oblivium: (Default)
nightfell mods ([personal profile] oblivium) wrote in [community profile] logs2022-11-09 09:42 pm

(no subject)

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!

nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (i promised myself to treat myself)

kaito nagano | original

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-07 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
(( I absolutely LIED on plurk, here comes a top-level ))

A) DO NOT PASS GO.
[ It's chaos, and for once Kaito's Shadow has no room to complain. After getting word from Hibiki that she's been captured, he's been on an absolute tear.

First, information collecting through her eyes to get a lay of some of the gaol.

Second, infiltration.

Third, a lot of broken guards' noses. Wearing a black rag to conceal his face, Kaito's been darting from shadow to shadow within the prison, only engaging with guards when their backs are turned and he can guarantee a (relatively) quiet takedown. It's so akin to the stealth games his brother sucked at that he's not sure if he should laugh.

Eventually, it's someone else who initiates the chaos of a prison break, and Kaito is no longer beholden to playing Metal Gear Liquid. It's a straight shot to Hibiki, and once they've taken care of surrounding guards, they decide that the most sensible thing to do is to continue to press their luck and try to free other inmates.

And so, around the corner during a squabble, Kaito's dancing around a pair of armed guards. He's got one of their swords and is all but taunting them with acrobatics and the occasional swipe at the straps of their rapidly loosening armor. He catches the prisoner's glance, gestures one way with a shrug, then proceeds to advance on the guards and send them backpedaling in the opposite direction.

If it isn't obvious, he's creating an out for them. Whatcha gonna do, Restless? ]

B) WILDCARD.
(( I am being Boring and not having Kaito partake in the flower-coughing disease, but if you had any other ideas you wanted to play out, post here or PM me or whatever! I'm game if you are. ))
notpicky: (006)

Itadori Yuuji — Jujutsu Kaisen

[personal profile] notpicky 2022-11-07 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Adventures in Shadowland
( During his time exiting the undeniably way-too-spooky halls and caverns of Hale, Yuuji had managed to find out something interesting—and potentially really helpful, not just for himself, but for anyone who might end up with gnarly injuries. And if the whole thing with that headless guy is any indication, those kinds of injuries might be more common than he expected, even in quiet little places like Serene. Still, for now, his priority is as his friend (and, like, everyone else he'd heard whispering about it) suggested, which is to do anything and everything to get rid of this mark on his arm.

It's not that he doesn't think he deserves the scar. On the contrary, while he has little idea of the nuance of its distinction—that the idea is to brand violence done within Stygia and surrounding lands—the moment he'd been told it was for shedding blood he knew, beyond a doubt, that if anyone deserved such a mark it was him. The idea that he might have been suspected and punished in error never occurs to him after that. And his Shadow, naturally, agrees, recollecting alongside him all the times his hands have shed innocent blood and taken innocent lives as Yuuji makes the long, lonesome trek out to the Shadowlands in search of those weird crocodiles he'd seen skulking around when he arrived.

But, before seeking them out, he makes a pitstop to his Door, emerging with a black trash bag which he balls up into his pocket. It's noisier than he would like, but he also figures that he's likely to smell the things before they get close enough to attack, even if the noise of the plastic draws them in. And anyway, it's probably not nearly as distracting as the persistent hiccuping and coughing he's been doing lately, which is sure to draw attention from much more than just the crocodiles.

Whether you find him carefully pulling his door shut behind him, or out and about in the wastes, Yuuji will be wearing the same grim yet determined expression. He'll also look a little worse for the wear, with his sleeves pulled determinedly over his arms and clamped to his palms by his fingers, along with the occasional pink petal or red stamen stuck to his lips, or scattered every few feet behind him. )



network

text; un: itadori

has anyone taken any of the classes at the library?
I was thinking of checking out the gardening class

for...reasons


ooc

( Yuuji ultimately will not be attempting to rescue the prisoner, despite being wrongly accused and branded himself. Also very open to gaining a Soulmate or two, intentionally or deliberately, since he'll be out in the Shadowlands harvesting skin! (In the least creepy way possible.) Yuuji's Door leads to a hospital room, dead end corridor with a couple of other rooms, and a nurse's station (floor plan forthcoming). Happy to write a starter for that upon request, or receive a random one!

