Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution p1

[faileas]

Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution Part 1

I. The Freedom Festivities Behind the fortress-like walls of Dorchacht, what was once a gloomy, imposing city is lit up for the festivities to come. Septeril brings with it many mixed emotions for the citizens of what used to be called The Black City, though the overwhelming atmosphere is positive - this is a celebration of freedom hard-earned and prosperity hard-fought-for. The triple stars of the Resistance, now the current reigning party, feature heavily in decorations and in clothing: in pins, on hats, golden stars enchanted into fabric to dance merrily across skirts and cloaks. Stars light up the streets in decorative strings hung from lamppost to lamppost, flickering gently over the cobblestones. Mirrors, as well, feature into the decor, tiny round ones hung in multitudes from awnings and in windows like ornaments, catching the light and playing it across the otherwise-utilitarian architecture, lending it a sort of understated beauty. Much of Dorchacht has been rebuilt and repurposed by necessity since the uprising last year, and many new small businesses and restaurants are being featured at the festival - their goods or their foods on display in markets of street-side stalls or on the feast tables. Local handmade wares and crafts are out for sale for modest prices, and every sale helps out both the small business, many of which are started by former slaves, and helps the local economy, which is better these days but still recovering. The festivities go for six days, almost a full week, with feasting and bonfires every evening, and tours and tales of the city by day, as they display the changes for the better they have all made. And then, on the final evening, all are invited to watch a grand fireworks show that will be put on in the skies over Dorchacht, presided over by the Circle of Three themselves. Mirrorbound are welcomed warmly, whether they were present last year or not, and treated much like family - get ready to be pulled into activities and plied with food left and right. a. Join the Fun The children of Dorchacht are out by the dozens during the festivities, excited by all the freely-offered, special sweet treats and the magical sparklers and poppers being handed out by the fistful. The poppers explode when thrown to the ground in bursts of bright colors, completely harmless, and the sparklers are enchanted not to burn little (or big) hands if mishandled. Mirrorbound passing through may find themselves roped into elaborate pretend games of revolution by eager faces: the children name themselves either Resistance members or Mirrorbound, and 'do battle' with their magic fireworks against scarecrow-like constructions cloaked in dark bed sheets as 'the bad guys'. Depending on one's perspective, it may seem dark, but this is what these children have known very recently in their lives, and their caretakers or parents (there are more of the former than the latter, especially for the young Monsters) let them play as they will. If asked, they'll just explain that some of those kids even remember the fighting when it happened; this is just another way that they try to understand how the city has changed. More organized, family-friendly reenactment performances are also common, with several of the orphanage groups putting on small plays about the uprising, or moral plays about kindness and togetherness between Witches and Monsters. This includes a prominent set of performances by the Mirrored Hearts Home for Children - maybe you're helping out with their sets or costumes, or maybe you assisted with their scripts and songs. Those Mirrorbound volunteers will want to see the kids do well, right? They'll be heartbroken if you don't show. Of course, kids aren't the only ones doing reenactments. The newly formed Dorchacht Historical Society, dedicated to protecting Dorchacht's history going forward, puts on several - and may drag in passers-by to play different roles! Only the luckiest are begged to play the role of The Dragon, who valiantly rose up against their cruel former master, Morgana, and helped lead Dorchacht to where they are today. b. Forget-Me-Not While the overall air is celebratory, among the adults who are old enough to understand just what was lost as well as gained, there is an undercurrent of sombre remembrance. Many visit the burned-out Old Coven, left as damaged as it was when the fighting ceased, as a monument to how freedom fighters suffered and fought. Plaques dot the grounds and buildings there seemingly at random, until you realize that each metal plate bearing names is laid where someone died. To decorate these plaques, and homes and businesses as well, there are tables set up in the yard of the New Coven, heavy with a rainbow of small magical flowers called Forget-Me-Nots, and the supplies to make remembrance wreaths. In this new tradition, the flowers are chosen with a dead, missing, or simply absent loved one in mind, and woven together with glass beads, small wooden charms, and a spell written on a slip of paper. The enchanted fragrance of the Forget-Me-Nots allows whoever smells them to witness short, happy memories of the person the wreath was made for - whether they knew that person or not. The memories come from the wreath-maker, and are only short flashes (less than a minute long) or mere impressions, but all are pleasant or warming. With the spell woven in, they'll last for an entire year without wilting or losing their effects, a souvenir from the festival to take home. Mirrorbound are encouraged to join in, and make wreaths of their own, whether or not they lost someone in Dorchacht's uprising. It can be for someone who has disappeared from Geardagas, someone who died long ago, someone living they miss from home, anyone who is not currently with them.

