Vita agitas maledictus

[whomthebelltolls]

Who: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower (whomthebelltolls) and various! (Check prompt headers for openness of prompts)
When: Aureur, particularly around the event!
Where: Aefenglom, and the Dreamscape
What: Memshare stuff, mostly, but can be used as a catch-all for quests and the like.
Warnings: Oh boy Blood, gore, excessive violence, murder, human experimentation, body horror, cannibalism, addictive substance use and abuse, genocide, suicide (both ideation and comitting), self-harm, PTSD, religious institutions grooming people to use their blood and bodies for shady purposes, also probably some mentions of human trafficking, sexual assault/abuse in other peoples' backstories or memories. And the kitchen sink.

[1: SEMI-OPEN Memshare prompt - For people that had plans]

[What a curious little dream. The Hall of Mirrors, but some of them are indistinguishable - even if she knows, in reality, that many of the ones she's staring at bear some kind of decor upon them, especially her own - and yet here they stand.

She hears footsteps behind her, and cants her head briefly in the direction they come from. A familiar face, then, as she continues to investigate the mirror.] I wonder what it means this time? [And she pushes her hand against the surface of the mirror, immediately withdrawing it after as the surface ripples as it starts to suck her hand into it, like she's just put her hand into a pool of quicksilver.

She shakes her hand a bit, looking at it - no, it's... fine, then turns to her companion as though she's not quite sure she's seeing things properly.

It doesn't matter whose mirror it is - whether her own, or another - because the curiosity takes her and she motions toward it like she wonders if they should try... stepping through the surface. Maybe this is their chance to get home? After all, they fell out of the mirrors, maybe going back in them is the way back home?

It doesn't matter if it's her mirror or theirs, she is sort of curious, and wants to investigate. What in the world is the dream doing this time?]

[2: OPEN - In the dream]

[Clang. Maria's Rakuyo separates into its two sides as she pulls it apart, and sets up before her mirror. Those that know her well will probably note that, unlike before, the whole thing is coated in a fine layer of blood... and it's leaking yet even more. Still, she stands, her back to the mirror, her front to whoever wants to approach.

Her face is drawn into a dark scowl, and her ice-blue eyes rake over the other inhabitants of this dream with a deadly intensity. Too many people, too much curiosity - and none are permitted anywhere near her mirror any longer. The first person that approaches she appraises only briefly, before stepping forward as though to attack. And she will, if they take even another pace toward her.] Stand down. There is nothing for you in this mirror.

[3: OPEN - The Morning After, around Aefenglom]

[Maria awakens to tears on her face, and an awful, empty ache in her chest. In a daze, she stands, ad goes about her morning routine, mind still trying to parse all she had seen. All that had been seen. It's not until she sees herself in a mirror - a regular dressing mirror near the wardrobe in her room - that she finally stops to look at herself, even if it brings up memories anew.

Maria raises a single hand to the fresh tears that spill down her face, gently catching one on the back of a finger. She holds it up, looks at it, marvels a bit at the idea. It has been... so very long since she's wept, and yet, the tears continue to flow, seemingly without end. The Fishing Hamlet - she's not seen it with such terrible clarity in so long. Not heard the voices that curse and scream at her with such acuity since...

... Since before she claimed her own life.

She wipes at her eyes, notes they're red-rimmed and sunken in her reflection. She hasn't slept well. She supposes she won't sleep very well again for a long, long time, then turns back at a thought. A single, stray thought that brings her eyes to rest upon the Rakuyo and Evelyn that even now seem to sleep comfortably in their places beside her bed.

It would be so simple... she steps forward, and before she knows it, she has the sword in her hands, and is raising it up. The bite of cold, sharp metal against the side of her neck is as familiar as it is dreadful; she vaguely remembers how it felt when it severed through the muscle and tendons, what it felt like when the blood rushed out and her mind went woozy and darkness closed in rapidly at the corners of her vision. She doesn't move her hands, though.

What would be the point? She'd just wake up again. And again. Her curse is to live with what she had done, perhaps forever. She wonders if this is how Annalise feels, fated to never find rest, no matter how the journey of life wears on. It's fitting, the greatest among the Vilebloods would end up having to share that same, sorry fate.

The sword drops with a clatter, Maria turns back, unsure when she even got dressed, but knowing she needs to leave. Her bed suddenly has too many poor memories associated with it - a pity, considering how recently some good ones were made there - and she hits the town.

Right to a tavern.

Right to the alcohol.

She surrounds herself with several bottles, and she drinks. It's gotten harder and harder to lose her mind into the sway of the alcohol since her blood started to burn with a fire so similar and yet so not to the burn of the Vileblood corruption. Yet, still she tries.

Bottle in one hand, the other covering her eyes, she drinks, and that's how she'll be found the entire rest of the day, in a sorry state, trying so hard to forget.]

