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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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The loud scuffle is nothing more than utilizing the fact that armored guards move slower in smaller and narrower spaces, and at the lack of a weapon, the walls work just as well.

So with a shove with the last guard, Zagreus picks up what he hopes are cell keys and runs around the corner, eyes moving straight to Fukawa's cell. He quickly jogs over, skimming the adjacent cells, thankfully empty, and starts trying different keys fast. ] Are you alright?

[In spite of the long days and dismal nights, the first sign of hope lights a fire under her ass that could take down the Amazon. Maybe that's why she'd been too busy screeching to clock who has come to save the day.]

I'm — I'm...

[She doesn't recognize him. Fukawa's eyes flick from the flurry of keys to his face, so seamless in its symmetry it might have been chipped from marble. Then there was the barely there coverings, the laurels at his temple. If she didn't know better, she'd ask if he were related to Puck.

As if that guy would ever throw her a bone. Not after what Syo did.]

I...I'm fine. [Her hands are slipping down the bars. Wow, it's really not the time but her palms are suddenly so sweaty? This better not be a dream.] It's that one! Th-the one with the rounded head!

[She points through the bars at the correct key. She's only studied it wistfully a hundred times.]

Who are you? Wh-why are you here?

[Once again, she has no idea who he is. And it's not like she's famous around here. She doubts anyone but Lottie would raise an alarm for her sorry ass.]

I'm here to help—Ah, thank you. [He slots the key in the lock and

Moment of truth...

It unravels Zagreus smiles, opening the door straight away.] We did it! Now to do your shackles.

[He gets in the cell, his feet and his laurels flaring some light into the dim room, and he gets on one knee and offers a hand so that Fukawa can move her feet closer.] May I? My name is Zagreus, by the way.

[There's a breathless "Ha,", the release of the lock freeing the deeper chambers of her lungs. It's really happening. He's here to get her out.]

Thank you! [It nearly comes out as one word. She scuttles back as he opens the door, mesmerized by the glint of light off the laurels. Then he gets on one knee?

A PROPOSITION?!

God no, your shackles! Be sensible, you fucking dolt!

Fukawa's still trembling, the adrenaline rush isn't so easily abated. And they must work quickly. She settles on the floor before him and blushes as she raises a foot (filthy, filthy, filthy, why would you make anyone touch your disgusting jail feet?!), swallowing a thick lump of nothing before she speaks.]

I'm F-Fukawa. Aheh. [Slight pause.] Did you say Zagreus?

[Trying several keys once again—it has to be one of the smaller ones, right? Only makes sense considering the dainty feet these shackles are around—he barely catches the pause, only nodding when he gets her name, repeating it for memory's sake.] Fukawa, I'll get you out of here soon, alright? Do you need water?

[The question finally registers, and he looks up at her.] The shackles unlatch. Uh, yes, I did.

[I have now been informed that his feet are magically on fire? Pretend she was too distracted by the bare nip before.]

I c-could use some — Oh my god!

[Good thing her feet are free now because his are in flames. Fukawa skitters back with a wheeze, forgetting all about the curious name in a rush for something to save his skin.

She snags a handful of damp rags (let us not question to whom these last belonged) and slaps them at his ankles.]

I got it! I g-got it! Hold still!

[Oh, no, not this again.

Zagreus should really wear a disclaimer: 'No, my feet or my hair aren't on fire.'

He winces, but more because of the spray in those wet rags as they're being swung around more than the fact that she's hitting them with heavy damp fabric, which stings like crazy.] Ah, no, my feet—Wait, they're like this. It's okay; they're not on fire!

[Wait...] Or rather, not harming me, I guess. I was born with these. My hair is the same, see? [He points at his laurels.]

What?

[The slapping does stop. She hasn't relinquished the rag yet, mind, but she is bouncing a befuddled stare between his face, his feet, and his laurels. The latter of which are plant shaped, but she'd attributed their shine to some frivolous magic, or a trick of the light. She'd been kind of focused on escape at the time. And how unnaturally good looking he is.

Her face rumples into a frown.]

Why? [She squints at his feet again. Because like, okay yes she has had to accept the existence of magic and other realities, fine. Whatever!! But for the most part things had followed a relative logic of functionality. What use is there having a flaming foot?] Is it to keep your feet dry? Or is it b-burning foot fungus away?

I take after my Father, I suppose. [He shakes his head. He knows it's odd, even within those chthonic, it's foreign, but Hades does have the same flaming feet, and at least it works as a space heater sometimes?

Not that he needs that, really; he's naturally a human furnace.] I don't think it serves a purpose; it just is.

Your Father's feet were also on fire? [That's, um. Not ideal. Also?] W-wouldn't your mother get burned...

[Okay okay, enough! We do not need this visual!

Fukawa shakes her head and finally chucks that rag aside. Well, as long as he's not going to burn her, she can let this nonsense slide. But you're walking on thin ice, buddy.]