II. The Uninvited Guests On the 25th, the final day of the celebrations, the partying lasts all day. Food and drink are abundant on every corner, upbeat music is played by street performers and over the radios that can be found in nearly every household and shop, and the bonfires have been enchanted to let the flames take fanciful shapes. Drinking games and dancing, storytelling and general partying all last clear into the evening, but once dusk falls, everyone gathers in the center square of the city for the fireworks show. The Three are there - the Witches Bryn and Hilda, and the Monster known as The Dragon, Starlight, or formerly Fafnir - with Nessie and Mhairi as guests of honor, and Hilda is the one to set off the first enchanted fireworks, after a brief speech thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate a year of freedom and independence with them. It's with bursts of colorful light in the night sky behind her that she seems to appear from nowhere: tall, dark and imposing, a sharp-eyed Witch that exudes power. Morgana Drummond is not alone, either, flanked by a dozen rough-worn Witches and a host of others. The chaos that ensues is immediate and violent. "All of this for me?" Drummond sneers. Attacks bounce off her, no matter how powerful - even Nessie's considerable spells. Witches will be able to sense the strong barrier spell close-fit around her body, and the others around her will not let Monsters get close. It's The Dragon who speaks, voice rough from disuse but loud enough: "How dare you return here-" "I built this city in all the ways that matter. I was never going to let you have it. You burned away my Dorchacht, so now I will make sure there is nothing left of yours but ashes." a. To Sleep, Perchance Unreachable, Morgana Drummond's form limns in a sickly violet light, the circle of a spell forming beneath her feet, steadily growing as her power gathers. So much magic gathered in one spot is bound to be felt by all the Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster alike, oppressive in nature as if it could steal the breath from your lungs. Perhaps it truly was a fluke that she was driven from Dorchacht, a happy accident caused by a timely distraction. The spell circle spreads, glowing, until it envelops the entire city, and it pulses once, blinding, before it sears itself across Dorchacht's streets and buildings in burnt lines and symbols. The fireworks continue to pop and burst overhead, casting shadows that seem suddenly sinister. Nothing happens for just a moment - and then all the people of Dorchacht collapse in waves. Next to a stunned Nessie and furious Mhairi, Bryn, Hilda, and the Dragon fall into a heap as well, the final three bodies to hit the ground. Mirrorbound and citizens of Aefenglom do not fall prey to the sleeping spell despite being in its area of effect. It happens in the span of just a few minutes, and then Morgana is gone in the blink of an eye, leaving her people to sow terror on the sleeping city. b. Battle on the Streets While she brought with her only a dozen Witches from her former Coven, she's collected a force in the Wilde. Blank-eyed rogue necromancers, mind controlled the way the Monsters of Dorchacht used to be, storm the streets controlling in turn their dead Monsters and creatures. A few even have with them dead Nuckelavee, which will require multiple fighters to take out. Wilders from Dorchacht gone missing on expeditions in the last year bear the signs of mind control as well - the ones who aren't dead, shambling around the necromancers. Maybe you recognize them, maybe you don't. Maybe you can help them, or maybe you can't. The mind control enchantments can be dispelled with a lot of effort or with the specific spells used often by the Resistance a while ago, for those who still remember it. In the slums of Dorchacht, the people who were convinced of Morgana's return, those who want to return to the days of slavery and terror, break free from the now-sleeping guards and failing wards that kept them contained and join the fighting, manic in their glee. The spell that put the rest of Dorchacht to sleep seems to slip right off them, perhaps sensing their loyalty to terrible causes. It is chaos, as the insurgents set fires and attack at will with magic, claws, weapons, anything they have. Mirrorbound will soon realize that they and the visitors from Aefenglom are not the only targets. The sleeping people of Dorchacht are ripe for the killing, unable to react or defend themselves. The fighting will continue into the night until the invaders are all dead or captured.

