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INHUMAN COURTESY

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror

The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.

It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:

► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.

► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.

if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured

II. DO NOT PASS GO

cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity

Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.

If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.

When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.

► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!

Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.

III. TO THE RESCUE

As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.

The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.

The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”

Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”

It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.

so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!

ooc note

► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!

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[ zagreus zips past sylvain fast enough that he doesn't fully register him until the aftermath of the collision, the familiar splash of red fabric and glowing laurels resolving in his line of vision. (it's been a while since they've last met, some weeks ago when they'd spent a day fishing and hunting game—but even so he's unmistakeable. maybe all demigods are?)

sylvain immediately jogs up to him to investigate, stooping to the ground to retrieve the scattered books. zagreus... doesn't look to be in the best shape, though sylvain opts not to point it out to him just yet. (it's likely he already knows.) ]

You're just gonna pass me like that without saying hi? [ he's kidding. though he is curious to know, ] What's the rush?

[ sylvain's never moved that fast in his life before except when trying to dodge a jilted lover... does this library charge insane late fees?

he offers zag's cargo back to him—but for only a moment before he takes the books back, noting that the other's hands are now coated in flowers and spittle. ]

On second thought, best I hang onto these for a bit...

[Zagreus is surprised and slightly embarrassed at being caught hacking a lung out; he shakes his head, brow knotted even if his lips wish to draw a smile in between the coughing. Covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow when he coughs some more, he raises one finger to ask Sylvain to wait and then takes a deep, loud breath, tilting his head back as if the position would help him take the air in better.

With a sigh, he wipes his hands on the clothes on his hips.] Ah, Sylvain, apologies, I didn't see you there. How are you? [He holds his hand up, sheepish, and flicks off yet petals from his forearm.] Would you mind holding on to those until I find somewhere to clean this? Though, I'm not sure where a fountain would be around here.

[ sylvain obliges him, shifting from foot to foot in an easygoing rhythm as poor zagreus empties his lungs of petals. (despite the seemingly blithe attitude, he is rather concerned...) ]

Me? I'm peachy. [ you know, not currently beset by some mysterious plant disease with a yet unknown cure.. ]

No problem, but you sure you don't wanna sit down somewhere for a bit?

[ he hopes?? zagreus isn't just gonna just try to walk all that off?? ]

Oh, good. That's good. [He's glad that at least Sylvain isn't really ailing from all of this, with the flowers and all. He's not sure why he's like this, really. It suddenly started with a slight itch, and now he sometimes has trouble catching his breath. Perhaps this is a test, where one would have to go through the same affliction as Chiron—forever living and eternally in pain.

Zagreus hopes not. He shakes some of the petals out, somehow sticking everywhere, from the folds of his chiton to his arms.] I'm sure I'll be fine, mate. [He always is. He makes to start walking again, though he pauses to clear his throat. Right.] Shall we go?

Oh, buddy. I think you're making it worse.

[ sylvain's procures a handkerchief with one hand (the other arm still wrapped around the books), and tries to (tactfully!) wipe a few of the petals off. then just hands the scrap of fabric to zagreus entirely. but he should definitely still wash his hands somewhere.

they can chat as they walk, at least. ]

How long's it been for you...?

[ the cough. zagreus seemed to be in fine health the month prior, and of course, sylvain's seen others in a very similar state of suffering. (he wonders if he'll eventually start hacking up flowers himself. he has felt a tickle in his throat at times, the occasional pinch in his lungs, but nothing nearly as dramatic as this. definitely nothing as distinguishable as plant matter. what makes them so different...?) ]

Thank you. [He appreciates the gesture nonetheless, taking the square in his hands and handling it with the care of something very valuable. He does take care of every keepsake and companion he's given, after all, and this is no different.

Even if the effect, for now, is to somehow help him clean off blooms. Well.

As they walk around searching for a water point, a fountain, something, Zagreus does rub at his throat absently. When did it start, anyway? And it's not like time and daylight are a thing that is well-defined in this place, either.]

Not long, I believe. [He uses the handkerchief to cover his mouth as he clears his throat again.] It seems to get worse when I don't have anything to do, though.

[ DAPPER HANDKERCHIEF
A handkerchief adorned with refined embroidery. Appreciated by fashionable men. Gain +5% style when equipped.

From Sylvain. ]

It gets worse with rest?