N-nevermind. We just need to leave. This is no time for s-semantics. [Ignoring that she was the one harping about it. She rises to a stand and is made freshly aware of how her prison rag is little better than a baggy one-piece swim suit. She tugs at the edge of it to keep it down.]

Zacharius, was it? Wh-where do we go from here?

[She probably hadn't heard right before.]

[Definitely not the time nor the place, and Zag doesn't want to feel like talking about it, but not for the same reasons Fukawa is thinking.]

Ah, it's Zagreus. [He points out. Still, not too long to linger on it, and he doesn't mind the other name, in particular, he doesn't want her to call on him, and he doesn't realize it's him she's calling out.] Follow me, please. I'll take you out of here from where I came in.

[Hopefully the guards are still unconscious.]

Really? [She's following along, sure. Skittish wee steps pattering after his more confident stride, frail hands clutched to her chest. She stays just behind him both for cover and for the view. His shoulders, good god, this is...this place is rigged. Did they send all the average looking men to deeper level of Hell?

And for that matter, what's a Plain Jane like her doing waltzing around in their midst? Something's up.]

So, your p-parents must have been big m-mythology nerds.

'Nerds'? [Zagreus does look over his shoulder, voice a little hushed because yes, they're being sneaky, and no, he's not that great at it, but he'll try, anyway.] What are those?

[And yes, he'd totally agree with you, Fukawa. He's from Greek Myth and still, tens everywhere. Wowee.]

[Damn. If even the Olympians are thirsting this place must have a strict hotties only policy. Perhaps Fukawa would blend in better if she'd take a shower already.]

Huh? [Yes very sneaky, very hush hush, but also this merits a little befuddlement.] Are you b-being serious? This better not be a joke.

[Then again, consider this toga. She purses her lips and decides to take pity on him.]

It's s-someone who has such a deep knowledge on a topic it becomes embarrassing. [Okay maybe not that merciful.] "Zagreus" was one of the gods worshipped by certain sects of ancient G-Greeks, often conflated with Dionysus. Sometimes he was considered the first Dionysus, having been torn apart by the T-Titans and then reborn. It's debated whether his father was Zeus or Hades, b-but his mother was undeniably Persephone.

[Fukawa is so cute, though? Her glossy hair? Her big, expressive eyes? Pls.

Zagreus does have the humbleness to him to actually look sheepish about not knowing. Those who do call him a dumbass at home tended to call him things like a 'deadbeat', instead, so he doesn't know a lot of these terms yet.

Although, he does grimace, runs a hand over his face as though wondering what the heck he has done.] Oh, that Orpheus. That was supposed to be a joke between Dionysus and me, and he still believed me.

[With a sigh, he shakes his head, feet padding over the smooth stone floor.] That was a prank that went too far; I can't believe it spread so wildly. In any case, we're both different people, Dionysus and I. I apologize if you've heard differently, it's my fault.

[😳😳!!! Mistah Zagreus!! Alas, she ICly believes she is the ugliest woman alive and canon does little to dissuade her. C'est la vie.

This time her footfall stops entirely. ~~Eurydice style~~]

What.

[Said flatly. Hardly even a question. She peers at him through a grim squint.

Sure, there is his flaming feet, the laurels, his general attire. But that doesn't mean anything. Accepting the existence of magic does not extend to tolerating absolute fucking poppycock.]

Q-quit messing around. None of that is real.

[Time for fandom works like RP to take care of that, amirite.

Zag does a double-take. He almost has a mind to think he shouldn't look back at his jail break companion, but he does anyway.

He looks sheepish. This is really not the time nor place or a mythology (or... well, family history) discussion, so he only grimaces apologetically.] I'm unsure what else I can say to prove it to you, considering you already tried to douse my feet.

There's nothing to prove. [As if that weren't obvious? Fukawa's hands set stubbornly on her hips.] Just because crap like headless horsemen and shitty sprites are wandering around d-doesn't mean people will buy any old line you feed them. And you didn't even p-pick anyone impressive to impersonate!

[She scoffs, as if it were the most egregious offense.]

Or d-did you count on no one remembering who Zagreus was? I guess that way you could g-get away with this stupid cosplay, and most idiots would be none the wiser.

[Zagreus frowns, but not for the reasons Fukawa is probably expecting.

It's not about the accusation that he's trying to fool people by impersonating some mythological being. Or that he's unimpressive.] What's 'cosplay'?

[He shrugs, looks around a corner.] I'm surprised my name reached mortals' ears at all. [He beckons her closer.] Come along, the coast is clear.

[She gives him a truly withering look. Forests have been felled under duller blades than this stare.]

It's when n-nerds blow all their money on dressing up as their "super cool" favourite characters.

[Anime is a blight, comic conventions are for the weak.

He's still not giving up the gag, and she's only reminded to shut up when he tells her the coast is clear. Right! This is a prison! It's their Great Escape! And so Fukawa must swallow back the mighty grumble she yearns to give and trail along in his shadow.