Yuuji also has a catch-all for notice board quests or general world exploration/cr-building here in case none of this tickles your fancy. )
notpicky: (012)

closed to shadowier

[personal profile] notpicky 2022-11-07 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
( By now the ache of his arm is little more than background noise, a warm pulse of pain like a headache that Yuuji is keen to but can't quite ignore. It isn't enough to complain about, not yet, but if Megumi chances to look at his face in the dim, ambient light of the corridor he'll notice not just a clenched jaw but a sheen of sweat that isn't all nerves. They could be swept up by a guard at any moment, and Yuuji does his best to grit through not just the tenderness of his arm or the rawness around his ankles as they steal away, as quickly and as discreetly as possible in what Yuuji can only hope is the right direction.

When they come upon ancient-looking stone doors, he pauses, glancing at his friend with uncertainty and maybe just a hint of fear. It abates only for a moment when Megumi, sharp-eyed as ever, ducks to dig through a large, wide bin tucked into an alcove by the doorway. He emerges with two...squares? )


Ah!

( The realization leaves his lips before he can stop it when Megumi turns on the flashlight of his phone, tossing the other to Yuuji. He catches it with a fumble, thanks only to his instincts and not at all to his attentiveness. And so, as well-equipped as they might hope to be without actually trying to take out a guard, they lean together into one of those stone doors until it grates open just enough for them to slip inside. Into a darkness so thick they can almost taste it, and which the pinpoints of their flashlights, for all they'd hoped, can barely cut through. )

Kinda feels familiar in a way, huh?

( If they can't brighten the tunnel, Yuuji might as well try to brighten the mood. Even if his own comment sends a different sort of pang through him, a clenching, sad emptiness as he misses their other classmate and remembers, vividly, the last time he saw her. )
sonofrome: (pic#16041028)

Do Not Pass go

[personal profile] sonofrome 2022-11-07 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Minutes click by in the Roman Centurion's cell until he hears noises. Ones of an escape. Now is his chance. Marius quickly smirks, taking on the guise of Damocles (as much as he can now.) He took some blood and rubbed it on his face and grabbed what he could of the guard's loosened armor and swords and the Centurion quickly acknowledged Kaito. With the new armor and sword, he could slip out without too much harm.

"Thank you."

Marius or should I say "Damocles" is already gone.
windsongs: (29)

you know why I'm here

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-11-07 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's both a blessing and a curse that she has an incredibly high pain tolerance, although the rap to the back of her head knocks her out completely. When she finally comes to, she can feel herself moving, and instead of fighting back against her captor as they take her further into the gaol, Hibiki lets her eyes open slightly. She can't see much through her lashes, but it's all about noting landmarks and distances. Twists and turns. Changes in sound.

Her head is pounding, her arm burns where it's branded, and as she is tossed like refuse into the cell, Hibiki has enough sense to try to control her fall. It still hurts like hell, and as she crumples in on herself, the small blonde takes a hissed breath through her teeth.

'Shit...'

Pain means nothing right now, she can deal with that later. Tangled and dirty tresses covering her face, Hibiki lays like that for a moment, forcing down a few very deep breaths. Stay calm. Don't get mad. She's terrified and pissed, but she needs to push all of that away. Drive it into the ground. Focus.

Y̸o̴u̸'̵v̸e̵ ̵g̵o̵t̶ ̴e̶v̶e̵r̷y̵ ̶r̵i̶g̶h̴t̸ ̸t̷o̴ ̸b̵e̸ ̸m̵a̵d̸.̶ ̵H̴e̵l̸l̶,̴ ̷ I̵'̷m̸ m̷a̵d̸ ̴f̸o̶r̵ ̴u̴s̷.̵

Go away. Not now. The last thing she wants is her shadow's sympathy. ]
gleichgewicht: (Default)

jugram haschwalth ➣ BLEACH

[personal profile] gleichgewicht 2022-11-08 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ some open and some closed starters to come below! plotting post here if you want to request something! ]
gleichgewicht: (it's gonna take you people years)

CLOSED ➣ for ichigo

[personal profile] gleichgewicht 2022-11-08 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jugram's head pounds before he's even opened his eyes. The ground is hard and cool against his cheek, his curled fingers. He lets out a quiet groan in the split second before he remembers himself, who he is, who he's supposed to be, even here, a primitive response to the throbbing pain before any higher functioning has the time to take over. Ice blue eyes crack open and squint at the blurred image directly ahead of him as their lenses struggle to flex into focus: someone's hand, also limp on the floor a few feet away from his face.