[4: Wildcard!]

[For all your Not-Memshare Needs! Maria is doing Pile's Plantagorium, Hold Birb Gently, and Dorchacht Devil for quests.

Anyone who wants to get in on the first prompt there, you can message me through PM, at Reslari at Reslari#9561 on Discord, or hit up my plotting post. You can also plot with me for anything else!]

Comments

3, late afternoon

[cryptsleeper]

[The whole experience of the damned house of mirrors and the absolute and abject violation of privacy involved has left Alucard a restless, brittle thing. It is bad enough that Hector has witnessed the immediate aftermath of Dracula's death. In fact, that's the thing that keeps churning in Alucard's mind, because of all the people to walk into the mirror and of all the things to witness, it would have to be that. Of course.

He woke early. Made breakfast for the other two and left a note that explained a need for air and alone time. It ended with an apology for being this mercurial, as well as a promise that he'd make dinner that night. Force normalacy. Moreover, it was something for him to think on as he walked. Better than what his mind might fixate on otherwise.

Alucard is sure that he's walked the circumfernce of the city by the late afternoon. He's figured out a week's worth of dinners. He's determinedly not addressed the matter of Hector at all. He's probably worn a hole through his boots, and that means he needs to sit.

It doesn't matter where, although Alucard thinks that some of the place is familiar. He-- yes. After the trial and execution he was here, wasn't he? It's not a good thing to have, a go to place reserved exclusively for disasters, and yet here he is.

And here Maria is. His eyes catch sight of her before Alucard can do much else, and he knows that shitty posture. That's Trevor posture and a sign of worse things still.

Fuck it.

Alucard walks over. Sits himself across from her, but says nothing else. If he's to be gone, she'll make it clear. Otherwise, he'll just be a presence.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[She's perfectly fine being here, in this particular tavern. There's a more positive association here than, say, the Sly Seadog. After all, that place smells like the ocean, and Alex works there, and those are two things she just absolutely does not want to address right now.

So, she'd rather sit in a more hole-in-the-wall location, tuck herself into the safety of a dark, defensible corner, and drink until her feelings stop working. Which, the last step is proving to be more tricky than the others.

There's a shuddering sense of dread as she hears the rustle of cloth and the thud of a human-sized weight come down in the seat across from her. She doesn't want to deal with people, she doesn't want to face anyone she met in that awful dream, but... she can't ignore them forever. At least she can try to figure out who is in front of her and how to address - or not address - that.

... It's... not who she's expecting. She peers at him through slots between her fingers for a moment before slowly, hazily, her muscles sluggish, she raises her head and puts her hand down. The mostly empty bottle in one hand slides across the table a little as she sits up properly.

There's a glazed look in her eyes, but once she fixates it on him, it abates for a moment. He wasn't there, last night. He wasn't in that hellscape of mirrors and awful memories. Not in hers at least, and that makes him, to the animal part of her brain that's been buzzing, more safe than an alternative.] Get a drink.

[That's all she says, a slur in her speech thickening her accent until her tongue all but trips over the r.]

[cryptsleeper]

In a bit.

[Better than the automatic response of no, one of us needs to be sober. Even if that's the truth and the thing he'll insist upon doing for however long this goes on for.

Alucard's seen some of Trevor's bad drinking impulses, although much of that was back in Wallachia. A pathetic thing that was once some kind of scion of a glorious warrior dynasty, broken by years of hard living and if Alucard was to ever truly venture it, a death wish.

But that isn't what he's seeing here. This thing? It's uglier, it's what Trevor's thing probably started out like. Messy and reactionary and drowning in a sea of, well. He isn't going to prod at a sea of what. Negative emotions are negative emotions right now, there's no value in clarification.]

I'm not going to ask about specifics. Last night violated many people's privacy. [To say the absolute least.] I'm here as solidarity. Nothing more.

3

[getting_better]

[ He's seen that kind of behavior more than once. Tragically more than dozen times. While Maria isn't particularly hard to miss, this particular day was different. She had an all to familiar air around her as she walked in and dived straight into the alcohol and everyone around the tavern was unsure of what to do.

He heard the barkeep whispering with some other customers but he paid them no mind. He had a guess why she was behaving like that, but it'd probably be best to hear it from the mouth of the lady herself. He walked over and sat with Maria, not quite next to her but close enough to make his presence known.

He didn't say anything or touch her alcohol just sat there sipping at his tankard waiting for her to acknowledge he's there and, if she should tell him what's eating her, he'll listen.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[Personal space she wants to growl out, even if he's not particularly close to her. In truth, everyone in this bar is too close to her personal space for her liking. But if she's alone... well, she saw what she almost did when she was alone. It would be too tempting.

... She's fairly certain at this point she's not here to have some chance at redemption. She's sure, in her drunken haze, that she's just here to be tormented more. The moons must be spiteful bitch-goddesses indeed; as bad or worse than Kos.