III. The Aftermath When the fighting ends, the work begins. An entire city deep in the throes of an enchanted sleep is a worst-case scenario that none of them could have predicted, even those who had a hunch Morgana didn't die out in the unexplored Wilde. Miss Nessie and Mhairi will remain on the scene helping to direct the aid efforts in the aftermath of the battle. Fires must be put out, corpses must be rounded up to be buried or burned, captured attackers must be secured and questioned, sleeping citizens must be whisked from the streets to safety and shelter, and buildings ensured to be safe in the meantime. Aefenglom's Coven are called in to assist, anyone who is available, and Mirrorbound help is more than welcomed. They will need everyone they can get to make sure not all is lost in this tragic attack. Nessie herself will ensure the Three are taken to safety in Aefenglom until the people of Dorchacht can be woken. Action needs to be taken quickly. Morgana needs to be found as soon as possible, and capable hands will be needed to search the Wilde far outside Dorchacht, the most likely place for her to go. More urgently, however, are the sleeping citizens. Nessie announces late the next evening, the normally-bubbly woman gone solemn and serious: "I believe I've found a counter-ritual for the spell that nasty woman used, I have. I will need your help, though, Mirrorbound. Volunteers only, of course, of course, as it's likely to be quite dangerous, though the Dreamers and I will take every precaution we can. Discuss among yourselves, decide if you're willing. Those who are, meet at the Coven at midnight on the 27th. It's not right to just leave them all like that, not right at all..."

Welcome to September's event log, Part 1 of The Price of Revolution! This event will continue in the TDM posted on the 21st, with a foray into purposeful dreamwalking. It will be a hybrid test drive and event that current characters will be allowed to top level on as well. Quests into the Wilde to search for Morgana will currently bear no fruit beyond small clues, but Part 2 in early October will deal with her whereabouts and her final fate. As always, direct your questions about the event HERE! And finally, for those who are wondering what's up with Dorchacht, we have a Setting update for you.

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[glitzandglamour]

[Frame of reference: Wilders after close encounters with Nuckelavee; Emet-Selch bleeding out. But before they can get much further, Mettaton gasps. His ears rise tall and lean for Mikasa, then fold back in a muted sort of worry.]

Wait. Mikasa... What happened to your Bond with Tendou? I thought you were dating!!

[Somehow, he's more ready to assume something just happened to their Bond/relationship.]

[stopfen]

[Honestly, yeah. Mikasa was torn. On one hand she wanted to know what was going on with her body, but on the other... Maybe it was better not to think about it. It wasn't as though she'd just dropped dead yet.

It was a good job Mettaton was a robot in some ways. Because his poor spine. He'd almost have to bend at a right angle to meet her eyes, not helped by her slumping onto her crutches as she realised what was coming.

She turns sighing, starting the small plod to the medical tents that had been set up. A weak cover from dust and smoke, but it'd do for him to look at her wounds.

The fae sagged even more. The crutches stuttering on the ground as she stopped.]

Gone. [And that's it, one whole word before she's moving again.]

[glitzandglamour]

[His long ears rise taller than before at her response, so clipped as she turns to move. He's getting better at reading the language Mikasa talks in, how she gets short and avoidant if something doesn't sit well with her or strikes her heart in a way more saddening or negative. It's the physical cues that suggest something more wrong than it seems.

Mettaton wanders after her with only a moment spared for silence, mulling it over, until they reach the presently-unused medical tent at Mikasa's speed. (Mettaton slowed for her, which he hadn't been doing much of, earlier on.)]

He's... Gone. [He repeats it softly, as though trying to process this. ...With the recent loss of Papyrus to the mirrors, it's not a stretch when he presses,] You mean... the mirrors beckoned your Bondmate back?

[Alliteration unintended, just usually artful way of Mettaton's speaking... He seems to be taking this with a measure of gravity, at least, eye wide and smile dissolved.]

[stopfen]

[She keeps moving to the tent without looking. But was that really a surprise? That she was avoiding looking at him properly. Even if she spoke, she kept her head ducked.]

I guess. It was the middle of the night. I noticed something the moment he went... [If he'd been beckoned like Mettaton said, she didn't know. It hadn't felt like it had when he'd returned for a little while and came back.