[ he immediately raises an incredulous brow. he's heard some talk around the city and merchant stalls regarding this lingering "harvest's curse"—apparently not the first time it's been seen around these parts. and he'd thought most of the chatter sounded like hogwash, but...

...maybe there's a grain of truth to it? (maybe he should listen to his local npcs who know more about this place than he does?) ]

...Can I ask what's been on your mind?

[ sylvain talking to this guy like twice and already prepared to armchair, ig that's an accurate femblem support ]

[Welp say goodbye to your DAPPER HANDKERCHIEF™, then, Sylvain; if he's Keepsaking it then he won't let go of it.

But he will save it in a fancy glass case somewhere at his place, for sure.]

Not… quite…? [Says the restless Restless that is this godling. He tilts his head back thinking about why being unoccupied would mean the problem worsening.] It's more like, the busier I am, the less time I have to think.

[The tilting didn't help, though. He cants his head down right after, clears his throat again, hoping it doesn't draw blood this time.

It's a good thing, too, that Zagreus has very little trouble sharing his feelings with someone he deems relatively trustworthy. As though no one could harness them and use them against him.] Well, I guess I've been missing my friends a lot. After a while, you start wondering how they are. Why do you ask?

[ byleth probably gifted him that but it's okay, it can now be zag's. look forward to seeing it alongside whatever cool trinkets zagreus has/will amass along his netherworld journey. :')

anywho, sylvain nods and hums in consideration. ] Yeah, of course. It's natural to be homesick.

[ but from what he's heard, this illness seems to take root in feelings a step beyond that. or rather... —he pauses for a tenuous moment as zagreus clears his throat. ]

...Ah, just that I've heard these symptoms have something to do with emotions. The stronger the sentiment, the worse the effects.

[ now that he's said this, he has to consider—will this line of questioning exacerbate zagreus' condition...? sylvain is curious to identify the root cause, but has to remind himself a diagnosis may very well just cause more trouble for the patient in question. he should tread carefully. ]

Could just be old wives' tale. [ wait, no, that's just veering back to denial. ] ...Could also be true. [ nailed it. ]

[Sorry, Byleth!

Zag points at a fountain in the middle of the street they turn the corner into, his tainted mouth parting and taking a breath before he says something, lest he spews more flora into the floor.] There. We can go there.

[Thankfully, the fountain has a wide enough brim for him to sit, and the water seems pure enough to wash the blood and petals off his hand and mouth. He waits for the soothing effects of the fountains back home but doesn't mind when the water merely cools his already warm throat instead, providing some relief.

He frowns, a rare sighting to him when he's not dealing with the political dances and happenings inside the House of Hades or the whims of his Father and beings. Zagreus somehow feels this could be it. After all, for many, isn't he also a tale for many old wives? ] So, it could be because of what we feel... when we think of them?

[It really dawns on him fast. He's a quick learner, after all. The little crease between his eyebrows loosens to something a bit more concerned.] Oh. Oh.

[ he takes a seat along the edge of the fountain as well, watching curiously as blood and petals run off into the clear water. it almost feels like watching someone trying to hide a secret, and he oddly feels a little guilty for it.

(at the same time, an entirely irrational spark of jealousy stirs, whether it's the pale moon or his shadow at work—wouldn't it be nice to know what it's like? the pain of something real for once?)

his own brow furrows, expression troubled for a moment as he silently bats away the intrusive thought. it eases back into an apologetic smile as sylvain blinks up at the godling once more.

seems like zagreus has discovered the source of his present affliction. ]

Something come to mind?

[ the emphatic oh can only mean so many things... ]

[With a sigh, Zagreus tries to catch his breath, his fingers folding the DAPPER HANDKERCHIEF™ neatly onto itself, tucking it in the folds of his chiton. To suffer from an ailment because of feelings, out of everything, seems just so silly and superficial. There are people who died here; they're all supposedly dead. Shouldn't the afterlife be about learning about your misgivings and what you could have done in the limited time you had on the surface and then having infinite time to reflect upon them? Start anew?

It's troublesome. Oh, so troublesome.

Such is the terror of Aphrodite's domain. Where did he hear that before? His expression turns slightly sheepish.] Did you know that where I come from, you have seven words to refer to love?

