thousand dreams, lotus boats upon the waters

[promittere]

NEW MOON ADAGIO

Between the constant requests from the North and the sense of tension that pervades the manor, Sage Tatara makes an executive decision: we're going North, baby.

Of all the things that have happened thus far, let this be the ultimate test of your magic. Even as we near summer, it's frigid. Protect yourselves and your allies from the cold. Protect yourselves while also fighting off monsters (or other territorial wizards, should you make the terrible mistake of wandering into another's territory), flying through the vast wilderness, or protecting the poor humans who need your help to survive. Time to blow off some of your steam. Just be sure to obey Tatara's one rule: don't kill each other.

One particular problem of note is in the Forest of Dreams. Without its guardian, many of these rogue monsters and dangerous predators, displaced from their normal habitats, have found their way into the forest. Many of them, however, are unable to survive against the fatal toxin, and there are plenty of animal corpses and mana stones that litter the forest. It might be best to clean these up before the forest guardian returns...

That said, the toxin is yet another thing you must protect yourself against in addition to the cold. While you can likely keep yourself from dying from the toxins, you may not be immune to its effects. This deadly toxin causes anyone who breathes it in to dream and hallucinate vividly, be it images of the past, imagined futures, thoughts of the present processed and warped...

Strangely enough, those nearby may end up sharing in your dreams... Did you want the darkest recesses of your thoughts, hopes, and fears unearthed for others to see?

Those who decide to venture far past the more populated (in relative terms) parts of the North may find themselves stumbling upon what looks to be an abandoned bandit hideout. It seems it's been abandoned for quite a while—nothing to loot here, sorry!—but there sure are a whole lot of monsters that have decided to make this hidden corner of the North their home.

While you're at it, you may find a nearby cave. Beautiful crystals dot the walls and the floors, and there are small pools of hot spring water free for relaxing. It seems to be relatively free of monsters, too. So maybe this wouldn't be a bad spot to relax, away from everything else?

However, there's one thing that makes this cave truly unique, and it isn't the vistas or the springs—it's the bats. These bats hear echoes of the past and replay them for visitors. Should you stay a while and listen, a bat may pay you a visit. And when it does, it may play for you the voices from the memories of visitors past, whose stories may hold a clue or two to your circumstances...

While the Forest of Dreams is a memory/dreamshare free for all, the aural memories replayed by the bats in the Cave of Time will come from one of the original wizards only. If you'd like an audio replay of a perhaps significant moment either in their personal life or a clue as to what happened to them (it will be randomized), then please reply to this comment!

JOB BOARD

Clean-up and repairs. While thanks to the hard work of your Eastern friends the worst was prevented, the City of Rain emerged from their short ordeal a little worse for wear.

Buildings need repair, blood needs to be cleaned off the streets, the injured need help. This is, perhaps, the only time you will be allowed to use magic openly in the city (you've been given permits and everything!), but you still are not allowed to talk outside of designated zones. Please, please don't get arrested...

As for the scrap that litters the streets? Unfortunately, you'll have to take it back to the scrapyard. But this time, there's a big, roaring bonfire out there. Just chuck all the scrap and debris in the fire. The city isn't taking any second chances—extreme situations call for extreme measures.

Reverence. Several Northern villages are currently outside the protection of a wizard, and have requested the sage's wizards' presence. They're terrified of the monsters and worried the barriers for their villages will fail sooner than later. They don't simply ask for help for free, however, and these smaller villages are steeped in their tradition—they'll pay you their respects, praying to you, offering you gifts, groveling at your feet, in hopes for a modicum of your time and protection. Do their offerings please you? Then assist them with what you deem appropriate for their worship to you: kill a few monsters for them, or a lot if you're pleased. Strengthen the barrier a lot, or not at all if you're displeased. It's up to you! You have the power here. What's it like to be a god for a day?

Ladies' night. The monthly lady officers' gathering is coming up in the City of Affluence—it's an exclusive meetup for the women involved in and related to Western military and bureaucratic affairs. Anyone is welcome, so long as they meet two requirements: they are outwardly presenting feminine, and they have an invitation to the gathering. Here's your chance to flex your transformation and glamour spells! Infiltrate the meetup with a disguise and a fake invitation, mingle, enjoy the drinks, the jazz, the entertainment, and find out what you can... What's the Western army up to? Be careful, though—don't get caught and kicked out!

