MOD EVENT #001

[oblivium]

A CHAOTIC RESPITE

It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”

...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)

When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”

So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you: I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?

If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.

.

► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME

Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”

And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.

► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.

. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN

The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.

---

ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

Comments

[boarwitness]

[hm.]

Why would I be? You lost.

[he says it flippantly, watching claude's face with careful eyes.

more dissonance. the feeling was familiar, irritating to remember his most recent encounter with it. wanting revenge? that implied several things. and although he hadn't been the one to fight claude personally, he had eyes—and the man in front of him was both lacking and possessing certain features. he drums his fingers on the table once, waiting.

the merrymaking continues on around them unabated.]

[fessus]

Just bc it wouldn't work doesn't mean it's a terrible idea.

[ Yes. Yes, it does. ]

I don't KNOW what my goal is okay, you're part of the problem and not the solution rn.

Howd you get your name to be fire?

[terraria]

( he makes sure to cover his hands with a thin, watery substance - he rubs it over his hands before he takes out a few poultices. )

While it has, that doesn't mean you should neglect your body. Were you able to eat and drink during the festival?

( aspen gingerly unwraps a bandage with a greenish batch of herby pulp - he dabs the outside of the wound. it stings a little, but it's a refreshing feeling afterwards. )

[philandery]

[ or so he says. sylvain's got another idea. drink it first, that way felix can't chicken out of the ordeal. ]

Sure. But if you back out on me, that means you're weak.

[ it's the absolute most juvenile threat he can issue to felix, but hopefully the most effective? he moves quickly, with the idea that if he acts fast enough felix can't call out the fact that he never agreed to any of this. ]

Cheers!

[ it's bottoms up! he eyes felix the entire time he's drinking the godawful concoction. are you a WEAKLING? ]

[oomfies]

[ Lottie is so oblivious to anything around her that doesn't involve her that, really, her initial impression of Yoru is: surprise. Intimidation?? Shock (there's someone there, still????). And confusion, because in her mind she didn't do anything wrong — it's the weather's fault! The road's fault for making her step all the more likely to slip. Also, whoever packed the bag in her hands.. Herself!! ]

N-no..

[ Despite having said this, she really can't think of anything else to say, a terrible mix of flustered and frustrated. It shows on her face, how hard her brain is working to make something come out, and she only grows more nervous because this girl is very confident? And pretty, but scary? Is this a confrontation happening?!

She groans, using her hands to try and shield the rain off her head. ]

God, I just — I need my stupid pumpkins for my stupid yard so can you.. Move your foot???

[terraria]

How did I manage...?

( aspen repeats it, mostly to himself, trying to figure out how to answer such a question. )

How do you manage to be kind? How does anyone manage anything?

( a beat - and he laughs. )

I apologize, that's a non-answer, isn't it? Being strict is... love, with structure. At the very least - that is what it is for me. The harem I was in charge of was... not an efficient place, and it was not a place that was safe for the courtesans inside. I took it upon myself to change that, and to do that, I had to be strict. You must understand that letting someone run recklessly will end in their getting hurt, so you must say 'don't go past that line'. And when they cross it, you must give the due punishment - or else, they'll do it again. It will be as if you never gave a limit in the first place.

It is putting others needs first, above your own feelings and desire to be liked. You must be ready to be hated and still continue to care.

[terraria]

( he'll take that as permission to go along, then. he falls into step beside her, and then raises his gaze to kainé's. )

I will follow your lead.

[windsongs]

[ Gotta have mad respect for a hunter with hustle!

Hibiki starts to nod but quickly stops. Probably best not to jerk her head around too much, even if the wound she has is mostly superficial. ]

That's what I've heard from others. A lot of the injuries I've seen were from the Horseman fleeing the scene, or from people trying to either get out of the way or chase after him. But it's hard to say if he was taking advantage of members of the Hierarchy being all in one place or if the Warding ritual had something to do with it too...

i apologize for stupid naruto power descriptions

[chokuto]

[So his judgment was correct. As D sprints ahead, the Sharingan tails him, chasing that preternatural speed with calculation — and he's reaffirmed in his decision to enlist the other Restless now, where it matters. Whether D is a person to rely on cannot be said fully. In the heat of the moment, only action makes the difference, and D is doing as told. The next victim is swept out of the way and the horseman is galloping out of view to hunt an alternative target.