[ it is rather troublesome, if not an outright inconvenience, to be burdened by something as fickle as feelings. the afterlife seems less a gloomy reprieve and more an active punishment the longer they're here.

he may be mostly audience to these symptoms at present, but if divinity can't grant zagreus immunity, sylvain can only assume he'll eventually meet the same fate. (not to say the gods do not experience emotions of their own, but isn't this sort of anguish usually seen as a human affliction?)

he hums curiously. ]

Seven, huh. Not sure if that's a lot or a little.

[ his smile turns a touch rueful. love is... certainly a paradox. ]

What are they?

[Zagreus looks up. He could begin to tell Sylvain that if anything, the Gods of his world are no less than people who happen to have in their core very powerful toys and the lack of wisdom or excess of hubris to not know when to stay put with them. It all begins with three brothers and their kin slaughtering their predecessors, cutting them to bits and scattering them across seas and rivers, very sexy bulls, and people being turned into trees.

But if anything, he'd tell him that immortality has only granted him the ability to feel more than to be rendered insensible.]

There's Eros, whose reputation, I believe, precedes him. [A slight twitch of his lips.] Philia, of connection, friendship, could be a business partnership to what you feel towards your brother in arms. Agape, altruistic. Storge, of family. Mania, obsession. Ludus: meriment. And Pragma, long-lasting.

[A sigh. He actually does a double-take there, as though remembering something.] There's also Philautia, from Philia, which is aimed at the self instead of another. [He tries to stifle a cough again. Cups his hand to drink some water from the fountain.] Do any of these ring a bell?

[ fódlan world 'myth' is far more austere in comparison, moreover manipulated by the central church to keep humanity under its thumb. there is sothis, the progenitor god, and her saint, seiros, who brought light to the land and to the pure of heart. there are the ten elites, the first crestbearers and the origins of the noble houses—including gautier. in his homeland, there is much to be said about lineage and valor, but little on love—certainly not to the extent which zagreus describes to him.

but the concepts, given verbal form, are not unfamiliar. a universal language, it seems. ]

A few. Philia, for my friends here and back home. Ludus, for good times even in death... Eros I presume for a pretty face, now and then.

[ (lust is a very familiar notion, yes.) he sets the books in his lap, drumming the topmost cover idly. he doesn't speak of family, or lasting romantic relationships, or even self-love. ]

...Which is it for you?

[ it's gotta be a lover, sylvain thinks. zagreus just has that air about him of youthful charm. and he's thoughtful to boot, earnest in a way that reminds him a little bit of dimitri. ]

[Ah. It doesn't really escape him; Sylvain slips the other concepts away like one would ruffle through a bag and set the unnecessary things aside. Yet, Zagreus makes no mention of it, part of it because of his own mere tendency not to pry too much all at once, and another part because he's,

well, if he's flushed it's obviously because of the cough and whatever fever he's harboring right now, ok?]

A little bit of all of them? Know it's a little hard to believe. [A clear of his throat.] Harder to explain, still.

Nah, I believe you. Popular guy, huh?

[ (or maybe unpopular, if he's suffering from unrequited affection? sylvain's still not quite sure how this is supposed to work.) he smiles, a touch apologetic again. he just hopes whatever this is won't actually end up killing zagreus... ]

...There are a few potion-makers around the city who might have temporary remedies.

[ he'll list off a few in the marketplace he remember peddling their tonics and tinctures. maybe one of them will at least slow the growth of whatever strange flora has taken root in his chest. ]

Anything I can help you with, in the meantime...?

[ ferrying books is easy, and so's listening—if there's more zag wants to get off his chest that isn't bloodied petals. ]

Not quite. [Just because he feels a lot for people doesn't mean they necessarily reciprocate. Still, the smile he sends Sylvain is somewhat self-conscious, as though he's aware that he should, perhaps, not be so smitten by so many people all at once.]

Do you think they would help...? [He cups some more of that water, drinking it to douse the copper taste from his mouth. It doesn't help that much.] I don't suppose you have any remedies for getting over people who aren't even around, do you?

[Not that he knows if he wants to get over them, but perhaps it would help him somewhat momentarily.]

[ well... it's not like you can really stop yourself from falling in love, either. sylvain doesn't think anyone should be blamed, much less punished for those sorts of feelings... ]

At this point, it couldn't hurt?