The attendees seem to be excited about the new phantasmagoria technology and the upcoming display, and many whisper about the upcoming Venator meteor shower...

G'RAHA TASKS

Greetings, new friends! I am G'raha Tia, and while I hesitate to call myself a mentor or a replacement for the one you had, I am eternally grateful for the assistance I received and will do my best to help your cause in any way I can. To that end, I feel I may need to be caught up to speed on the events and get to know all of you.

We can have some tea and sandwiches and have a discussion! That's the best way to learn, sometimes.

TATARA ACTIVITIES

Even if we're not here for very long, I think we should leave our mark (not literally! Don't paint on the walls!). I got paint and big paper in the dining hall, but no brushes... Do you know what that means? Finger paint! Finger paint a portrait of yourself with your name and I'll hang it up in the library when they're all done!

Thanks to Cid and Khun, my camcorder works now. The thing is, what's the point of filming anything if we have no way to watch the film?! Could you guys work together to make some kind of projector? Or like...VHS player? We could have a movie night together!

OOC NOTES

🌙 Welcome to your fourth event! It's your dreamshare and memshare event! Ready to open up with your deepest and darkest secrets?
🌙 We're halfway through the game. How do you feel?
🌙 Back at the manor, Kurapika and Maya have set up a bulletin board! Leave comments, argue with your neighbors, have fun. Be nice. Don't set it on fire.
🌙 On the admin side of things, Lav has swapped out Wanderer for G'raha! Please say hello to your new mentor NPC.
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Remember to keep all wider plotting to the post, and remember to check back frequently, since not everyone checks plurk or discord all the time.
🌙 The next country to go on their mission is North. Do you think a PVP-enabled mission will go well?

» NAVIGATION

Comments

[fellheart]

[ despite the many things he can claim, being psychic isn't one of them. at least, not free telepathy with just about anyone, anyway. if you really want you can blood pact with him to change that.

digression aside, robin doesn't immediately acknowledge the side glance, instead maintains the air of a self-important, aloof god oh so generously deigning to offer their benediction for as long as it takes to for the two of them to be out of earshot. eventually, when there are no more villagers milling about: ]

If you stare too much I may grow self-conscious, you know. Surely nothing I've done or said has been that interesting?

[ what can he have done to deserve that kind of attention, hm? ]

[fellheart]

[ what could possibly go wrong with this ]

[foresightis2020]

No, it should not.

It could be the herald of some type of monster who is able to control weather patterns. Though in retrospect, that too is unlikely.

[ Jing Yuan hasn't exactly had this happen due to a memory yet so unfortunately that is not on his mind as an immediate possibility.

As he is about to say something else, well. It feels even colder, darker...the lights go out completely for a moment.

...But, is anybody home? ]

Dream Big --- Joining IDOLiSH

[themanwhoerasedhisname]

As usual. Keep your guard up.

[Because Kiryu expects there to be magical beasts attacking. He doesn't suspect this is the memoryshare forest!]

[jokey]

[The smell of death, of wanton destruction, has never been so sharp. It stings his eyes and overwhelms his senses, nausea crawling up his throat and lingering there. Where is he? Who is he? And Solomon... Is he still here? Trapped with him in this apocalyptic hellscape?

Who, or what, could have caused this much destruction? Akira ambles towards a person, the first one he sees, and falls to his knees in search of a pulse. Please be alive. Please tell him his eyes are playing a cruel trick on him, that he'll wake with a start from a single pinch back in the world he belongs in. Tell him this is all a lie.]

[foresightis2020]

[ Now that just makes something like a swirl of amusement rise up from within Jing Yuan. ]

Oh no, it appears I may have already just done so. So, indeed, I have to wonder...whatever shall I do?

[ Jing Yuan's tone is decidedly, unrepentantly playful. It's...almost strange he can even manage that, but somehow also freeing, and most certainly enjoyable. Feeling the way the other man's hands are against his even through the gloves feels like such a privilege, as silly as that might sound.