Behind that, bars.

That's right. The prison. Someone must have hit him across the back of the head on the way here. There's a hard, cold weight on both of his ankles: even without looking he knows they must be in shackles, and furthermore, he can't sense any reiatsu, at all—something about either this place or the cuffs themselves must have put a damper on his innate abilities as a quincy. Lovely.

Jugram pushes himself up with both hands, pain hammering at his temples, hair thoroughly disheveled—and, once he's upright, the full figure of the prisoner face-down beside him comes into view: carrot red hair. That and the prisoner's general build are to enough to identify his cellmate, without a shred of doubt, as Ichigo Kurosaki. Of all of the prisoners.

He considers waking the kid up, but decides against it—there will be racket from the moment he does, undoubtedly, and he'd like a few minutes to examine his confines without distraction. He moves carefully, to avoid the drag of the chain between his ankles from bringing Kurosaki back into consciousness, and considers the bars, the way the lock seems to work—a basic, mechanical key and slot, it would seem—how many guards and where they're posted. People are screaming down the hall—there's a torture chamber somewhere close, it would seem.

The drag of chains against the floor alerts him to the movement of Kurosaki's legs as he wakes; Jugram looks down at him from where he stands before the door to their enclosure and frowns. ]


You're awake.
Edited 2022-11-08 00:58 (UTC)
zangetsu: (pic#15912484)

cw: branding, injury mention (fingernail grossness)

[personal profile] zangetsu 2022-11-08 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
he is no stranger to getting his ass well and truly kicked, nor to fighting like his life depends on it — it often has, in the past. but no amount of giving the guards hell changes his fate. held down, branded, thrown in jail.

he's awake for a while before he moves, mostly because one leg is sort of twisted weirdly beneath the other one and it's uncomfortable where his knee is pressed to the cold stone floor. the voice makes him grimace, dragging a hand up to his head where he presses against the throb of a swollen knot.


Thanks, Captain Obvious.

this child has no respect.

he pulls himself upright, sitting with his legs crossed so there's the least amount of strain on those shackles. the brand, pressed into his arm with a sizzle of flesh, gets a look but not much else in the way of reaction, and then he lifts a hand up and starts tearing a broken fingernail the rest of the way off with his teeth.

it's going to annoy the hell out of him otherwise.


How long've you been awake?
midway: (188)

a-ish!

[personal profile] midway 2022-11-08 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
[ Claude really had been taking it too easy since dying, apparently. (Is it really his fault? So much of his energy is dedicated to earning money to eat terrible food while living in a terrible house. He's really supposed to find the energy to keep up with his training after all that? He barely even has a functional bow.) It's not immediately obvious; he keeps up with the infiltration effort, quick and stealthy, and when everything erupts into chaos, he does an okay job of keeping a cool head.

He's armed with a stolen knife instead of a bow, and later an axe that he manages to stumble across and steal, and things seem to be going well. Guards are falling and people are escaping, enough so that it doesn't feel like a loss when more and more guards eventually start to flood the scene.

Claude's not above making his exit. But first, there's still a prisoner struggling to escape from the grasp of a particularly burly guard. The stature doesn't intimidate him, speedy and clever, but that doesn't stop him from accounting for the wrong variables.

His axe slices into the guard's thigh, cutting away the cartilage and muscle that would keep him standing. At the same time, another guard that he hadn't noticed charges forward from the dark, and in a second his spear wicked and bloody when it runs the prisoner through. Claude's not sure if it's the smell of blood or the scream that alerts his attention first, but the shock is apparent on his face when he jerks back toward the prisoner, his gaze catching on Kaito as he turns.