Eventually, she peeks up, turning enough to stare at him as he sits. She wants to ask what he thinks he's doing. She wants to ask what the point is in sitting with her - can he not see she'd rather brood alone in silence? Instead, she settles on...]

Bad night. Worse morning.

[That's it. That's her whole explanation.]

[getting_better]

[ He nodded, pinning his guess as being correct. The mirrors. Maria didn't strike him as someone evil but, he's seen enough despair, guilt, anger and knows enough about sin to know when someone is carrying something heavy. She's one such person and he knows better than to ask how it went or about what it was. ]

Well, alcohol is always great but alone, and that much, is going to make you feel ten times worse than you already do.

[ He calls the waitress over and orders roast beef for each of them. Some baby potatoes too in case she doesn't feel like she can finish the food or have much of an appetite. ]

1

[long_live_the_queen]

[Until now, Kaede had been avoiding the mirrors. She'd heard of people vanishing back through them just like they arrived, and home...home wasn't a place she wanted to return to. It wasn't even home anymore, and the mere implication she could return there at any moment loomed over her head like a sword about to drop. Easy to ignore sometimes, dreadfully obvious others—like now.

Her visits to the Hall of Mirrors had always been brief things, searches for those gone missing—searches that never turned up anything. She shouldn't bother with this place, and yet—here it was, thrown right in her face.

The Chimera both was and wasn't expecting to find Maria here. This was another of those shared dreams, that was clear. But this seemed an odd place to find Maria. Or, maybe...the mirror was hers? Was her presence the one making it distinct from the others?

The Monster shifted her weight from foot to foot, the end of her tail curling on itself.]

...are you sure?

[Kaede and paranoid wariness practically shared the same definition, but this was cautious even for her.

She didn't want to go back.]

[whomthebelltolls]

This dream... I think it wants to show us something. Perhaps of home? Still... if we're going anywhere... [She motions at the mirror, the way it oozes blood from some crack or so in one of the corners. The lumenflowers that adorn it; the etching of the Cainhurst Sigil in one corner, half-hidden under a facsimile of Maria's hat.]

It will be to Yharnam. And if any of these Mirrorbound could survive that place, especially in a dream, I believe you may be among the few.

[Her worry is whether or not these dream realms - or all dream realms - were connected. If they were... they might just end up in actual Yharnam as it exists, a dream of things from darker, more tentacle-ridden places than people.]

[long_live_the_queen]

[Oh. That sounded...an awful lot like praise, and coming from Maria, no less. The Chimera's silent fretting stilled, and for a moment her expression softened in surprise. It was gone the next, but the tense grimace didn't return.]

Is that so.

[Then—she'd need her swords. They weren't much, but Kaede wasn't wearing them the last time she looked.

But dreams didn't follow the waking world's logic. The Chimera glanced down—and the handle of a cutlass was bound at her waist, drawn there by a dream-thought. She shook out her shoulders, and the weapons rattled in their bindings as she did so, further confirming their inexplicable existence.

Nerves soothed, Kaede nodded.]

Then—let's go.

1 for college fun(?) times

[yesdoubt]

[Momo is a curious sort, and also likes finding out the things that other people don't necessarily offer him upfront. It's something of a force of habit thing now due to the business he's in and his now-natural tendency to try and read people at a glance because of it, but in a world like this, it has an extra edge. That being the fact that basically every world he hears of seems to be considerably less mundane than his own, and he really wants to find out more about them.

So in this case, it is indeed Maria's mirror he elects to investigate, and while he seems to hesitate for a moment at her company, as if unsure how she'll react, he eases visibly when it seems she's just as interested in exploring as he is.]

Hard to tell. We haven't even found out what the one before this one was pointing to, have we? [The one preceding the new arrivals, about the underground city. Nonetheless, he reaches out to touch the surface of the mirror.] Well, Momo-chan is nothing if not adventurous. Shall we?

[He offers her a wink, and then steps completely through the glass.]

[whomthebelltolls]

... Are you sure you want to cross through so br-....

[Welp, there he goes.]

... -azenly...

[Maria sighs; she's curious, but they can't exactly see through the mirror to know what they're getting into on the other side. If it is something related to her home, then it's going to be something violent, and she better go along with him in case the worst happens, like they are deposited in a dream of the Hunt, or something.

When she comes through the other side, however... it's not what she's expecting. They crunch down a path through some old trees toward an austere building that sits at the side of a lake. ]

... Byrgenwerth?

[She frowns, stepping forward down the path a few steps, ignoring Momo for a moment to stare up at the domed top, backlit by the moon. More curious than that, though, are the number of students milling about in the area. Some sit beneath trees, nose-deep in books, others walk, chatting with their fellows, about the grounds and into and out of the building. They all wear a specific uniforms as they go about the place - and despite the old-timey, 1800s feel of the place, even the women wear trousers for the most part. Some of the students opt to wear coats but between the dress and the building, it's obvious: This is a place of learning of some kind. A school by a moonlit lake.