There is also a part of him that feels something like undeniable triumph for Solomon to be wearing clothes he made. ]

I certainly did. I have endeavored to practice magic every day, though it does help that this is something of a specialty amongst those assigned to the West.

[ Having more latent talent/skill in altering clothing via magic, transformation, and manipulation magic in general. He seems even more proud at hearing the compliment, however, rare as that is. ]

I am just happy that you like them, even if I had already thought that they would be quite suitable for you.

[fallingsand]

...the guy's immortal and that's what he spends his time on?

[ Unbelievable. ]

W-wait. You... Khun, are you immortal, too?

[impacter]

[Solomon sits right where he had been, still braced against the ground.

The nearest corpse is of a young woman. The body is still warm, but pale, bloody, and covered in debris. There is no pulse. Several more can be seen on his direct vicinity. None appear to be alive.

You can hear more scream in the distance. Your distress climbs. No. No, no, you tried so hard. You were trying so hard. And yet your magic bubbles ferociously in your limbs, in your throat, no matter how you keep trying to press it down like you've tried for years. But it hurts. It hurts, and you feel what little grip you have over your own power slipping.

They had died because of you. And you want to scream until your throat goes hoarse. There has to be something you can do, something, something something.

Akira will feel the urge to double over, like his magic is trying to burst from his skin if he doesn't pull himself together.]

[jokey]

[It can't be, it can't be. One dead, two, ten, a thousand, the bodies countless and innumerable, but they can't all be dead. There's no way, no accepting the sheer amount of death and destruction at his feet. All the while, something's festering in Akira that he can't ignore, the feeling of something more powerful than him threatening to claw its way out and overtake him.

In the corner of his eye, Akira sees Solomon there. He fights to reach out a hand and his body refuses to cooperate. He can't possibly reach Solomon when every cell in his body is screaming out in pain, his sense of self pushed down, crushed, suffocated. Some part of him, the will and the ego and the self, is going to die.]

You can't- You can't do this—! Satanael!

[He calls for his Persona knowing it won't come, knowing he's dying out to the power threatening to overwhelm him, but there has to be something, something, something he can do—]

Solomon...! Hey! Help me!

[—Even if that something is calling out for help like he seldom has before.]

[impacter]

[It's the call for him by name that has Solomon's attention immediately snapped towards Akira.

Swallowing thickly, Solomon stumbles to Akira's side, a sharp inhale and shaking exhale at the contact. In Akira's mind, in his ears, like it's him and yet not, he hears the dry and pained gasps of a phantom; a young man, a pained man, a desperate man, not him and not his fellow wizard, but of a fledgling sorcerer hardly in his twenties. Yelling. Mourning. Gasping for pain against the ground, the ache of utter tragedy. The magic exists regardless.

It hurts, and from how Solomon physically shudders along with Akira at the waves of power, it's affecting both of them. But he grips the boy by the shoulders, pulling him just enough away from the corpse to focus on him instead.]

I'm here.

Breathe. Follow instinct or it's just going to keep happening.

[The death. The destruction.

"Please------- Please, let me take it back!!!!!"

Hoarse words to the dead. Pointless crying from the wolf among the slaughtered lambs. Heaven won't hear you.

So call for help. Make them come from elsewhere. The mind rushes in desperation. To make a circle, a spell, a pleading. Drawing from phantom memories, phantom theories, the mystical and dark and forbidden.

Instinct says a circle is possible. Logic says you will die. Fear smells the blood in the air and feels the burn of your magic like bile in your throat.

Solomon keeps his touch firm. He's here. Even though the phantom, the memory, has no one at all.]

[fallingsand]

[ As tense as a bowstring but he will turn, however stiffly, to peek up at Solomon from under the shadow of curly hair. ]

Are we, though? Are we...?

[ He's trying his best to get his breathing under control. It becomes easier as the pain, the sensations, and all the horror drain away, fading alongside the memory of the past. It would have worked, too, if it wasn't for the crack of thunder that echoes far overhead before he truly has a chance to ground himself properly.

Despite the thick forest canopy overhead and the frozen wintery landscape around them, fat, warm raindrops can be felt beginning to trickle down. Bruno looks up with a startled jerk. ]

Wh-what? Rain?

[fallingsand]

I mean, they're. They're from monsters, not. Hm. Are monsters animals?