[ not the most useful answer, but an honest one. zagreus may as well try a potion or three to soothe his throat, which must be ragged by now. (......he wonders it they'll eventually need to start corresponding strictly in text messages, to save him the additional strain......) ]

Funny enough, I think you're already doing what I would've tried.

[ he lifts up the books in his arms—constant distraction. but they can both see now that only goes so far... sylvain taps a hand to his chin. ]

...Is there anyone here you've connected with? Not saying you need to forget about those you cherish back home, but maybe it'll help to focus on a relationship here, if you can?

[ sylvain certainly hopes that there's mutual interest somewhere... or else this would all be way too tragic... 😢 ]

Not any more than it already does. [He chuckles, despite the pain, with a rough voice. It's good that he's usually soft-spoken and not at all loud, despite his impetuous appearance. ] Would you tell me where I can find them?

[With a sigh towards the patted books, he shakes his head.] I need to deliver those to the library, please don't let me forget that.

[Although he starts. Starting a relationship with anyone here?] As in, the 'soulmate' thing I've heard about here and there, or…?

[If that doesn't make it clear that Zagreus hadn't even looked at anyone and considered them in that regard, then probably the fact that he looks somewhat bashful about it does. ]

Yeah, of course. [ he pulls out his own phone to fire zagreus a brief list of vendors he'd seen—or at least the best approximation of their locations. Near the baker at the end of the main street—The particularly loud one with the huge yellow sign, you can't miss them—etc. ]

And I'll do you one better, I'll walk you and your books over to the library.

[ (...partly to make sure zag doesn't keel over in a bloody pool of flowers...)

—it's sylvain's turn to look surprised. NO soulmate? NO romantic interest? MY BRO? maybe he just needs more time to move on... (sylvain voice: have u considered a rebound? sylvain voice: what about speed dating before the flowers take over?) ]

A soulmate, or even a lover. Maybe your 'other half' is here.

[ throwback to soulidarity ayyyy ]

[Blinking once and his eyebrows arching at the sudden pings on his phone, he fishes it out from a swaddle from within the folds of his chiton. He smiles, wiggles the device with a 'ah, thank you,' and burritos it back into the fabric before tucking it in. Don't ask how he actually manages to carry stuff around without pockets. Apparently, it works.

And he does feel slightly touched. Sylvain volunteering to go with him is much more than he's used to people doing for him, so he actually coughs a little bit more out of gratitude than anything else.] I really appreciate it, mate. Thanks.

[He looks down, averting his gaze in a slightly rare moment of shyness where Zag looks a little doubtful.] I'm not sure if that will be so easy. It's not just the one person I need to, uh, distract myself from.

[Him suddenly realizing that perhaps this is frowned upon by mortals? It could even be frowned upon by immortals, too. He can't help the wince on his face.]

[ demigods can do whatever they want with their chitons... 😌 (though it would be a lie to say sylvain isn't watching all that and baffled how zagreus doesn't scatter and lose his entire inventory each time he performs a dash, like a bird taking flight and shedding loose feathers.)

also, very amazed at the concept of polygamy, which is highly frowned upon in fantasy-catholic Faerghus! (seems that demigods can do whatever they want with their relationships too...)

—Oh. [ wow. he supposes it's not unheard of, but he'd admittedly projected the conservative values of his home on zag this entire time. ] ...How many are we talking?

[ DARE HE EVEN ASK? did they all know and were they all okay with it??? he doesn't want to pry too much out of consideration for zagreus, but he's insanely curious. (and also increasingly worried. this seems like pretty bad news—no wonder he's doing so poorly against the hanahaki.) ]

[Just. Hammerspace somewhere between the fabric and Zagreus' nips or something. 👀

The wince deepens. In a very small voice, looking the sheepiest he's ever looked yet.] Three…?

[To be fair, he has been rejected by one of them, albeit he still harbors feelings of care and affection for Dusa. Later, Zagreus does ask around before anything gets too deep between Megaera and Thanatos, but that has yet to happen in his timeline.

Zag had been left with a 'I need to think about this' from Meg when he confessed that he still has feelings for her, and only more questions when a very awkward Than burst away from sight with a bottle of Ambrosia.

So, really? Would it matter?] Not that I was seeing them at all, so... [He covers his mouth again. Only chlorophyll stains his palate this time, which is a blessing.]

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Stage two!

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laughing every time i see the bold text, thank u

gotta respect the brand

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