Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part II

[faileas]

Event Log: February, The Salvation of Geardagas: Part II



CW: This plot has a general content warning for kidnapping, torture, experimentation, violence, drug use (incl. aphro), infection/disease and potential death. This is entirely opt-in.

Spirited Away, Part 2 i. Hypothesis One moment, you were free. The next, you wake up in a cold, dark room with eyes on you and the cloying smell of decay all around you. Characters who have been kidnapped are being kept in the lower floor of Alder's estate, which is a labyrinth of rooms and corridors. Without exception, the way out is always either locked or heavily guarded. All kidnapped characters have been infected with the Cwyld (sometimes by proximity to botanical materials, sometimes by being directly exposed to the violent Shades they already have imprisoned) and are being used to further the Evergreen Circle's research into the nature of the plague. The details of these tests is expanded on in the plotting post and, needless to say, their capturers have very little interest in their wellbeing. They're needlessly cruel, often pitting victims against each other and forcing them to infect newer arrivals as they turn up. Subjects are allowed a few hours of sleep at a time and a small meal- assuming that they're not being purposefully deprived of either- and are locked together in cramped cells. ii. Alternative Theory Some characters, however, escape this particular cruelty in favour of something else just as dehumanising. If a member of the inner circle has taken a liking to someone, they'll take them out of the pool of tests subjects and move them into their households. Servitude is ensured by a strong enchantment that scrambles memories and replaces them with the false knowledge that they've been working there all along. These brainwashed servants might also be forced to participate in the torture and testing of the others.

Initiation The night of the initiation party is here. If you've managed to ingratiate yourself with the cult- or at least a member of rank- you'll have already received an elegant envelope with an invitation and all the details. Or maybe you stole one or put together a convincing forgery. Alder's estate is handsome, with a small courtyard lit up with strings of lights and servants at the double doors to greet guests. Inside is just as grand. The hall and ballroom are impressive spaces with vaulted ceilings painted with elaborate star maps and broken up with marble columns that wouldn't look out of place in a palace. Drinks tables are lined up against the walls and there are several smaller drawing rooms off to the side, all of which are full of guests. Throughout the first hour or so, Alder himself flits from person to person, congratulating them and making smalltalk, but he seems different somehow. Excitable. Eager. Of course, there are other ways one might get in; while the front entrance is closely monitored, the side one leading through the kitchens isn’t. In the hustle and bustle, you might slip through unnoticed. i. Cavorting and Cruelty It isn't long before things take a turn. Alder takes to the head of the room and, with his signature voice amplifying enchantment, addresses his audience. He greets everyone and gives a fairly standard speech thanking guests and welcoming initiates to the Evergreen Circle proper- and then it happens. Servants begin to wheel in cages and tanks, all containing individuals infected with the Cwyld at various stages. Some look to have been drugged, others are wide awake, but the regulars seem delighted by their presence. They whisper and titter and applaud. Some of the more docile victims are even taken out to be showed off like animals at a fayre. "Tonight, let us enjoy the fruits of our labour! Witness the progress we've made and share our blessings among yourselves! Fear will only blind you to taking the next step. Indulge, open your minds and take the first step towards your salvation!" What he means by this quickly becomes apparent. While they're not discussing or mocking the imprisoned witches and monsters, the other guests are partaking of vice the party has to offer. The drinks flow freely and there's a manic energy in the air. Those with sharp senses might recognise that some of it has been artificially crafted by enchantments. Furthermore, if you're looking for missing loved ones, you'll no doubt spot them among the "test subjects" or servants. Good luck trying to snap the latter back to reality, though: their memories have been tightly sealed and it might take some work. One of the drawing rooms has been half curtained off and a woman at the door skittishly offers the curious an aphrodisiac-laden draught, though some might have accidentally had some already. Within, guests are draped over every surface in varying states of undress, though there are partitions up to allow for more privacy. What better way is there to spread the Cwyld and strengthen bonds than intimacy? ii. Midnight Show Things reach a fever pitch around midnight. Once more, Alder calls for everyone's attention. "There's one more thing. I know all of you are loyal, true believers- but everyone must be tested," he says, gesturing to several larger bodyguards, "and we have to protect ourselves. There are those who don't understand us and seek to undo our work. Therefore, we need to tie up loose ends." One by one, the least aggressive Cwyld-infected subjects are dragged from their cages and any remaining individuals are brought out, all restrained. One of the bodyguards is carrying a large ceremonial dagger, which he presses to the vampire at the front’s throat. "Rest assured, their deaths with not be in vain: we have learned much and they will make for the perfect offering to the beings who gave us the Cwyld's blessing!" The knife flashes, ready to cut already decaying flesh- - a blood-curdling scream echoes through the room and glass shatters as a Shade breaks free from its prison. It ploughs into the guests, howling with rage as it tears into anyone and everyone that stands in its way, and others soon follow. At some point during the chaos, Alder appears to realise that he’s been caught. He, along with his inner circle, set to work trying to cover up their actions, setting the basement floor alight and using magic to bring down supports to block doorways completely. If you want to gather evidence, it has to be now, else you can focus your efforts on a rescue mission or chasing the cult leader himself down.