[ Bruno isn't sure. Still, he'll give his head a shake. ]

It just creeps me out, know this was. I dunno. Something else's magic? Or whatever?

[fallingsand]

[ Wait, why is Ahito hurrying over? Wow, does the kid want mana stones that much? Bruno still thinks they're sort of gross but... Of course, while he's wondering about that, he isn't paying much mind to how thick the fog around them grows once Ahito is next to him. ]

Ahito? Is something wrong?

[jokey]

[This pain isn't his to endure — that much, Akira is aware of — but it hurts just the same. Solomon's voice is a salve, the relief temporary, but it grounds Akira enough to keep him from losing himself entirely.

He's never felt this hurt, this lost, this pained— or maybe he has, just once, during the time he awakened to the second self within him. If he'd lost control then, his Shadow would have swallowed him whole. This is the same, and yet it isn't, because everyone is dead, gone, and it's his own hands that caused this.

...No, no, no. He didn't do this. The man beside him did. Still, still—

Pulled aside, Akira's vision swims in and out of focus, but he measures every inhale, every exhale, until he can see more than just the fuzzy outline of the man in front of him.]

Instinct? What do you...?

[Disembodied voices scream and Akira violently jerks, but he can't escape them. He can't ignore them, and he certainly can't save them, right?

Right?

No, no, no. Akira's hands scrabble along the ashen ground, giving into the impulse to do something, anything, to turn the tide of destruction and bring this nightmare to an end. Logic is thrown out the window in favor of burying an incisor in his thumb and biting down until blood gushes from the tip. He'll draw that circle, he'll make that sacrifice, because his life is nothing in comparison to what's been lost. Instinct will draw the shape, and Akira's blood will follow.]

If no one can help, then—!

[Then it isn't people he needs. It's those beings that lie in the realm between the waking and the dead.]

[impacter]

[Your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

The memory provides the knowledge, and so long as you follow instinct, it makes sense. Ingenuity out of desperation. A space for protection. A space for the vessel. Written incantations that feel like a mockery under the bitter rolling of your stomach. Sanctuary, sanctuary, protection against that which devours man.

There's not enough of a catalyst with only the thumb. You don't have to even think twice. There's pain, sharp and vibrant against the palm, and though neither of them find an injury, it can still be felt, blood dripping and coating the fingers. Tracing, writing, with no finesse.

The shape of the pentagram, the curves of the serpent, the directions and their marks. Time, Time, you need more time. The start of the seal splatters under heavy breathes. You need more time. You wipe mud and ash and sweat from your face, so focused that you can hear nothing but the heart beating in your ears and the begging need of your soul.

Let me take it back.

It's as he finishes the last draw of the circle, an attempt to close it, that Akira will feel Solomon's grip tighten, his own face pale with the effort. He is here to hold Akira up, but not to write this for him.

He knows his place.]

Don't hesitate. You are not something to be devoured.

Demand what you need.

[As the lines draw close with a startling ice to the veins, as the depths open against the pull of your overwhelming magic like a hungry beast, like falling into the bottomless pit of the sea. Hell stares into you, demanding what your soul is worth, what you desire, what you will die to eternity for.

He's out there. He can reverse this. He can turn it back.

Barbatos.]

[erythropoiesis]

[An ominous statement, paired with the way the world changes around them. G'raha looks around at all the devestation—the flattened buildings, the motionless body, the ash and flames. It looks like something exploded, or erupted, an uncontrollable force that brought so many lives to an end in an instant.

He puts a hand to his chest, closing his eyes as he tries to reconcile what he sees to what he feels, and he wonders...]

And do those dangers include ourselves?

[He remembers how he arrived, the fragmented bits of his memories on display for everyone to see, and so he wonders if this is a memory of the man he's only just met?]

Or our pasts?

[dyingtohealyou]

...I don't think those are kids...

[And for once, he hates to be right, because at that moment the hallucinations take hold, a child led by his parents into a lab to meet a man who promises him magic, and a lonely girl kept isolated in a room, her small body covered in bandaged wounds--

What plays out is not a happy story.]

[dyingtohealyou]

...

Got any good stories of her, then?

[He's willing to listen.]