No Blood, no Beasts here, it just... smells so nostalgic and like Byrgenwerth, or at least its grounds, Maria feels a yearning within herself. A yearning for simpler, easier days.

The students pay them no mind, walking past as though they're not there, and Maria reaches out to touch one - only for her hand to pass right through them. Curious, then this must still be part of that dream they're having.]

I'm not sure what it wants to show us, but if it's anything, it's inside. [Maria finally says, after a moment, her voice more hoarse than normal.]

[yesdoubt]

[Momo's not exactly the most cautious about his own life anyway, but he's also just assuming dream logic, so he's a bit less cautious than he might be in reality. Nobody's shown him any horror movie logic of dying in the dream meaning dying in real life just yet, so he's going to assume for now that's not the case.

On the topic of horror movies, his first thought seeing the building is that it looks like something out of a twisted fairy tale type film. It's a lot more populated than he'd expect from that, though, and it's pretty obvious just from a cursory scan of what the people milling about are wearing that it's a school of some description. Or probably a university, he's guessing, judging by the average age that seems to be represented.

Maria's tone catches his attention, and he turns his head with a slight, almost apologetic grin. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission for being nosy.] Maybe just something nostalgic? This looks like the kind of building that people in my world are scrambling to preserve these days.

[Either way, with Maria's implicit suggestion to enter, Momo starts to head towards the door to see if he can investigate what's inside.] This is a college or university or something, though, isn't it? Just to make sure I'm not getting completely the wrong impression.

[He doesn't know if magic schools operate differently to normal schools as he's used to from his world, but at least Undermael College gives him something to work off.]

[gunsmithed]

[ In all the time he's been here, Percy has never gone back to the mirror house after he stepped through it. Finding himself there now is strange enough that he's been absently wandering the halls, studying the rows of no longer identical mirrors. He slows to a stop as he catches sight of Maria's familiar tall form, and arches an eyebrow in return when she glances back at him. ]

Knowing this place, it could be... [ He trails off as her hand suddenly presses into the mirror. ] ...ah.

[ Well then. He gives the mirror another look, long and considering, before meeting Maria's eyes again, one side of his mouth lifting just a bit. ]

If you're game, I am. After you?

[whomthebelltolls]

... If it is what I think it will be, it will be connected to my home: Yharnam is a very dangerous place, so keep your wits and arms about you.

[She proceeds through the mirror slowly, first with one arm that she leaves buried to the shoulder until she's sure it won't be cut off or something. She frowns, though, after a moment.] It's cold...?

[Well, curiosity is a terminal illness, and Maria has nothing if not a death wish, so she finally pushes her upper body through the rippling surface. When the world re-orients itself, they stand before a massive castle, snow flurries swirling about them lazily. It's bitingly cold, and Maria suddenly misses her hunter gear - it was made for this kind of weather, specifically, after all.]

Cainhurst.

[She says this with all the dry bitterness of one who is not particularly enthused about the change in scenery, but it might just be the cold. She's interrupted from making any other comments by the thundering sounds of hooves from behind them. Up through the gate rides a contingent of knights on black horses. Only one or two wear heavy metal armor of any kind; the rest are all bedecked in extraordinarily expensive looking finery, both very familiar-looking, and very not to what Maria normally wears when she's out on excursion. There's just a lot more red.

A couple stable boys seem to all but materialize from behind one of the many statues that decorate the courtyard of the castle, and they start taking the knights' horses.

One knight in particular is just starting to gain height above the others much older than her. It's Maria, by the pale hair and skin, but she's long and gangly and not quite grown into her body yet - her as a teenager, then.]

"You've got to take better care of her than that, girl." [One of the knights is speaking to her, an older man with slicked-back salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed and oiled beard. Something about all of them screams nobility, of course, but maybe to a point of excess.

The younger Maria - and it is her when she speaks, there's no mistaking that soft voice - looks suitably abashed, and lowers her gaze, rubbing her toe against the snowy rocks beneath. The pink tinge to her cheeks may not just be wind burn from the frigid air and long ride.] Of course, sir. I was... s-simply not expecting the firing mechanism to go bad so soon.

[There's also something else in her voice - emotion. She sounds ashamed, but more than that, there seems to be any emotion in her voice whatsoever.]

"Well, let's go get her fixed. No sense in carrying around a broken gun; she'll not do you any good that way."

[Ah. Now Maria - the modern Maria - remembers, and she speaks up, then. It may be then that the difference between this younger Maria and the current one is made most obvious: A lot of Life has clearly happened between these two times. And not much of it must have been good.] Come on, I remember this. This was the day my Evelyn locked up and backfired on me. I still have the scar on my hand, I think. They're headed toward the armory.