[ ooc: More information about the event can be found on the plotting post along with comments for questions, and an IC vote concerning Alder's fate! ]

Comments

[hearthebell]

[So far tonight, L has seen no small amount of confusion and loss. As a poseur doing his best to blend in without revealing his true motives, he's doing his best to move undetected, contributing his particular talents in divination while being bleakly aware of what he lacks, as a healer. He's always been a shit healer, in fact, so poor that most are better off if he doesn't even try.

Like Howl, he's also vigilant, wary of Alder's influence.

His wide, dark eyes appear beetle-black in the dim light. His brow furrows; he's practiced at discerning fact from fiction in the faces of others, and in Howl's, he sees no lapse in his confusion's sincerity.]

Are... you here because you want to be, Howl?

[Asked carefully. Being careful is so important, at this time.]

[galdorleod]

[ That's a riddle of a question, isn't it. Howl peers at him nervously. While he is slightly off, it isn't quite the same slightly off as he's seen over and over so far this evening. Other than his flushed face, the blood witch doesn't seem any different from how he remembers - not only in appearance, but in the sound of his voice, his posture, his scent, his energy, everything.

Howl brings his glass to his mouth and takes a sip of his own drink, having resigned himself to its mild rapturing effects from the beginning. It doesn't show very clearly on his face with so many cosmetic spells in the way, though. ]

I am... although, not in the way our host thinks. [ He watches L's face closely for a reaction - he's sure the admission is safe, but it isn't a certainty. ]

[hearthebell]

[L hasn't touched a drink since realizing that initial glass of champagne had a special addition. It doesn't matter; the damage is done, and the only recourse is to ride it out. Literally, if the impulses instilled by the aphrodisiacs had their way... but if L has his, he's above base urges and casual encounters. Breaking his typical rule with Hector at a faun party need only count if he lets it... and while they were neither of them sober, at that time, the horrifying energy he's encountered tonight makes it seem so innocent and tame in comparison. The drive is to own, and infect, and invade... because that's what the Cwyld does, and the Cwyld is here.

The answering light of comprehension that flashes across his dark eyes is likely a relief to Howl, after experiencing much of the same.]

I follow.

[He speaks in an undertone.]

I'd hoped that these hidden corners could yield fruitful prospects, but... again, not the way our hosts think.

[He's a bit shaken by previous encounters, to say the least. His opportunity to try to free a mind, after all, is someone in thrall's opportunity to spread the Cwyld.]

[galdorleod]

[ The confirmation immediately puts Howl at ease. His shoulders, which had stiffened and lifted up slightly with anxiety, release their tension and relax back into place. With a sigh, he turns his head away from L and and closes his eyes to allow an oppressive feeling of relief pass through him. Not only hadn't he caught any suspicion, but he isn't being forced to put on a smile - or worse - for another acquaintance under the Circle's spell.

Damn whatever additive there is in this champagne; it's the alcohol content that Howl wants at the moment. He takes another sip as he looks back to his fellow Witch. ]

I see. I have no noble reason to be back here. I simply needed respite from... everything.

[ He glances around the small room they found each other in. On the far opposite side, a scantily-clad, mind controlled servant is pressing herself against a Circle elder. The two of them are slowly burying themselves in the lush, red velvet folds of window curtains, and seem completely oblivious to Howl and L.

Howl's eyes linger on the other pair for another moment before he decisively reaches out to drape an arm around L's shoulders and pull him close. They're probably safe way over here, but better even more safe than sorry. Nobody will bother them, looking like this. ]

...what exactly do you mean, "fruitful prospects"? [ He looks back to L. Their faces are very close, but Howl's expression is serious and he speaks in a low voice. ] Have you been... breaking spells on some of those taken?

[hearthebell]

[L draws his arms a little closer to his center. Regardless of how he's sitting or standing, there's always something a little awkward and odd about it, as though the man hasn't quite gotten accustomed to occupying physical space in spite of being a human well into adulthood.]

It doesn't have to be "noble."

[He's not judging. He's the last to judge someone who felt perhaps overwhelmed by the atmosphere at any party, much less the distinctly menacing one present, here.

He glances, with no outward pity or concern at the pair, following Howl's gaze. What's right to do in a situation that is likely compelled is obvious, but... risky, as Howl points out, then acts on. It startles him initially, and for a moment his stiff body is weightless, just pure tense explosive energy that's been perhaps looking for an outlet for a long time, tonight.

He nods, comprehending, and it starts to seep out of his limbs. A means to an end, and there are worse people to be entangled with this way. He's experienced enough tonight, to know just how quickly things can go bad.]

Yes.

[Speaking in an undertone, he nods, some of his shaggy hair brushing against Howl's shoulder.]

Some with more success than others. It depends on how deep the influence runs, and if the Cwyld is a factor... I'm no healer.

[He untangles puzzles; he has never touched something and made it more whole or healthy.

His body, in spite of being drawn close to Howl's, is angled a bit awkwardly. He's twisted at the waist in an attempt to avoid prodding Howl with a certain imposition.]

