermination.

But there's slightly more care in the way Lahabrea picks his way to slightly less unstable roofing, wings fanning wide again, one ear swiveled back in Elidibus' direction. Injured was still a liability, and care needed to be taken at least a little. That he could do, until (if) his companion figured out how to fly again on his own. The lurch skyward is just as jarring as before, but at least this time there's warning of it, a pause that couldn't be anything but deliberate, and this time he intends to clear the worst of the smoke before he stops.
notbert: (elidibus-examines)

[personal profile] notbert 2021-03-31 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
There had been little doubt in Elidibus's mind regarding flight and saddles. It is why he'd had a saddle made for the amaro. Saddles really, but that's another tale. The important part of this tale is plain. Had the circumstances not been this dire, he would not be trying to hitch a ride on a dragon's back.

Also, it wouldn't have done much good here in the dream, would it? Briefly, the Emissary will reach a hand toward the muzzle and flicking tongue, seeking to let there be contact however brief. Though all too soon more practical action will need to be pursued. Namely, escape from the wreckage of the building and dangers of the ground.

The pain Elidibus still feels has been lessened by the healing spell. It's still there but it is in no way life-threatening and more importantly he is not weakening from loss of blood. With the care Lahabrea displays in moving across the crumbling building before taking flight again, his passenger can reestablish a firm seat and indicate preparedness both in physical stabilization and the transference of readiness through the Bond.

While Lahabrea gains altitude, Elidibus keeps himself low, his mouth and nose covered by a fold of fabric while still in the smoke and enough of his mental 'self' aware of his surroundings. The rest seeks to delve into the connection of the Bond as a means to remain in contact. And to seek answers to questions which have no real answer in the waking world should this shared dream prove any form of insight to them. In this state, and as he has sensed before, are not the 'dragon' Lahabrea fights against and the Speaker himself truly not the same entity?

It is... novel? This way of communication. Being two distinct people but also reaching out to one another's souls. It was not the fusion of a Prime and yet it was hard not to compare the experience to what has been witnessed before. It is not the inborn ability that present-day mortals of Eorzea referred to as the 'Echo' either- being able to experience someone else's memories or emotions. Yet this also was difficult to avoid thinking about.

It isn't with words that he 'speaks' of course. But something like a greeting is imparted.
oftheletter: (shoulder)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-03-31 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[The only thing Near is still wearing is the pendant that moderates his body temperature. The cord it hands from might have worked for restraining L also, but he would prefer to save that for a last resort. He's not certain how cold it will get here.]

I could hypnotize you.

[He says this thoughtfully, keeping a safe distance back now that the other man is restrained. If he lashes out again he could still end up getting some bound feet to the chin. His other option would have been to bind him standing up, except that seemed too cruel a thing to do to his bonded.]

I know I said I was curious to see it. However, I don't know how well it will hold up against the mental damage caused by the infection. Most likely not well at all. I wouldn't want to cause you further undue stress.

[Realizing this might be too much for L to take in at the moment, he adds more simply:] Keep repeating the names.
hearthebell: (We tend to bruise easily)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-03-31 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[L relies on his hands for most of his magic, whether in the drawing or tracing of delicate runes or the generation of frost or lighting, the touch at a temple to subtly enter and take stock of a mind. Binding them actually does keep the slight man's most dangerous assets restrained, much as removing his fingers had been a very effective countermeasure toward his preferred casting method.

He'd found workarounds then, and as long as he retains his cleverness in this state, he can find workarounds, now. For the moment, he also retains his desire to keep Near safe, and though a certain temptation is powerful--

Burn it to the ground, and leave

--they'd agreed to try to learn something from this.]


Stress?

[His brief laughter is harsh and disbelieving. They've been well past the point where that would have mattered, or helped, for quite some time.]

No, this... it's a salvage mission, OK? It's time to focus on what's important. Should we ever be in this situation in the waking world... if it's possible to slow the Cwyld's effects on the mind through hypnotism, this is an unreplicatable practice opportunity. Regardless of what's "likely..."

[He nods, grim, exhausted.]

We need to know if it's possible. Linden... Tailor, Eli Dagwood...
oftheletter: (book)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-04-01 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Too much stress could also cause L to deteriorate more quickly. But of course the witch is right. They won't get another opportunity like this one, and Near won't make the offer a second time.]

Sit still.

[The order is given quietly with nothing behind it as Near slowly slithers in a half circle around the other man. The mental cogs are whirling. He needs commands to keep L focused, for one thing, but others need to be purely experimental. We he react? For how long? Will the directions be altered?

Will their be any mental backlash on his end?]


Keep reciting.

[This time, underneath the words is the command for L to sing every word in his reply.]
hearthebell: (The light in your eyes keeps fading out)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-04-01 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
[L's been still, but there are still a series of restless, jerking movements that don't seem quite voluntary, ranging from fidgets to spasms. Whether they're sudden and ineffective bids to escape or just his rapid, shallow breath, he's never completely motionless.