[The sooner she can get out of here, the better. If the point of these mirrors is to voyeuristically look into her memories, she'd rather get this done quickly.]

[gunsmithed]

[ If Maria is less than eager to face the sight in front of them, Percy is almost visibly taken aback. The castle looming is much grander than anything Whitestone has ever seen, but between the stone and the snow it bears an almost jarring resemblance to Percy's home.

He's caught enough on it that it takes him a moment to register the people appearing, and then a second longer to recognize the girl across from them as the woman at his side. It's enough of a mental side step that when the memory mentions a broken gun, he almost opens his mouth to offer to fix it before it occurs just how little help that will be to anyone.

His eyes linger on that teenager girl, then move back towards Maria in silence. As she gestures for them to go, he falls into step with her without hesitation. ]

I've had that happen a time or two. [ It's the only thing he's said so far, carefully mild. ]

wildcard except it is a memshare, surprise

[crowsfeat]

[ The night is long and dark. A brilliant moon hangs in the sky, but its light barely cuts through the misty streets, a sickly wetness within its gutters, blackened corners lined with chained coffins and the stench of the dead. What's more, a heady scent of iron and blood lingers as well, and sometimes ghosts of a cloyingly sweet incense linger past. The only light besides the moon one can see are burning effigies, human-like creatures strung up and set ablaze. Moving past them is... tense. As if they'd spring to life again, take their knife-like claws and slash one's flesh again.

Traveling though these streets, one sticks to darkness, hearing the sounds, the howls, of other monsters throughout the alleys and trenches. Torches, the sound of steel dragging against stone, accompany parties of city-folk, though the looks of their eyes, the sounds of their voices, makes it difficult to imagine they're so different from the beasts they've put to the flames. The entire city feels as if it is drenched in the madness of blood...

There was no doubt, to Maria at least, that this was Yharnam, deep within the thralls of the scourge, of the sickness, that had all spiraled from the actions of schools and the Church.

One's path could vary, but the will of the memory pushes forward, further down, until gravestones begin to become as common as walls, littered, cloistered, marking graves for unnamed dead. And there, within that, is another light.

A fire, but not that of burning beasts. And the sweet smell of incense again. Three figures sit around it; a tall man in black with a deep and jovial laugh, a smaller man in mustard brown whose voice was aged and wise, and one that Maria would find quite familiar... ]

Oh my

[whomthebelltolls]

[At first, she stares at the alien landscape. So like Yharnam, yet so not, and yet a different kind of twisted madness from the half-broken facsimile of the city that was reflected in the Nightmare.

Except, Maria realizes, as she strides down familiar streets, lined with abandoned horse-drawn carriages and littered with caskets and gravestones, this truly is Yharnam. Yharnam taken to its most logical, and yet most terrible end. An apocalyptic vision of the future that doesn't particularly surprise Maria, but does still pang regret in her chest nonetheless. She never thought she'd be sorry to see Yharnam fall apart like this - some bitter part of her sometimes thought the city deserved it for all the way it treated most people - but she also thinks, maybe, there's some sympathy for all the poor fools that didn't know what they were signing up for when they bought into Laurence's lies.

Then she remembers how much of a hand she had in it all, and disregards that. She still does not get the right to feel sorry, or sad.

The Hunt is on, Maria notes, by the lack of civilians (she sees the censers burning near the doors, and lights in windows - there must be people somewhere that haven't totally succumb to the madness), the Beasts burning in the streets, but while she's used to seeing Hunters prowling the avenues and alleys alike, some of these Hunters are more Beast than they are human to begin with. And there's so many more of them operating in such open venues.

She approaches one, cautiously, finding a good hiding place to wait for it to pass. The reek of Beasthood is everywhere, but it's worse than she remembers it. Like it's soaked into the very facades of the buildings around them, reeking and damp. There's Blood in the air, too, but Maria doesn't find herself salivating over it like she usually does - the scent of Beasthood is too strong, too pungent, and the Blood is more like the tinge of Lumenflowers that used to underlie the blood and rot of the Research Hall - subtle, sweet, alluring, but ultimately less important.

So she proceeds on, cautiously. She realizes at some point the huntsmen cannot see or hear her, but every Hunter instinct she has screams at her to take the shadows anyway. Forward, and onward, across the bridge, and into a... proper cemetery, it appears. One of the few that were apparently already overflowing their capacity with the carnage in Yharnam itself.

She recognizes the three as Hunters, and she recognizes the woman among them, but the other two are a mystery. It matters not, sometimes Hunters traveled in groups, but if she's seeing the Crow here in a memory...

Maria glances around the area again, ignoring the big man's booming laugh, and circles cautiously. Surely, the Hunters won't see her, either, but she doesn't want to take them by surprise, just in case. Not on a night like this. That's how you die. But still, whatever is going on here, this is the way she's been lead, so she'll observe them.]