They enter the hall on swift feet, and Fukawa's eyes dart this way and that. The creaks of old stone all sound like the footfalls of guards, and every far off scream has cinched right next to her ear. But he is right, they're in the clear. How much longer can this good luck keep up?]

All right, [She whispers, though she doesn't sound happy about it.] I'll b-bite. Why wouldn't your name reach mortal ears?

[Nerds spend money dressing up as their favorite characters.]

Oh, like the ones we saw in the parade, was it? [He knows that reference now! Surely it has to be related, right? He found the kids mostly adorable, even if he didn't know who they were dressed up as.

Leading her through the damp halls, he finally perks up and guides her through a smaller hallway with a big hole in the middle of the floor. He jumps in.] This is where I came in from.

[He reaches for Fukawa's hands to help her jump down, looking up.] Easy, now. Would you give me your hands?

[To the question, he merely shrugs.] I don't feel my tale is anything worth telling. [Sure, he fought a Hydra, challenged the Exalted Heroes of Elysium, and defeated Hades himself in combat a couple of times, but in the end…

He's there. Stuck. Again.] Trying to leave Hades and failing over and over isn't the most exciting of myths, is it?

I don't know. I d-didn't go. [Good thing too, she heard some weird shit went down over there.] I wouldn't put it past this place.

[Imagine taking part in a cosplay parade. Couldn't be her.

They appear to have reached an exit. Fukawa picks up the pace and peers in, her face lighting up.

Then it dims upon finding an actual hole.]

S-seriously? [Did he fucking dig his way here like Bugs Bunny? Of all the inanities, this is the most — oh gross ew ew ew, there had better not be weird bugs down there! She grimaces as he hops down but takes his hands when offered, emitting a low, keening whine like a dog.] I hate this, Ihatethis, Ihatethis.

[Oof. It looks dark down here. She hunches up and hugs at her arms, eyes darting left and right.]

So, n-not only did you pick an underwhelming god, you picked an underwhelming story too? What's wrong with you? [This is so disappointing. How is anyone this hot such a total waste of space?] At least you're m-making yourself useful now...

I'm sorry. [Even though he has nothing to apologize for. Zagreus is sorry that there's no other way in and out of the fortress, so he obviously can't do anything about it if Fukawa isn't used to walking around in the dirt. He's sorry that she has to go through with it, at least.] It's a short walk, I promise.

[It actually is, and his flaming feet and laurels stand out in the tunnel's darkness but provide some source of lighting.

His lip twitches just a bit, the girl's words hitting very close to home. 'See, Boy?' He takes a deep breath, and remembers the scent of the earth when it hits his senses, damp and crude, all about it aiming low, lower. It's new; even in this new underworld, it's something that exists. He wonders why.] Is that something that matters in your world? Which story you pick?

Guuuh, I h-hope so. I can't stand the dark. [Please take her back to Weenie Hut Jrs.

Really though, it's worse than trying to navigate the busted subway and sewers of Towa City. First of all, she's practically naked. Secondly, back there she had Komaru, and some sense of what might face them. She was armed, she was (sort of) prepared, and she had to show that sniveling wreck of a girl that even cowardice shouldn't stop you from fighting to survive.

Also, she's not keen to find out what magic beasts live underground. Caves and the sea, two of the worst categories of living creatures.]

Huh? H-how do you mean? For cosplay? [Her face rumples.] I wouldn't kn-know, I don't mess around with that crap. If you mean in real life, then...I'm not sure. I g-guess. Lots of people got by just floating along in mediocrity, b-but that's not a choice for anyone anymore. Most of those types are d-dead now. You can't survive if you just accept your circumstances blindly.

[She glances askance at him. Those flaming laurels are near hypnotic. He almost could be mistaken for a god. Maybe he's just...an egotistical wizard?

No, there's no explanation that isn't totally stupid.]

Though I'd say that's true of most places.

[Out of all of this, he doesn't really know why cosplay is such a big thing. Isn't it just dressing up as something else? Is there more to it? So many questions.

Yet, Zagreus knows that at least that discussion is distracting Fukawa from being too grossed out by the muddy tunnel they're walking through. There's a place where water drips, leaving a puddle, and Zag has a moment where he goes 'excuse me', walks further around the puddle and reaches his hands for Fukawa to take and jump around the drip and over the puddle with his help.] Here.

[Her way of explaining things would make sense, but he finds that he needs more context.

Not to mention that seems concerning. What happened to people living a normal, no-nonsense life?] How do you mean 'dead'? Did something happen?

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d.1. Overcooked chicken? Jail.

overcook, undercook

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how phone tags botch my html...

it happens to the best of us, grips you

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Pulling myth knowledge from Wikipedia, let me know if this is a canon clash/would cause Zag problems

the wonderful thing about Hades is that they thought about this <3

Ah perf, thank you writers

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Danganronpa Spoilers, sorry

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Good to close off on a few for the new log?

Yes!

<3

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