That changes with Near's order; he releases his labored breath in a sigh. Now, he's hardly breathing at all, shallow and silent the way it is for one on the edge of a sedated sleep.

He peers up blearily, allowing Near easy eye contact for the second part. He's tired, to the point where it's a lot to ask of him to give the words voice, but he nods, and follows through.]


Eli... Dagwood, Linden Tailor. Eli Dagwood, Linden... Tailor....

[The words aren't quite sung, the way Inuit throat singing isn't. It resembles the latter a bit more in his struggle.]
oftheletter: (child)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-04-01 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
[There might have been children at Wammy's who dreamed of their mentor coming to them at night and quietly singing them to sleep the way an actual parental figure would do. As if they were someone special. As if all their studying meant something. Near hadn't been one of those children. If he had been, he imagines he would have been fairly disappointed with the reality of things.

That's not a fair way to think, though. L is under duress and hypnotism.]


That's good.

[Stop, says the voice underneath.]

Keep going.

[Tell me about your favorite foods. List them off. He starts with simple things. Mundane requests. If he allows these, he might be more pliable when it comes to more difficult commands. These are harmless, hardly worth struggling against. It's just a list of a different sort.

He slides a bit lower to the ground, keeping himself from looking in any way intimidating.]
hearthebell: will credit if found (Now my neck is open wide)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-04-01 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
[L always entertained Near's potential disappointment as a possibility. He believes it's why they can remain Bonded without disillusionment or disgust, because if Near felt those things for him before his death in their world, there's been enough time for it to fade. They've lived similar enough lives that there's a sort of empathy to the isolation and pressure the L position entails, and they've been surrounded by the same small handful of people with a world otherwise oblivious to the names and faces attached to their astonishing, famous deeds.

Maybe it's unfair; maybe it's inevitable. He shudders, breathes, and his mind filters through the commands voiced and unspoken.]


Rugelach.

[The first thing. Burned, cursed, strange.]

Strawberries. Madeleine... Sharlotka.

[His head jerks, turns sideways. He coughs wetly against his shoulder; when his neck droops forward, a bright red stain is left smudging the white cotton.

He's not struggling; it seems as though he has little struggle left in him. The fight is staying himself for longer, before it's lost to insanity, or death, whichever comes first.]



[personal profile] silentsavant 2021-04-02 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
No matter how hard he flaps his wings or which way he tilts his body, Soren just can't win! He's going down — which is where he wants to be sent the least. He cries out in protest, fighting and bracing with all he has to avoid plummeting.

"Cut that out! I understand already! You're fighting the Cwyld."

Lahabrea doesn't need to show him what he's already seen from below. It hardly matters to Soren what befalls these dream settlers from times past and their razed and dying forest. He harbors no sympathy for them nor allegiance to their cause, to the settlement they wish to protect by cordoning off the infection with flames. All he feels is the urge to escape to a place he can observe from rather than participate in, to safeguard himself against further pain and trouble while he's stuck in this dream... and the pulse of this chaos thrumming through his system, this war of nature and magic and man stirring him up inside. He can't stand doing nothing. Moreover, he's cornered. Fight, the voice at the back of his brain rumbles. The energy rattles inside of him like a captive in a cage.

His biggest enemy is not the settlers, and it's been made reassuringly apparent that Lahabrea has a mind not to attack him, even if he has chosen to begin harassing him to join his cause. Rather, Soren receives his unspoken directive. Instead of heeding him like a commander, the untransformed dragon ultimately heeds his own best interests: to help combat his biggest threat, the Cwyld, and to make an unsteady allegiance with the other two possible sources of personal grief. The sooner the blight is dealt with, the sooner things will quiet down. He nods at Lahabrea once he recovers from the majority of his frazzled irritation.

"Very well. I don't see much other choice."

The sky becomes theirs. After all, can he really refuse without consequence? Soren draws on the power teeming over within his little body, shimmers with bluish light, and soars like a comet that doesn't vanish into the shroud of the night sky, but expands like a meteor crashing into an earthling's view: body lengthening, wings growing, scales hardening... and unlike the feathered dragon, hovering comes easier to him. He spots the fires struggling to combat the Cwyld along the moist corridor of the river and heads in that direction, unleashing his ethereal blue flames upon the orange ones. They leap at this source of inspiration, roar and dance with renewed fervor as the black dragon drags his attack along the bank's woods.
gynvael: (024)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-04-02 07:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ His attention cuts briefly to the fallen necklace, startled by its presence when he hadn't seen it. To him, it seems to fall from nowhere, dropping out of the beast's belly.