[crowsfeat]

[ The two men speak. Well, that is to say, one could tell they were speaking, but the actual words don't seem to form into anything one can make out. A mix of sounds, plosives and sibilance, tones and vocal gestures, things that could convey meaning but not understanding. But there was joy there. Familiarity. These were comrades. And while Eileen did not speak, they clearly considered her a part of it. And even behind the mask, one could sense the warmth of belonging...

A white flash.

The fire is gone. The sweet incense has departed. The cold seeps back in, cutting, chilling. There is darkness and fog, but the light of the moon above reveals... It shows Maria Eileen again, alone. Her blades are in her hands, separated, shining within that moonlight.

Well. The parts that were not drenched in blood.

At her feat is the corpse of the smaller man. His own weapons still held tight in deathly grip, his eyes shot with the glassy but ghostly familiar fog. The sign of madness.

The larger man was present too, also still, but far less freshly dead, laid with his axe placed beside him in memorial, but... one could only tell it was him by the holy vestments he'd worn. The creature that laid there was not human any longer... and had not been for some time. ]

Tell me, Lady Maria... had you ever needed to turn your blade against your own?

[ Eileen's voice didn't come from the one standing in front of her, but rather from just behind. ]

1!!

[supersoldier]

[Curiosity compels him, it’s true. But it a rational curiosity, perhaps much like her own — these mirrors have remained dormant until now, but today they flicker and ripple like mercury to the touch. Something is happening, and that something entails objects that are linked to their arrival here.

And so, undeterred as he often seems to be, Sephiroth's assurance is even-keeled and cool.]

Step through it. I’ll be right behind you.

[In case their venture ends up being not… well, particularly safe. But even this does not faze him, because where are they do find answers if they do not chase after them in the unknown? It’s Maria’s mirror, but even if it wasn’t — even if it was his — his reply would have been the same.]

Gonna start this the other side from Kaede to mix it up haha

[whomthebelltolls]

It may connect to some part of my home. If it does... be ready. Yharnam is not a friendly place. [And it would be just her luck they'd stumble through it and right into the middle of a Hunt or something.

She starts slowly, testing with her hand and arm at first - when that's not immediately lobbed off by anything waiting on the other side, she follows with the rest of her, rapidly.

What hits her on the other side is a gentle, wonderful scent that sends a strange thrill of yearning through her body; it's the scent of Lumenflowers. As the disorientation fades, Maria finds herself face-to-back with a fifteen foot tall, gray-blue figure that is... very familiar. So familiar, she forgets for a moment that the Failures don't like to be snuck up on, and she almost immediately takes a few steps to the side.

One sits in the flowers, apparently toying with petals between its fingers. A second stands below the giant Lumenwood at the center of the garden, hands raised, gently "tending" to it in some fashion. Maria remembers that being a habit of that one - the third stands stock still, arms raised to the sky as though in prayer. Another habit of theirs.

To one side, the double-doors of the Research Hall are open, and when the wind shifts, it brings the scent of Blood (sweet, alluring, rich and thick and delicious, and she fights to keep the addiction from hitting her too hard again), and rot (far less pleasant, and a good grounding note). To the other, and Maria looks, the Astral Clocktower seems to be closed and locked.

... Good. That's not the way they need to go. By this point, Sephiroth should be caught up. This isn't a particularly pleasant place to be, Maria knows, and she has an idea she knows what this is, but... well, as long as the Astral Clocktower remains closed. She can divulge the darkest parts of the Healing Church to someone who knows nothing about what that even is. She motions toward the Failures.] ... They cannot see with normal eyes, but we should be cautious until we know if they can sense us at all. They don't like intruders whose sounds and scents they don't recognize in their garden.

whatever is easiest!

[supersoldier]

[The warning is noted, but it does not earn any more hesitance from Sephiroth. When she steps through, he follows shortly after, closing his eyes as their forms press into the shimmering glass of the mirror.

When he opens them on the other side, he cannot say that it is quite what he expected.

It’s a strange floral smell he scents first, carried by a breeze that wraps around his form even while he casts a sharp-eyed look at his surroundings. It is surreal, and quite departed from anything he’s seen before — these flowers are inordinately large, swaying and casting lengthy shadows across the ground. But more over, strange creatures with steely gray-blue skin, their attentions currently kept away from their presence, are paired with the sight.

Unease winds through his nerves, but with the practiced nature of a SOLDIER, Sephiroth holds it at bay. He cannot help but observe, however, their strange habits — is one praying to the sky overhead? — and the buildings that look to surround them; carved of old and gothic-looking lines.]

What are they? [He asks after she’s done speaking because that is honestly the most obvious question on the tip of his tongue.]