Claude's axe whips through the air in that same movement, the razor edge ripping through armour and bone to lodge in the guard's chest, but Claude keeps his attention on the prisoner, now on the ground. ]


She's alive!
gleichgewicht: still getting icons together. putting on mascara in a moving vehicle over here (one of these days these boots)

[personal profile] gleichgewicht 2022-11-08 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ Does it matter? ]

A few minutes. [ Jugram answers impassively, as though he hasn't just been thrown into a jail cell less than twenty-four hours after dying before he was supposed to die. ]

Long enough to get my bearings here. There's a mechanism that completely inhibits any use of reishi here—you won't have any luck if you try to strike me, so don't waste your time.

[ Because, for all he knows, that's where Kurosaki's mind is headed - there was a very different balance of power involved in their last interaction. ]
orobashi: (20)

[personal profile] orobashi 2022-11-08 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
Kokomi would say very simply that the life of every creature matters (even if they are already "dead"), and that she always tries to save as many lives as she can while planning her strategies, no matter which side of the battlefield they might be on. Also probably something about going over the potential outcomes in her head, the outrageous number of them (in the hundreds) and deciding that the risk was worth it.
prozaic: (Default)

[personal profile] prozaic 2022-11-08 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
Shalem would say that he, too, is a sinner, and that crimes are meant to be punished with fair and proper judgement, not torture-- and what the guards did to the man is definitely torture. He'd definitely help patch him up best he can, and will not flinch when the prisoner stares at him. lbr he'd just smile and say "if it stings, we know we're alive" like it's a joke bc they're dead.

(he has some doubts about that tho...........)

He also would not kill the guard, just chain him.
zangetsu: (pic#15926143)

[personal profile] zangetsu 2022-11-08 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
world's worst hangnail taken care of and only faintly bleeding, ichigo sits with his hands resting lightly on his knees. jugram gets an annoyed look, and ichigo blows out a breath of pure exasperation.

Turns out I actually have zero interest in kicking your ass right now.

'duh'. ah, the eloquence of teenage distaste.

their world, their war, is far away. what good would it do him to perpetuate that violence here? he'll defend himself, but he has no interest in starting a fight.


Our first priority is getting out of here, not trying to kill each other.

it hasn't exactly escaped his attention that jugram could've done just that while he was insensible on the floor. the fact that he didn't... that's telling in and of itself.

Have any of the guards come by yet?
unalign: (Default)

[personal profile] unalign 2022-11-08 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
Lumine will simply say that she was just passing by and doesn't believe in pointless, mindless torture, even for those who committed a crime. Everyone's done something bad at least once in their life, including her.

Besides, if he's truly a horrible person, then all she has to do is stop him.
nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (▶ memories of daily life)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-08 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ 'It would be so easy to snip their jugulars.'

He's glad Hibiki can't hear that particular thought, and his Shadow is even happier. Fighting for his life does wonders to loosen Kaito's ironclad control over his impulses, and it definitely doesn't help that:

A) Claude is ripping through guards left and right,
and B) One of the assholes gores another Restless through her chest.

G̵i̶v̵e̶ ̷m̸e̷ ̴t̶w̸o̵ ̴s̷e̴c̷o̸n̵d̶s̶ ̶w̴i̴t̵h̶ ̴'̷e̷m̸.̵ ̴I̵'̸l̶l̵ ̷e̴v̷e̶n̴ ̶p̵l̴a̶y̶ ̶y̶o̸u̶r̷ ̴g̴a̸m̴e̸ ̴a̴n̴d̴ ̵g̵o̵ ̷f̸o̶r̶ ̶t̸h̵e̶ ̴d̶i̵s̶a̴b̷l̷e̴.̷

During the heat of the moment, Kaito merely nods. In a flash, he crosses the gap, blade dancing across the exposed skin of the guards' arms. Arteries remain intact, but their muscles and tendons are cleanly severed. The muscles on their legs are next to be lacerated. His Shadow's brutal, flawless execution is over in a blink, and the empath takes control back in time to plant his heel into his enemies' chests and knock them over.

Tucking his sword behind him, Kaito finally rushes over to the skewered woman, biting back his grimace and the cold fury that his Shadow considers goading. Sharp golds flick to Claude. ]


Barely. The fact that she's breathing at all means the spear just missed her vitals. But she can't be moved like this. [ A glance to the bloody weapon. ] ...We have to shorten the haft, or any movements she makes might cause it to jerk around.