But with them reaching the tent, she turns, shuffling so she can sit on a crate. She didn't need to do it so he could reach her wounds. If anything it made it harder for Mettaton to reach them with the differences in their heights. But she was tired, too tired to talk about this and remain on her crutches. They get leant against the side.] It's...It's probably for the best. He'd have wanted to be at the festival.

[He would have liked it. The colours, the music, the plays...She could see him playing hero with those kids. But he wasn't much of a fighter. He could dodge well enough, he had good reflexes but...]

[glitzandglamour]

[No, it wasn't too unusual for Mikasa to avert her gaze. But hustling on off to the meditent at the prompting of her Bondmate felt intentional to Mettaton.

Or he's reading into it. He can do that.

The Puca follows her at this much slower pace and kneels down to her when she sits, for their height difference is steep enough to warrant that. He sets some of the supplies he'd gathered next to her leg upon the crate so she could see what he'd helpfully procured.

His ears lower somewhat. She has a way of talking that, despite being short-spoken, reaches his heart.]

I see. I'm sorry, that he's returned so suddenly like that... [Mettaton was sure that were Tendou not gone, he'd be happy at the festival, then. But everyone here was put at risk. Still, even Mikasa was fine; surely Tendou would be, too.] Well... Did he have big dreams to return home to? I remember you telling me he had some culinary pursuits.

[He thinks it's nicer to imagine that someone went home to something they loved, even if it's hard. But that was the sort of ambition he's sure Tendou could have also pursued here.

People don't return to the mirrors on their own accord, as he understands it. He remembers hearing Sans was here; he wouldn't have left Papyrus for this long, he's sure.]

[stopfen]

[Maybe it was both, or maybe the puca was 100% right.

With the supplies brought over she's looking. Carefully poking through, fingers only just glancing the tops of the items. Not touching his leg. Wooley puffball things, she'd need those. Then there was rubbing alochol, which was it's own issue. He'd brought more than one bottle and well... She couldn't read. So she absently squinted at the bottles. Ear giving a twitch, she was listening, even if she pretended not to be.]

I'm not sure... It sounded pretty complicated. [Her education wasn't exactly vast. People seemed to have three more rounds of education where they were from and that would have been if she'd gone to school.

All she'd had was those rainy days when mother and father couldn't hunt or do farm chores.] He was working in a resturant. But he'd been trying to open a shop that made cakes here... [There's a small pause. As nice as Mettaton's idea was, it didn't really fit. Did it.

Anyway, she was just going to open one of the mystery bottles he'd brought over. AND make the very sensible choice of giving it a sniff. Hello, are you rubbing alochol? -Annnd jerking her head back with a squint. Mettaton, what is this???]

[glitzandglamour]

[What's in the bottle, Mikasa?? It's... laudanum!

There is, of course, rubbing alcohol, and Mettaton grabs that to replace the one she's recoiling at by slipping it from her fingers, and putting the correct one there. He knew, at least, that this was a good way to start. Laudanum, he... doesn't know what that is! But it was in a place for painkillers, so surely it's relevant.

This new bottle is going to smell like rubbing alcohol.]

And he would have done well, I'm sure. [A nod with a smile, as Mettaton proceeds to prepare some of the bandages for her by unpackaging them.] He'd have made cakes this world hasn't even IMAGINED yet...!

[He doesn't know Tendou, but the style of the chocolates he saw Mikasa enjoying? They were anachronistic, compared to Aefenglom's idea of a good chocolate. They were classier, that was for sure. A cake made by someone from the "future" would blow the minds of people here.

(That Tendou was working in a restaurant suggested to Mettaton that he was someone he could step on, probably. That's just a fun aside.)]

Now. I'm not the most seasoned, with medical tasks... Besides what I've seen on TV. So I just grabbed one or some of a bunch of things!

[Still including the eyepatch! Why, Mettaton!]

[stopfen]

[Do not smell the mystery bottles... It smelled so sickeningly sweet and bitter at the same time. Not that the injury alcohol smelled much better. But at least she knew what that was.]

I think...He'd gotten a name and was looking for a store. [There wasn't a lot else to say to that, was there? She didn't know enough about cooking to fully understand. Working in a restaurant sounded important if he'd had gone to school for it. But owning a shop was even bigger.

At least, that's what she thought.