I. What’s better than one pain train? Two-toot

[sing_for_me]

[ Was Alex hesitant about going through mysterious furniture? Absolutely, especially considering the last time she went through one. The difference this time though, was that Maria was with her. Even if this was some weird dream, the merrow still felt safer by her side, and wanted to make sure she was safe too. If Maria was going in, there was no way Alex wasn’t going with her. Before the hunter goes any further, she reaches to take the other woman’s hand, squeezing it as she follows her in. ]

Aaaaaaall aboooooaaaard

[whomthebelltolls]

[Truth be told, having her hand grasped before heading through the mirrors was both a blessing, and a reminder that... if it was her mirror, then what was on the other side was probably related to Yharnam, and thus a dangerous situation for them both. But especially Alex, who Maria knew not to have any real combat ability.

She almost tells the merrow no... but there's something about Alex's persistent, quiet determination that tells her she's just going to have an argument on her hands if she tries, and she doesn't particularly want that.

Might as well figure it out, and she steps through, leading Alex carefully.

The world is black, for a moment, then oscillates, then... the vision comes in, and Maria regrets every decision in her life that lead to this moment, so suddenly and sharply that it probably feels like a slap across the Bond.

A group of people, Maria distinctly included among them, walks along a thin path beside a shoreline. In the distance, there is a village, shrouded in a low-lying haze. The day is getting late, by the position of the sun, and clearly they must have been walking for a while. Off the coast, over the sea, a storm is rolling in, clouds tumbling over each other like an avalanche. The scent of rain begins to mix with the permeating brine of the ocean. Still, the group presses forward. Leading the group is a man in the early stages of middle-age, carrying a scythe. He is, somehow, taller than Maria. Upon close inspection, as the group's forms solidify, everyone in the little cohort here is armed in some way.

There's movement in the village, and forms both human and not mill about. As the group approaches, several of the villagers, wary of the armed strangers, begin to disperse back toward the center of the village, or their homes. Shutters begin to close.

Along the muddy path, a strange, solitary figure approaches, walking a strange, uneven gait.]

Oh no... Not this.

[That's not the memory of Maria, that's the "real" one, standing at Alex's side. She's stock still and rigid, hand suddenly clenching Alex's, like if she doesn't move, this memory (and she knows what it is now) won't continue to play out. Or maybe it'll be different. Maybe it won't be as awful as Maria remembers in her nightmares. From in her mind, something new and turbulent emerges: grief, guilt, and despair start to bubble up from between sudden cracks in the ice that usually protects her mind. A flood that can consume and drown if it's not stopped.

And likely, it won't be.]

"Travelers. What brings you to our... village?" [The individual from the village speaks first, after a greeting wave from the leader of the group of Hunters. His voice - and it is male, for all it is definitely not human - sounds like he's trying to say words with a mouth not quite made for what he's speaking. The pause is enunciated with a strange burbling noise, like air burbling out of a hole in his throat. Or, more likely, gills.]

"Greetings!" [And it's not the older man who speaks, first. A younger one - just about Maria's height, actually - steps out from behind the two Hunters leading. He has a fervent air about him, an earnestness in his eyes as he studies the fish-man ahead of them. The younger man leaves the company of another: a horse-faced young man with a wild mane of hair, and a broadsword slung across his back. The first of the young men speaks again, in introduction.] "We hail from Byrgenwerth College, near the city of Yharnam! We come because we've heard of a curiosity in this place: a Great One in or near your shores. We're here to interact with it; perhaps study it. Commune, even, if it will let us."

[If the fish-man's face could be seen outside of his hooded shawl, perhaps he would be frowning at the statement. He pauses, long enough for the same sentiment to carry across.] "No... bloodless outsiders are allowed near Mother Kos. Return from whence you came."

[There's something suddenly freezing cold about the young man's smile as it stays upon his face. A few raindrops begin to fall, blown ahead of the storm front on winds that are beginning to pick up. The Hunters begin to mill, a bit uneasily, a few, including Maria, edge their hands closer to their weapons.

In the village, movement again. A scant handful of the villagers have returned - armed with harpoons.] "You misunderstand our intentions. We weren't asking you. Especially after what happened to our previous companions who attempted to contact you and your Great One. Now, step aside."

[The young man brushes past the fish-man, who makes no real move to stop him, but a strange, burbling growling noise. The other Hunters pass, as well, each eyeing the creature warily, but when it's clear he has no intention to attack any of them, they simply pass without incident.]

... Alex. You may not want to watch this... [There's Maria again. The real one, with a note of desperate pleading in her voice that belies her words. It's not that she doesn't think Alex will want to watch this - she's all but begging her not to.]

i

[digiorno]

[His eyes widen as he watches the mirror attempt to swallow up Maria’s hand. Glancing from her unblemished palm to her face, he registers that there is no expression of pain there, that she hasn’t been hurt. Not yet, anyway.]