[ Finally, with the guards' blood staining his face and gear, Kaito turns his attention to the other prisoner. The intense stare he'd shot to his impromptu companion softens considerably, and he reaches to slip her hand in both of his. ]

Stay with us. We can get you out of here alive—you can make it, but this is going to hurt. [ Kaito pulls out... a small diary? Some gauze, too—he wraps that around the book. Finally, what looks to be a serrated knife. It wasn't meant for woodworking, but it'll have to do. The wrapped journal is held near the woman's face. ]

I need you to bite down on this as hard as you can. Don't let it go, no matter what. Can you do that for me?
Edited (english hard words bad me dum) 2022-11-08 06:21 (UTC)
nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (▶ flip the switch flip the stove)

"go to sleep sagi" "ok *posts*"

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-08 08:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ Although he's by far the one more accustomed to sharing senses, it's still jarring whenever something like pain or alarm registers from Hibiki. From his Soulmate. So when he jolts at a sudden shock shooting up his spine, the empath drops everything he's doing and opens his mind.

'Hibiki? You good?'

Nothing. The only thing that stops Kaito from bolting out his Door is the restraint that they promised each other to exercise so that neither of them ran themselves ragged from paranoid worry.

Thirty minutes drag on with him nearly digging a trench in the grass before a massive Japanese cedar before he finally picks something up from the blonde.

'Hibiki.' Louder, this time. 'What happened?'

Y̸o̷u̷r̶ ̶p̸r̴e̵t̸t̶y̴ ̴l̸i̷t̵t̴l̵e̷ ̶m̸o̷u̶t̸h̶ ̴r̸a̶r̷e̸l̶y̸ ̵s̸p̶i̸t̸s̷ ̴o̴u̷t̴ ̴f̷i̶l̶t̸h̴ ̸l̶i̴k̵e̴ ̴t̵h̷i̶s̴ ̷g̶u̴y̸'̶s̸.̷

Kaito grimaces at the warble of his Shadow's snarking. ]
nagano: all manga bases by <user name=dresspheres site=tumblr> (you might say i'm overreacting)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-08 08:08 am (UTC)(link)
'̵H̴o̶l̸y̴ ̵s̵h̶i̴t̴,̵ ̸t̸h̸a̶t̸ ̵d̵u̴d̶e̵ ̶a̸c̶t̷u̸a̷l̷l̷y̶ ̵f̴o̶l̸l̷o̷w̴e̶d̴ ̶i̷n̸s̶t̶r̶u̶c̶t̶i̵o̸n̵s̴?̵ ̵W̸o̶w̸!̶ ̴T̷h̸e̸ ̶o̷n̶e̷ ̷t̴i̶m̷e̵ ̵t̶h̴e̴s̷e̴ ̸p̴e̴o̵p̶l̵e̸ ̵b̴e̴i̵n̸g̸ ̶i̷d̵i̶o̴t̷i̸c̴ ̷b̵l̴e̶e̵d̶i̵n̴g̶ ̶h̵e̸a̷r̵t̸s̷ ̷w̶o̴u̶l̶d̶ ̷h̵e̷l̶p̷ ̸y̸o̶u̷,̴ ̸t̸h̶e̴y̶ ̵g̶e̴t̵ ̴s̷m̶a̶r̷t̴!̷ ̸H̵a̷h̷a̷h̵a̶h̴a̶!̷'̶

'Shut the fuck up.'

Thoroughly pissed (not because of the Restless, mind you—he's happy the guy disarmed one of the guards), Kaito whips some blood off the fractured edge of his stolen sword and proceeds to finish the job—of knocking these pricks unconscious. Swapping one nearly-broken sword for a slightly-less-nearly-broken article, he darts off in the direction he'd pointed to. It doesn't take too long for him to catch up with the other.

"—You're welcome," he finally replies, golds darting around to check their perimeter. More guards are approaching, though Marius currently looks a bit more like an ally than an escaping convict.

"Detain him!" one yells, clearly trying to instruct the Centurion to disable Kaito, who blanches before glancing over.

"Hm. That might be a problem. I'm counting five total. Run or fight, pal?"
uncourteous: (pic#15987227)

callisto regulus / villains are destined to die

[personal profile] uncourteous 2022-11-08 08:31 am (UTC)(link)
PUSHING UP DAISIES.