He steers clear of the spilled blood, for all the good that might do. Its rotted smell fills the hazy air. He can't see which part of the forest is real or not; he could be rolling in the infected earth and have not a damn clue. But when he steps forward next, his feet sink into the earth—or no. Something's pulling, gripping him tight.

He twists around with a curse. The claws are thick and sharp; they tear as they jerk him back, sending him to his hands and knees. The angle means he can't easily bring his sword down.

But the manticore is not the only one with claws. He swipes his with wolf's claws. Would it make a difference? Does the Fae feel pain in its own illusions? He has no idea, but he's digging in as hard as he can until the feet either rip apart or release him. ]
oftheletter: (ew)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-04-03 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
Rugelach?

[Near wrinkles his nose up slightly at that.]

Of course it is. I'll remember that.

[It wouldn't have been realistic to expect L to answer with anything simple like a specific candy bar or cake flavor. He makes a mental note of everything mentioned. It might make gifts easier after this is over.

He frowns at the coughing, but doesn't move closer to get a better look.]


Look at me. What's my name again?

[Answer the question. Maintain your focus. Ignore the disease. It's heavily doubtful that he'll be able to get L to trick himself into thinking he's healthier than he actually is. Yet there's no better time to try.]
hearthebell: will credit if found (Now my neck is open wide)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-04-03 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
[L nods, the motion lolling and uncontrolled. His shirt is sticking to his skin beneath the chains that bind him as he burn up with fever, shivering as though he's actually freezing. In fact, in desperate and instinctive magic, a glaze of ice begins to form on his skin before trickling away in failure. He's too warm; it can't stay.

He looks at Near with red-rimmed, heavy-lidded eyes. They seem as though they can't focus on the other man, staring somewhere into a middle distance before faltering blearily, trying again.

They widen. He bolts back against the pole he's tied to, feet scuffing against the dirt floor. It's the first sign L has shown like cowardice, the first sign suggesting that escape might be a motive.]


...A.

[The vowel sighed, a gentle sound, a petrified sound.]

Why... why are you here, you'd...

[Harsh and violent movements, mindless of the bindings or the pole; hurting himself is preferable to this perceived encounter.]

I didn't know.

[He shakes his head, tense and frantic.]

Please believe that I didn't know.
Edited 2021-04-03 05:05 (UTC)
oftheletter: (thoughts)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-04-03 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
["Eh?" No. No, it's a letter. A person from a house of letters. A. L is mistaking him for someone else. Someone Near knows very little about.

It seems as though the man is beyond hypnosis at this point. If the naga's attempt had done anything it hadn't been enough. The infection has spread too far into the witch's system. Near slithers back slightly, raising himself from the ground.]


Linden.

[Not L. This is an instance where using that name in an attempt to draw him back to the present might instead only push him further into the memory. There's a good chance that trying to pull him free of this will be futile. Even so, he'd rather not purposefully make it worse.

This isn't going to be pleasant.]


Linden Tailor. Look at me. I'm not angry.

[He doesn't directly contradict the man. He doesn't try and tell him he's not who he thinks he is. Someone in a delusional state won't respond well to that. L will have to draw his own conclusions.]
hearthebell: (5000 people with designer drugs)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-04-03 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[L doesn't want to look at Near; with no avenues for easy escape, his gaze is the only available one, and it's currently averted, rigidly fixed to the floor on his Bonded's left side.

To pull his gaze back to Near's face is astonishingly difficult; it's clear in every moment that passes, the hoarseness of L's voice and the pallor of his skin.]


No... you're not angry. They said that you never were...

[Haunted eyes break away again, before returning to inhabit their torment.]

They always said that nothing at all bothered you. Obviously, it... it wasn't the case.

[He speaks quickly, as though pressed.]

I truly wanted it to be, I spent days going over all the ways it could have been foul play, because I wanted to think that someone could be that strong, but...

[His breathlessness is the only thing that keeps him from continuing in the same broken, strange, desperate vein. It's likely that once he recovers, it will continue unless he's interrupted.]
Edited 2021-04-03 20:24 (UTC)
oftheletter: (eye)

[personal profile] oftheletter 2021-04-04 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
[Some of the babbling might have been important to Near once. Curious inklings of a past he had little part in. But that reign of L is in the past. He would only be sating his own curiosity to ask about it. He won't direct this conversation that way. His bonded's mental health is more important.

He can't tell L that he's not seeing what he thinks he is. This isn't a spell he can break the man free of. The best he might be able to do is calm him somewhat.

Not that he's particularly good at comforting.

Though Near had wanted to avoid actually touching L for as long as possible, he decides that the best course of action he can take right now is to slap his mentor as hard as he can across the face.

(And it has to be as hard as he can, or else it probably wouldn't do much at all.)]


Stop talking. I told you to look at me. Are you that afraid?

[It's not a fair thing to ask. Anyone would be afraid in his position.]

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