Sasuke pursues, scaling buildings and crossing roofs to bridge distance in great leaps of chakra to keep pace, intent on getting ahead and blocking the way. He can see D below him, a black streak through the crowds. Another civilian is rescued; but all the same another is lost, because the horseman is too fast, too quick, and too maniacally aimless in its massacre. The next head rolls off the curb in a sick, wet trail of glossy blood beneath the moons. Still, the collateral is lessened to a degree.

Yet on the next leap — where he's aiming to finally get ahead of the horseman, and cut off the way — chakra sputters from beneath the soles of his feet like a candleflame in the wind. Sasuke rockets straight down; the horseman dives at him with blade raised; his eye flashes, and a luminescent, half-formed, purple skeleton wraps itself around him in protection. The attack deflects harmlessly off a blazing rib cage, and the horseman gallops off.]

He's headed for the docks. [Sasuke is on his feet, dispelling Susanoo and looking around for D with expectation.] Are you coming?

[philandery]

[ (yeah who cares about leon)

it takes a moment for the words to filter through his confusion, but eventually they do sink in. she speaks as a collective, a 'we' and an 'us'. she brings up a conversation no one else should know about.

it's... admittedly difficult to piece together, even with these glaring context clues. with what limited frame of reference he has coming from where he does, 'possession' is the only word he can really think for it.

and he has utterly no idea what to do about it, or how to help fukawa. he ignores the unpleasant sensation best he can. ]

Who the hell are you?

[windsongs]

Right, good idea.

[ Still, there's so little that they can tell from just the bones alone. She can make some educated guesses when it comes to healed breaks, but she isn't a doctor. To be honest, she's pretty useless when it comes to this sort of thing, except in a very specific instance.

Catching the water bottle, Hibiki takes a few steps before crouching down toward a smaller grouping of bones. She can't even tell if they're from the same person, but she can assume that if they did, they were young. Heaving a heavy breath, she crouches down, unscrewing the top of the water bottle before setting it face-up on the ground. Let's see, it's about half full, so she'll need to ration it a bit... ]

...

[ Wordlessly, she pours a little bit of water into her palm before carefully cleaning one of the bones. It should be a family member doing this, but hopefully some well-meaning stranger will do.

You deserved so much better than this... ]

[damnpire]

[Quietly, D lies in the straw with his hand on the wing and listens. It’s familiar. It resonates.

All he says at first is,] I understand. [As a dhampir, old in time, who believes he has nothing left of value that isn’t offering some kind of liberation to humans when they ask it of him. Finally, he adds:]

It’s why I’m a Hunter.

[Not for the money, that’s only a stipend, and not for the necessity it places on himself.

But because of the humans who take the time to thank him, who live, who have better lives or family, the ones who gain some semblance of happiness and peace.]

[constellational]

Keith! Wait—

⟪ but keith doesn’t wait. keith doesn’t do much of anything that isn’t resolute or unyielding, and when shiro’s involved, it… tends to be a little worse. this is just another one of those numerous moments. keith doesn’t flinch in the face of danger—he leaps and he punches and he wins, too, usually, but there might come a day when he doesn’t, and it’s shiro’s most haunting fear that he ultimately loses because of him.

shiro doesn’t wait, either. adrenaline kicks in and his stupor is short-lived; back on his knees on wet leaves and pine needles, he swiftly grabs keith’s wrist, a brusque tug as if to shake off the makeshift razor in his palm. it’s too late, of course. the wound is relatively deep and violent-red, dripping, and shiro swears between gritted teeth, a sharp twinge in the middle of his chest. ⟫