[ the concept of having any real emotional ties is not one he avidly likes to admit. while he doesn’t necessarily care whether his prior reputation holds any weight here— the crown prince of iron and blood did rather dramatic after all, hadn’t it? — he does care about displaying weakness. maybe it’s a bad habit, or something he’ll never truly become accustomed to. which is why as of now... he’s done his best to ignore whatever feelings he’s had thus far. choosing to focus on the present.

… and conveniently ignore whatever itch in his throat or the heat that burns between his temples. if anything, it was a lot easier to carry on in this state than it was to attend formal events while poisoned. so there was that? hence, it's in the beginning stages of this sickness that he does his best to remain focused on others. though, it isn’t as much in charity as it is a distraction.

thankfully, there was no end to easy diversions in this place.
]

a. [ hence, (unfortunately) this means someone needs to be the object of his latest obsession in finding random cures. whether you intended to receive his help or not, he will be there… ] You there. [ literally stepping into their path. ]

Be grateful, it’s not everyday you can say you’ve been personally looked after by me. [ there’s a brief touch of a smirk that slips across his lips. ] Let me take your temperature. [ just by hand, that is. ]

b. [ so, there comes a point in every man’s life where maybe they’re not at their best. denial could only get a person so far. he’s not sure what sprung this on, but it’s not a lie to state that uncharacteristic to himself, he hasn’t been feeling too well and it’s become increasingly difficult to hide it. but, it’s in this that he … has heard some peculiar rumors.

they seem to believe this disease was something of a lovesickness. a feelings sickness…? he isn’t quite sure what would fit adequately to what he feels, if just for lacking awareness or desire to delve into his own more intimate feelings. so as always, instead of legitimately explaining himself, he decisively opts to conduct himself in his usual straightforward and questionable manner.

he bites bites down a cough that he threatens to spill before smoothly asking:
] If you’re going to stare, the least you can do is allow me a bit of relief with that mouth of yours. [ this probably sounds very misleading, but he means… let’s talk, maybe? ]

TO THE RESCUE.

[ despite his own experience in the heat of battle, a rescue mission is obviously quite different. also unlike the terrain he knew so well at home, he completely comprehends the fact that he is mostly blind here, but that doesn’t really bother him much. he was used to a certain level of recklessness and he doubts he would have survived without that impulse.

that said, he peeks across the hall. there’s an obvious guard or two posted at the door. he seems to ponder on this momentarily, before focusing his gaze on nearest person— maybe sharing the same hiding space—
] Do you have a plan? Or are we simply meant to shed blood without a second thought?

[ someone please stop him, or join in!? ]

WILDCARDS & STARTERS!

[ feel free to wildcard me, or request a custom starter and i can def. make things work!! ]
uncourteous: (pic#16033208)

🫧 kokomi.

[personal profile] uncourteous 2022-11-08 08:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ to be honest, in the midst of coughing, he didn't expect to see someone familair. almost too familiar if the nature in how they met was telling of anything. then again, it isn't like callisto would bring attention back to that. despite how lacking in delicacy he was, it wasn't like he'd shame someone who obviously displayed a certain level of goodwill towards him. acquaintances she called them, didn't she?

a fact he isn't completely sure he understands even now.

that said, while their eyes met. he was actually going to simply walk in the other direction, perhaps to avoid this whole awkward display. especially as he doesn't necessarily have any expectations for others to give a shit about his own circumstances. no, it was never quite like that. at least not without that extra layer of wanting something from him, or... beyond that wanting him dead. as much as he tries to shut those thoughts out, sometimes it feels even harder here where no one seemed to follow the same conventions callisto was accustomed to. that said, when he's just about to step aside and make his way in the other direction, he just barely holds back another coughing fit.

ah, so much for appearing flawless.

he supposes he didn't have much of a choice but to acknowledge it now. hence, he looks up at her, doing his best to brush off the bit of the blood on the corner of his lip.
] Greetings, my lady. Have you changed your opinion of me yet?
windsongs: (106 - Copy)

"ok going to bed *also posts*"

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-11-08 09:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Metal scrapes against stone as Hibiki draws her arm back in an attempt to prop herself up. If any of her cellmates are trying to say anything to her, their voices are drowned out by the constant wave of screams that echo through this place of lost souls.