But with the lull and her newly acquired medical supplies, it was easy enough for the fae to keep herself busy. Not think too hard about her lost bond. Or what he would have done... In fact, it was probably a good thing he'd left before getting the shop off the ground in a way. Even if it didn't feel that way.]

I just need bandages and this- [Giving the little bottle of rubbing alchol a shake. The eyepatch did get picked up though, mistaken for a sling before being put down again.

Then came the awkward part. Or not... Milatary life. And it wasn't like when she'd shown Jean her budding wings. Mettaton wouldn't find anything strange about a cutesy polka dot sports bra as the fae just flung her ripped up shirt onto the end of the bed. Time to dunk some rubbing alchol on them bandages and get prodding at her cuts. Giving a small hiss as the cold stinging cloth patted at her tum.]

[glitzandglamour]

[Mettaton is a very touchy-feely person. Watching the persistent sorrow on Mikasa's face, there wasn't much he could do to just fix that heartache as much as he could try to distract her from it. That, he felt, was far more in his wheelhouse of things he was capable of. If Mikasa seemed to dip further and further into sorrow as she talked about what-ifs related to Tendou's presence here, it was time to change gears.

As he's reaching to grab that eyepatch for himself (about to make commentary about it or something, Mikasa's already proactive as it is, taking care of business. She doesn't ask him to leave or anything, not like the Warriors of Light who requested that he give them some space as they undressed, which doesn't at all faze him, but his ears do rise. Mettaton is not a Faun, either, meaning that he's not somehow hypnotized by just a bit of stripping for the sake of dealing with an injury... But he is interested anyway in watching his human friend.

Mikasa's right. He doesn't find anything strange. But what he does do is:]

Oh, the polka dots are cute, darling! [Just go straight into remarking on it with a smile! Even while Mikasa's grimacing at the alcohol as it burns.] Did you get that here?? Of course you did. Oooh, or was it a gift from someone special...?

[Sultry, Salacious, Suspicious Eyebrow Raise? He's not a Faun. But he is a Puca. (He is trying to imply it could have been a gift from Tendou, despite having left that conversation topic.) Give him a moment, and he'll also remark on how strong she is.]

not really nsfw, just half nakey wound check

[stopfen]

[Just military things.jpg. Living in the barracks for seven years did kinda kill some sense of modesty. In a few areas. It was better to be seen half-naked than die of a wound you couldn't treat.

So here she was- Half-naked, partially curled up into the fetal position, dabbing at a scratch on her abdomen with an alcohol-soaked cloth, being asked about her undies by a robot bunny man. What a fucking life it is.

There's a half hiss, half huff, her cheeks puffing slightly as she thought of which question to answer first. Only for Mettaton to answer one himself before she had a chance to.]

...No. I got it, for me. I had to get a lot of new things after the wings grew...

[She'd only arrived with the clothes on her back. And that poor sports bra, it'd literally been through the war. It'd had a good life. Surviving the rips and tears of the rumbling, then her first few months of being poor here. Then her wings had grown, she probably could fix it so it fit again. But it wasn't as if it was difficult to get clothes here.

He'd get another small noise.]

Is there anything bad on my back?

[Seeing as he was pretty much tall enough to just look over and see. She could feel a small cut, see a little blood on the back of the shirt she'd discarded. And there was only a few little cuts below the bottom of her chitin, under the little green section. A small scalding where a fireball had gotten too close for comfort.]

[glitzandglamour]

[Good on Mikasa, diverting the conversation as Mettaton curls a fist under his chin as he unabashedly appreciates being give this PRIME opportunity to admire his friend's physique in a totally un-creepy way! He's just fascinated by humans, even though she's a Fae now as well.

And a better look at her has him gasping, nearly about to say something, when she prompts him to take a look. As Mettaton leans over to get a look, he talks without thinking.]

Oh, my, Mikasa! You have quite the structured physique... At this point, I'd say every lucky lady I've seen this close has been among the strongest... ...

[He's seen a few women without their tops on, in varying states of undress, and ALL of them were ripped to some degree or another. But Mikasa... Either way, Mettaton is distracted by the injury on her back, and he leans down, hover handing her back when he remembers he ought not touch.]

Ah... You have a... It's hurt.

[Hurt somehow. He's not sure what kind of injury this is. It's not only unfamiliar territory to him, but it's also on chitin.]