Damn it, Keith. ⟪ anger is fear closest’s relative. it seeps through shiro’s tone, though he’s not angry at him. it’s just. everything here, really. forcing them into territories he’d rather not explore again. his grip softens. the leaf flits to the ground between them, and shiro turns keith’s hand, delicately pressing his palm to his. ⟫ Keith… There’s two of us here. ⟪ he looks at him, earnest and weary, but beyond the silent plea, there’s an echo of a time long gone, a gentle firmness that whispers hey, you’re not alone.

almost solemnly, he picks the leaf up—or maybe it’s another. his own palm is tinted crimson now, partly covered by razor-sharp green; it’s an offering, palm up as he gives keith a meaningful glance. ⟫ You don’t have to shoulder this on your own. ⟪ and if he reads between the lines, it means… teamwork. the both of them against the world. ⟫

[spaceassassin]

[ he has the distinct impression that he’s being lectured.
already off on the wrong foot. ]

not asking about usually
asking about this specifically
do you know anything about it or not

[terraria]

( he exhales. )

Then you would not give it up either, I take it.

[chokuto]

[His gaze follows Aspen ascent, not overtly surprised that those wings are capable of flight — they would be quite useless if not — but more acknowledging the deftness and skill demonstrated in the movement. Then his attention turns ahead; he focuses on their direction, keeping it in line with where they heard the noise.

It doesn't take long for the haunting melody of music to follow. Sasuke's pace eases with caution upon approach, trusting that Aspen will do the same. Ahead of them, seated on a fallen trunk, is Puck, although Sasuke has no recognition of him. "Rest a while. Forget your troubles. Haven't you come far enough? Both of you could use it."]

He has the lantern.

[Spoken to Aspen as he leaps down from the limb of a tree onto the grassy forest floor. He does not go any closer yet.]

[chokuto]

The solution to what problem? You're creating one where it doesn't exist.

[Where is Naruto when he needs him to explain what "rn" and "bc" means.]

You can read it. [More of a statement than a question, don't sass him—] Then we speak the same language. There's a manual for the device, didn't you see it before?

[Don't make me do this, Emily.]

[damnpire]

No.

[He doesn't look over, but his lashes lower a bit over his eyes.]

I never have.

[spaceassassin]

[ sharp pain in the palm and it’s nothing, really. keith’s endured worse since leaving earth; he’s got the scars to show, too, one in particular still on his face despite his rebirth. a little older now and a little more worn, the burn mark hurts more bitterly than the current wound bloodying his palm and perhaps that’s why he goes stock-still when shiro advances on him.

he hates this about himself. he hates being afraid of shiro, even when it’s little more than a moment’s lapse in concentration. subconsciously, he seizes and he feels his heart give a thump, veins running cold. there’s pain in his palm, edging at his perception, and shiro is there, sounding angry, stepping quickly, reaching for him. last time, it had been with shiro’s right hand, not his left, and there’d been an energy blade at the end of it.

but shiro’s touch is gentle, even with all its firmness. keith’s breath stutters and he tries, really tries not to make his relief obvious.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʜɪs.

no, he will. he trusts shiro. he loves shiro. it hadn’t even been him. he bites at his inner cheek, stemming the jittery, uncomfortable feeling inside him, head nodding despite not fully hearing beyond the buzz in his skull. it’s easier – harder, but more automatic – when shiro picks up his own leaf. keith gathers himself together and stares at the offering. slowly, he drags his gaze up to shiro’s eyes and – he laughs. a short, one-noted breath of a huff, the sound startled and exasperated, amused for reasons that make no sense. he doesn’t have to shoulder this on his own? of course he does. because he has two good shoulders; he has more pieces of himself that he can give away, whereas shiro has so few.

he’s already been through so much.

so he flicks that leaf out of shiro’s palm, the next breath closer to a scoff. ]

It’s just a little blood, Shiro. [ could be a lot more, he doesn’t know. still – ] Maybe this'll be enough. Let's try it first.