Great. Fucking wonderful. There's only one place that comes to mind when it comes to the wails of the damned and forsaken, and it's the last place that she would ever want to be. Deep breaths. Don't panic. Focus. She needs to shake herself out of this fast--and hearing a certain someone's voice in her head is just what Hibiki needs to help clear the haze.

'...You haven't been in here long enough to say that.'

Wincing as she props herself up, she slowly opens her mind. Despite being a jumbled mess of emotions with an undercurrent of pain, there is a surprising amount of clarity in her thoughts, even if she sounds incredibly terse.

'Where are you right now? In Stygia, or somewhere else?'

That's not answering his question, Hibiki. ]
nagano: (but there's no music)

[personal profile] nagano 2022-11-08 09:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ Y̵o̶U̷ ̷h̶A̵v̸E̸n̸'̴T̸ ̴b̸E̵e̷N̸ ̸h̵E̴r̸E̴ ̸l̴O̶n̴G̷ ̷e̶N̷o̴U̴g̴H̸ ̸t̷O̶ ̵s̵A̶y̵ ̵T̴h̷A̶t̸.̷

Kaito doesn't bother acknowledging his Shadow this time. His gaze narrows considerably (the poor onion he was cutting is probably scared to shit right now (oh wait it's dead)). Even if her aura wasn't betraying just how Fucked Up her state of mind was right now, she still had yet to learn that her partner was a hypocrite.

Right now, only he can dodge questions.

'Hibiki. What. Happened?' ]
windsongs: (Default)

[personal profile] windsongs 2022-11-08 09:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's avoiding the question--but then, so is she. But Hibiki trusts him enough to not hide whether he got picked up off the streets as well, and while there is the briefest twinge of irritation at his shadow making fun of her, she knows she needs to focus.

Propping herself up with a wince, she hones in on Kaito's voice. She needs to ignore the lamentations in the background and steel herself for her partner's reaction.

'Got picked up off the streets, because of my 'involvement with the brutal murders of members of the Hierarchy'. That I was part of the coordinated attack during the harvest festival. I. ...I'm in one of the cells in the Gallows.'

As soon as she finishes, Hibiki prepares for the absolute tidal wave that he will no doubt unleash. Well, it's time to add some mental pain to the physical she's feeling right now. ]
dodgeouttahell: (17)

zagreus / hades

[personal profile] dodgeouttahell 2022-11-08 09:49 am (UTC)(link)
[OOC: For the tl's hanahaki curse, I decided to keep it as vague as possible to make people comfortable when reading it, but fair warning that the Stage 2 and Stage 3 prompts tend to be a little more aggressive, especially as threads go on. I'm very happy to handwave it all for sol shenanigans; just give me a 👋 on the subject line and I'll transform it into mere shadow antics or something. There are no planned group efforts for jailbreak, so go ahead and insert your character there either as a partner or the fugitive. Zag knows a thing or two about getting out of fortresses. (He will want to save the prisoner, by the way.)]

A. Sing, Calliope, of blood and unrequited love. Pretty please with a cherry on top, I feel like people keep ordering you around. (CW: hints of hanahaki, blood, and slight body horror)

Stage one — Notice board:

[He kneels at the bank, cups his hands together to gather water in the hollow of his palms. Brings it to his face, letting its coolness spread across his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids. He lets it trickle down his neck and sighs for a moment before wiping the dampness off, shaking his fingers. He doesn’t drink it for fear of its properties (the Lethe whisks away memories, and the Styx meant divine torture), but he’s been relying on the spray a lot, on the cold bite against his flushed skin.

He gets up, wiping his hands again on his leggings, and heads toward the person who he had asked for a minute to ‘freshen up’ after arranging with them to tackle one of the tasks on the notice board (or maybe they’d just arranged to hang out). Clears his throat.
]

Right! Are you ready?