[stopfen]

[Mettaton was...mostly being ignored by Mikasa as she tended to her wounds. Even if the slight gasp made her wearily lift her head. That bad- Wait no, she's slumping again going back to focus when he starts his rambling. Just MTT things.]

Yeah. I could feel something... [It was dry, but probably not intentional. She was tried. She shouldn't have been, she'd been in more dire situations. But it'd been a while now, months, had she gotten complacent with this places' peace. Or was it just that her changes made her weaker in several ways.]

It just needs cleaning and wrapping. [Probably. She couldn't see it after all.]

[glitzandglamour]

[When she says cleaning, Mettaton reflexively reaches for the alcohol she'd been holding and reaches for a sterilized cotton rag, assuming this was the cleaning she wanted. And with what they had out on the field like this... it was probably the best she'd get.

Mettaton brings his face into her view and wings animatedly.]

Cleaning, dressing? You've got it, beautiful! Consider me now... your sexy bunny nurse.

[Is this... just something he does, since becoming a Puca? The answer is yes. Mettaton sticks out his tongue cutely.

And then he presses that alcohol-soaked cloth to her burn, probably making it burn some more. Pain... the sensation of sanitation.]

[stopfen]

[That comment and him sticking his tongue out... That just makes her start to sigh again. Only for it to turn into a hiss as her body hunched up. Fingers clenching and twisting the fabric of her trousers. Wings and the stumpy second set of arms that were still growing stood on end. One nearly hitting the puca as they moved.

Then after a few seconds the sting starts to fade, her nerves getting used to it. She didn't unfurl again, choosing to stay as she was.]

...Did they manage to do anything to you?

[Probably not the most eloquent of questions, but it wasn't like he'd show injuries like other would. ]

[glitzandglamour]

[[ooc: in my last tag, "wings" was "winks", god.]

Try as the stubby arms may to thwap him, Mettaton is just out of range, so he doesn't flinch. Nor does he flinch from her hissing, applying the rubbing alcohol with due diligence. To her question, Mettaton hums a denial.]

Nope! Not even a scratch to this beautiful body of mine, fortunately. I imagine you'd be the same, had you possessed full range of motion, darling. [Mettaton didn't find them too difficult to evade. And knowing what Mikasa ha dealt with for her life... he imagined she'd be better than most.] But thank you for asking.

[Thank you, as he readily assumes this is her way of checking up on him. His free hand pats the top of her head affectionately, gingerly, carefully. He kindly avoids her antennae.]

[stopfen]

[[Ooc: I didn't even notice. Terrible]]

[Noo, her little baby bug arms. They... Really were useless, weren't they? Mikasa couldn't believe that she wanted them to grow a bit quicker. So she didn't have to wait out the itching and growing pains again.]

Such faith. [Just a sigh. Before she had time to add to that, if she'd been going to, he's patting her head. Like all those years ago when Levi had done that, her spine straightened. Head tilting back to try and see him even though he was behind her. Only this time she looked very different.

It doesn't take long for her to give up on her attempt at seeing.] ...I wonder what's going to happen.

[glitzandglamour]

[Those arms would grow in! Give them time.

But she wonders at the state of Dorchacht, and Mettaton gazes out from the entry of the tent they've taken refuge in. ...It seems chaotic out there, and Mettaton feels much safer in here with one of his friends at his side. Were he totally isolated, his answer about his readiness to combat this issue may have been different: Puca are most at home among their people, after all.

(Not to say he didn't have a streak for seeking out thrill, though.)]

I'm certain it'll all work out just peachy, darling. No need to fret.

[With that, he applies the rubbing alcohol all over again as if to get her mind off of it and onto pain instead! Rude. But the robot's making for am antibiotic salve next. Maybe Mettaton knows the barest of first aid after all.]

[stopfen]

[Like two months....

She followed his gaze. Looking out the small gap in the tent flaps, not that a tent would offer much protection if it was attacked directly.

Then he's dabbing more alcohol on her wounds. The fae's head jerking to move those wide eyes on him, not that they were wide for long. Quickly narrowing into a glare as she huffed, leaving him to it.

She wasn't worried about her own well being. She'd always found a way out before, and there was that strange teleporter that they could use to escape if needed. But he was right, it'd work out. One way or another.]