[ cupping his own hand now, he gives the wound a squeeze, watching the blood pool a little more in his palm. he grimaces but he’s not even looking at it anymore; instead, he’s turning and looking from one tree to another to another to – ]

You can help by figuring out where I’m supposed to… put this.

[terraria]

( silently, he touches down near sasuke. while he stares at the being before them, he finds his brows furrowing. this feels wrong. he takes a quick glance around. why aren't there any others? he'd heard screams. he'd heard harpies proclaiming they're dead.

why are they the only ones here when they came in here later? that doesn't make any sense. his feathers spread and tense, as if able to sense the danger lurking before them. the figure may look innocent, but aspen can already tell that he is anything but. he sucks in a breath sharply as it suddenly occurs to him, as if finally seeing through a mirage. )

A fae - here? ( he instinctively moves closer to sasuke. ) If you have no experience with fae, I'll go ahead and try to bargain with him. I have spoken to them several times before...

( he's not going to relay the fact that you shouldn't be making deals with the fae, but sasuke doesn't need to know that if he doesn't already. )

[terraria]

Then I can see eye-to-eye with you.

Did you want to touch more? ( he wriggles his wing a bit. ) You can, as long as you don't pull.

[pissoffbook]

[Kainé stalks low to the ground, serrated swords held at her sides. She pauses before a corner, edging out just enough to peek.

She's not sure how the 'prey' will be marked, but she's supposed to know when she finds it.

Sensing... something just as the Shade inhabiting her body speaks up, Kainé tenses.

I don't like this, Sunshine. Something feels different about the shadows.]

Are you scared, chicken-shit?

[Kainé taunts the Shade as she continues along, her back to the maze wall as she listens and looks for any sign of movement. Hunting is nothing new to her, she's hunted for food as well as to kill Shades. Her vision is sharp in the dark, which helps her out in the shadowy maze.

Wait, was that movement? Kainé flattens herself against a stack of hay bales and waits.]

[damnpire]

[His hand rises as the wing moves, like he's worried it'll pull from that alone. He opens his mouth, maybe to refuse by the twist of his brows, but something wrestles with stopping him.

He pauses, frowning. Against better judgement, he says,] Yes. [He rests the hand on the wing again momentarily.]

SAME weeps... but I live in eternal wait for s2 to see what happens!!

[zauneyete]

[ Silco watched the whole thing with careful consideration, his half-unblinking gaze stared at the blade from the girl, the beast on the horse, and he carefully kept to the edges of the lingering crowd, not quite dipping back and into the shadows, but also not out in the middle of it.

He wasn't about to get hurt, after all, however... this girl was strong -- and she'd saved him -- which at least garnered a conversation. The why, who she was, what kind of power she had. Silco wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. ]

Yes. It would hardly be polite to let you fight that Thing, and scamper back into the shadows.

[ He said it, with a wry twist in his tone, the tip of his head, and curl of his lip, into a half-smile. With his scar, it looked twisted. ]

Don't worry, I wasn't about to waste your efforts by running back into the middle of it all.

[zauneyete]

[ In the shadows of the "amusement park" -- what the locals called it -- but there weren't people about, and it made it... better. Silco could step silently in between the rides and attractions, and slip past, unseen by the few people taking shortcuts through. He's silent, happy to have the silence, away from all of the people --

His silence is broken by sobs -- young, it sounds, and while Silco had been about to leave... even drug running crime bosses have something that resembles a heart in that pitch black center that one would call a heart. It's not really much, faint and small, but he could at least pass by, maybe direct someone that way, if needed. He was cruel, but didn't really favor undue suffering.

His steps came close to Asa, and he watched her shake her head at...something. Thin air? (It's not a motion he's unused to...) His lips parted, slightly, before he stepped forward, a little closer. ]

Hello. [ A pause, before: ] What's happened here?

[ She looked a mess, didn't she? It reminded him of his own daughter, when she'd been younger, covered in explosions, or colors, before she'd learned to control her gadgets. ]