[Leery as he is of mirrors these days, since before Aefenglom was even a concept, there’s some comfort in being by Maria’s side in the face of this strange dream. He just barely manages to suppress a laugh as he considers what Illuso might have done if it was Maria who came through the mirror into his trap. Died bloody, obviously. Which he did in the end, too, but it would have come much more swiftly.]

[So of course he’ll follow her in. This isn’t his mirror, he knows that, although the markings around the edge don’t mean much to him. Is it hers? She holds her cards so tight to her chest he likely wouldn’t be able to tell even if he took the time to examine it. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever’s in there, Maria isn’t likely to come to any harm.]

[He touches the inside of his wrist, where a knife rests under long sleeves and loose cuffs, and nods.] I’ve got your back. [With a wry smile. They both know she doesn’t need it, but he does have it all the same.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[It's strange, because it feels... not quite warm, but perfectly temperate on the other side. Maria looks to Giorno, looks at his motion - he's armed - and nods. If this is connected to Yharnam, he might very well need to defend himself. If not... then it was worth it anyway.

So Maria steps through, feeling mighty strange that it doesn't feel like passing through the surface of some body of water. There's air on one side, a strange sensation of power, and then... air on the other side.

They emerge into a brief darkness. One that clears after a moment.

A group of people, Maria distinctly included among them, walks along a thin path beside a shoreline. In the distance, there is a village, shrouded in a low-lying haze. The day is getting late, by the position of the sun, and clearly they must have been walking for a while. Off the coast, over the sea, a storm is rolling in, clouds tumbling over each other like an avalanche. The scent of rain begins to mix with the permeating brine of the ocean. Still, the group presses forward. Leading the group is a man in the early stages of middle-age, carrying a scythe. He is, somehow, taller than Maria. Upon close inspection, as the group's forms solidify, everyone in the little cohort here is armed in some way.

There's movement in the village, and forms both human and not mill about. As the group approaches, several of the villagers, wary of the armed strangers, begin to disperse back toward the center of the village, or their homes. Shutters begin to close.

Along the muddy path, a strange, solitary figure approaches, walking a strange, uneven gait.]

Oh no... Not this.

[That's not the memory of Maria, that's the "real" one, standing alone on the muck-strewn path. She's stock still and rigid, like if she doesn't move, this memory (and she knows what it is now) won't continue to play out. Or maybe it'll be different. Maybe it won't be as awful as Maria remembers in her nightmares. From in her mind, something new and turbulent emerges: grief, guilt, and despair start to bubble up from between sudden cracks in the ice that usually protects her mind. A flood that can consume and drown if it's not stopped.

And likely, it won't be.]

"Travelers. What brings you to our... village?" [The individual from the village speaks first, after a greeting wave from the leader of the group of Hunters. His voice - and it is male, for all it is definitely not human - sounds like he's trying to say words with a mouth not quite made for what he's speaking. The pause is enunciated with a strange burbling noise, like air burbling out of a hole in his throat. Or, more likely, gills.]

"Greetings!" [And it's not the older man who speaks, first. A younger one - just about Maria's height, actually - steps out from behind the two Hunters leading. He has a fervent air about him, an earnestness in his eyes as he studies the fish-man ahead of them. The younger man leaves the company of another: a horse-faced young man with a wild mane of hair, and a broadsword slung across his back. The first of the young men speaks again, in introduction.] "We hail from Byrgenwerth College, near the city of Yharnam! We come because we've heard of a curiosity in this place: a Great One in or near your shores. We're here to interact with it; perhaps study it. Commune, even, if it will let us."

[If the fish-man's face could be seen outside of his hooded shawl, perhaps he would be frowning at the statement. He pauses, long enough for the same sentiment to carry across.] "No... bloodless outsiders are allowed near Mother Kos. Return from whence you came."

[There's something suddenly freezing cold about the young man's smile as it stays upon his face. A few raindrops begin to fall, blown ahead of the storm front on winds that are beginning to pick up. The Hunters begin to mill, a bit uneasily, a few, including Maria, edge their hands closer to their weapons.

In the village, movement again. A scant handful of the villagers have returned - armed with harpoons.] "You misunderstand our intentions. We weren't asking you. Especially after what happened to our previous companions who attempted to contact you and your Great One. Now, step aside."

[The young man brushes past the fish-man, who makes no real move to stop him, but a strange, burbling growling noise. The other Hunters pass, as well, each eyeing the creature warily, but when it's clear he has no intention to attack any of them, they simply pass without incident.]

... No... no, don't go in there... [For a moment, Maria forgets about Giorno, forgets about the mirrors, and the dreams, and she steps forward, one hand reaching out as though she can physically restrain the group of Hunters as they approach the village proper. As though she's some kind of squealing teenager in a theater watching the most viscerally relatable horror movie she's ever seen, and like she can talk to the actors, stop them from walking right into the killers' trap.

Except, as she knows, it's going to end very, very differently.]