Forest of Dreams - randomize me a memory cap'n

[dyingtohealyou]

Looks like we had the same idea.

[He's picking up mana stones as he finds them, though he's tossing them into a bag for later.]

[dyingtohealyou]

Just admiring how threatening you can make "take care of yourselves" sound.

[He would not have had that kind of grace, personally.]

[dyingtohealyou]

[He is noticing that, and growing more concerned!!]

Did you put up a barrier against the toxins?

[He's about ready to try to cast one himself on the spot.]

[fellheart]

Hmm? I said no such thing, of course. I merely warned them to remember that even if they benefit from our aid right now, they do so only out of the goodness of our hearts ...

[ a low, humourless laugh. ]

Truly it must be miserable having to scrabble for favor so. Not all wizards would be so generous, after all, and yet they take to it so easily.

[jokey]

[No cost is too great, no sacrifice too extreme. Take it back. As the blood in Akira's veins begins to freeze, numbness settling like a heavy fog over his senses, that desperation becomes its own sort of strength.

Demand what you need, was it? Akira's lips curve into a smile, something jagged and broken, the look in his eyes frenzied and inhuman. He doesn't need to be told twice. Blood and ash and mud filthy him, but he doesn't care one bit. Take it back. All that matters is fixing what's been broken.

The words come to him of their own accord, but the manner in which they rip from his screaming mouth is oh so familiar. Like second nature, the words speak themselves.]

Come forth! Barbatos!

[It is not a prayer, nor an ask, not a request and certainly not a plea. It's a demand, one that stirs and bursts forth from the sea of his soul.]

cw: demon stuff, death

[impacter]

[Akira rises, crazed, confident, power in his tone and in his stance. In his minds eye, the same words echo from 5000 years prior, with an outstretched hand and desperate determination in the strength of it, throat aching. The call goes out, a demand for an answer without a pact to bind it, a blind but brilliant shot through the depths of hell.

Something grabs up immediately in return.

Into the space between the mortal and the non, an icy claw digs into the soul, a grip that tears in deep and yanks. Payment, payment, payment, the spiraling of hell demands its payment of humanity. Is this the vessel, this frail one with the brilliant soul? They grip, and grip, and grip. They pull at you. At your soul. Feed them. Serve them. One more into the fires, one more into the flies, one more into the mouth.

Even with such a tremendous amount of magic at your disposal, you can already feel that a piece of this portal you have made is missing. And you, yourself, are making up the difference, as your body starts to deteriorate under the payment. It all happens within a moment, the taste of blood hot in your throat as your chest burns for air.

Then the connection settles, a brief and brilliant pause, before a rippling blast explodes outwards in a swirling of demonic smoke.

Solomon and Akira are both sent tumbling in different directions. And the phantom, the young man, now clearly a much younger Solomon, rattled and bleeding and broken, crumples backwards into a heap next to the haphazard circle.

In the middle of the seal stands a creature. It looks down, with dark and cold eyes, at the man crumpled. Its gaze narrows. It doesn't speak.

He splutters. His breath is so shallow, fists gripping tight as though the sensation is leaving them.

--P---power...

A choking wheeze, an attempt not to cough.

He's dying. You feel it, in the weakness, in the cold, in the way the surroundings seem to blot. But every drop of energy he has is spent in locking eyes with his prize, in a confidence that shouldn't belong to a dead man, that shouldn't echo in his battered voice.

Barbatos...

Obey me... that whomst hath summoned y-you...

Lend... me your power...

L...

Lend me your power...

There's the quietest of chuckles, smooth and sinister, even as Akira is finally let free of the bitter connection. The demon slides to the crumpled man, the lightest of touches to his shoulder.

A beat, in which the air flashes brutally cold. And the two vanish completely.

And as they vanish, so do the colors, back out into the snow where both wizards now lay prone in the brush of the forest.]

[leewards]

Even if we did, do you think we would undo centuries of culture ingrained into the people?

[Ithaqua means that as a rhetorical question. He absolutely does not believe that anything will change, especially if the original wizards return and the world goes back into its old state. They will simply undo any change in the peoples' thinking that the current Northern wizards will manage to accomplish, if they accomplish anything.

Best to leave it alone.]