Stage two — Errands:

[He’s fast, and if the scorch marks striating from the pier and the docks and out into the several districts of the town are anything to go by, he’s been busy. Bringing meals to fishermen (he’s so fast that he’s discarded the rather large and awkwardly square bag to strap onto his shoulders that he was offered once), deliveries to a seedier part of town because some merchants provide the establishments there but would rather avoid the area. It all started when the lady next door called on him from a window and beckoned him closer. Asked him to take a bundle that warmed his arms as she placed it there, ’a strapping young man such as yourself will make sure it’s still warm when it arrives, won’t you?’, with the promise of a warm loaf waiting for him when he gets back. Word spread like wildfire, and Zagreus was suddenly with his hands full, his phone vibrating every now and then with requests. Maybe he’s on his way with your errand now as you read this.

Zag feels like his cousin would be proud, albeit he’s sure he’d do better (and faster) work. He hopes somehow, somewhere, he feels it as an homage for all the times he’s helped him as well.

(He wonders how’s his turtle doing.)

The world, however, tilts at one point. Making his way back, he stumbles. In a mid-dash, his stumbling leads to him bracing himself on a surface with a loud clatter, fingertips snagging at the walls of the library in Serene (someone needed to return their books and was unable to).

He (thinks he) hears a simple ‘Tsch’; feels the nervous thrum of a rattlesnake in the distance, like two people who had been interrupted in their gossiping at the corner of the street. When he looks at the source, he only sees two Restless sitting at the table of an establishment nearby, sipping at their tea, unconcerned and unaware.

He’d feel disappointed at the lack of green and blue if his throat didn’t clog suddenly, and he covers his mouth to muffle the following coughing fit.

When he withdraws his hand, he sees petals, white and red, damp and rubbery in texture, as he feels them between his thumb and forefinger. He sighs, voice croaking and frowning.
]

Blast, not again.


Stage three — Is there no escape?

[Flittering through his mind, he hears a chiding tone, one that tends to hide fondness with irritation, alerting him to pay attention to himself, to stop and think for once.

Zagreus almost wishes to see a frustrated burst of light, a tinge of green. The silence that follows it and the way the world seems to grow around the sudden emptiness of the absence of the voice's owner.

He holds onto his chiton and brings it to his mouth, fingers tightening on the mug of the pub he’d been offered (and oh, did the concerned ’take it; y’don’t look good, lad’ tug at the heartstrings as the honeyed warm wine was pressed into his hands). His chest heaves and Zagreus feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin, that this body doesn’t belong to him.

He lets go of the fabric, wiping the blooms down from it and to the floor, and tells the man behind the counter he’ll bring this back, decided to go home, raising the mug and wincing at how even his ribs are sore.

He barely notices someone entering as he’s about to step out, but thankfully, he doesn’t bump into them; the front of his clothes is a darkened red (darker still, the rest of it the usual garnet), a damp and sticky mess. Or maybe he does; hey, if you want to get gross demigod blood on you, it’s up to you.
]

Oh! [He smiles sheepishly, though he doesn’t look up, making sure he doesn’t spread this to anyone, whatever this is.

(Has he been poisoned?) He sidesteps, making way for the person to go inside first.
] Sorry, go ahead.


B. Do I at least get two hundred?

[At last, this is something that he knows very well.

As soon as he heard about it, he started making questions. Why would these people be arrested? What are the things they have in common? He’s no sleuth, but the whole thing seemed very, very odd. But even if he heard some accounts of how mindless bloodshed was A Thing, apparently, even during what he had assumed being harmless games in the cornstalk maze, he knows that even in his Hell of a home, people weren’t incarcerated without at least a trial.

So in prison he finds himself, slamming a guard down a corridor with his own shield, leaving a black streak on the stone floor behind him. The guard hits their head even within their helmet and promptly gets knocked out. He beckons his companion close, looking around and hoping the ruckus didn’t alert anyone else, and asks them to be on the lookout. Maybe you’re the companion, standing guard with their head on a swivel, throwing him the keys they found on the way to the cells.

Or maybe you’re the one in the cell when he opens the door, and he stretches a hand towards you, smiling hopeful and relieved.
] Are you alright?


C. Wildcard.

[OOC: Feel free to drop your own wildcard, or drop me a PM / catch me on discord to discuss potential closed starters (I’m over at jackuzis#4761)! Here are notes about Zag’s shadow, who is more likely to make an appearance now than before.]

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