[galdorleod]

[ What a relief for the other witch to have caught on so instantly. The last thing Howl wanted to do later, after all this and however this night ends up playing out, is contact an acquaintance to apologize for inappropriate touching at the creepy cult meeting.

He sighs, letting some stress and anxiety leave him, and bows his head lower. His other arm slips around L's narrow waist to close the embrace further. The prodding imposition is no surprise and draws no reaction from him - Howl has the beginnings of his own for L to deal with. ]

Neither am I. However they are corrupting their victims' minds... it's beyond my abilities at the moment.

[ His profile is tucked beside L's, allowing him to speak quietly into his ear. It's important that they clear their heads, but if there's anything they need to discuss while they have privacy, then he wants to talk to him while they can, too. He places a kiss on his jaw, below his ear - they can't talk if their lips are busy. ]

And I thought I'd been studying enough abjuration... I guess I was wrong...

[hearthebell]

[It helps that L fully believes that true and uncompelled attraction to him is virtually impossible. If someone is getting close to him, there must be an ulterior motive; he simply assumes as much, by default. His body wilts against Howl's, an implicit apology, but it helps that the other man is taking this all in stride. It lends this highly awkward situation a certain level of improbable, relative grace.]

You haven't been here as long... even after nearly two years, a lot of this is beyond me.

[He's frustrated about it, and a little shaken from some of the tenser attempts he's made. He tries to let his breathing drop into something shallower, softer; just because this is fake doesn't mean that Howl's soft kiss isn't placed with skill, however, and it's difficult. A weaker mind could get swept up in it.]

My divination hasn't turned up nothing, but... it's difficult to do it without an individual's awareness. There's a lot to risk, getting caught by this lot.

[A nice reminder, for both of them, that their current entanglement is absolutely necessary. Perhaps more for L's own benefit, since the goosebumps raised by Howl's lips are a very real reaction. So is the shiver trickling down his spine.]

[galdorleod]

[ L may be thinking of this as fake, and perhaps for the moment, it's fortuitous for them both for him to believe that. But as Howl's lips move up his jawline, to the swirl of his ear, and then down his neck, there's nothing fake about the tenderness of each kiss or the deliberate teasing pauses between them. ]

Two years... [ he finally mumbles an answer when he reaches the crook of L's neck and shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against the side of his neck and sighs, expelling more stress and tensions with the deep exhale. Sure, this Witch isn't the most beautiful he's ever seen... but he feels dainty and delicate in his arms, and Howl likes listening to his mature, mysterious voice, and his skin is warm and smells delectable. The drug in the champagne planted a distracting need in his head. No, there's nothing particularly fake about this - not to Howl, at least.

Rubbing L's lower back, he pushes gently, wanting to feel more of that intrusion. ]

Do you... find yourself in situations like this, often...? [ as he talks, he tugs on L's clothing, pulling his collar aside to let him kiss further along his shoulder. ]

[hearthebell]

[L's a pretty good actor. Light's a brilliant one, and neither of them are strangers to playing along with something fortuitous for an alarmingly long time. Howl is alarming for a different reason; either he's a better actor than both of them combined, or some of this is coming from a place that's actually sincere, and that's a plaintively difficult thing to consider.

For L to be drugged enough to forget his own rather critical self-concept would render him dead of an overdose many times over. Even people who truly know him and love him are people he struggles to believe genuinely find him attractive, not without some ulterior motive. He's far too cynical, far too much of a realist, and Howl is far too good at this.]

Yes...

[He groans, audibly, at the pressure between their hips. Howl is biding and lavish in his affections, and as a result, very little is needed to wake and want.]

I do, in fact, often find myself in the company of far more attractive people.

[Self-deprecation works well for L; he's found that it's harder to pity someone who is self-aware.]

I usually bring my own paper bag, but I'm fresh out.

[...maybe that's a little much.No matter; L finds it difficult to shake the feeling that someone like Howl would never agree to this sober.

...still. Even though casual sex isn't something he really does, and Howl should certainly be pairing up with prettier partners, a selfish and indulgent part of L suggests that there's no reason they can't help each other out, no strings attached, all the better to unpitch a pretty distracting pair of tents.]

sry this is so late! ill backtag forever if u want to!

[galdorleod]

[ The self-deprecation works, somewhat. A heady chuckle becomes muffled as Howl's lips move back towards the other Witch's throat, but his nose rubs against the side of his neck the moment afterwards - he's trying to shake his head, but not without having to halt his kisses. ]

I won't tolerate you insulting yourself like that.

[ Might Howl not agree to this sober? Perhaps. He'd probably need more reason to be interested in L, at least, and he almost certainly wouldn't be pecking his collarbones as teasingly as he is right now. But L is underestimating how much Howl hates to hear others tear themselves down, and how indulgent Howl can be with flattery - and that's without the effects of any desire-inducing spell to deal with. If anything, he might have just motivated him to treat him even more paradoxically. This is supposed to be a distraction from this terrible party, so why not make it fun? ]

Touch me back. Don't be shy.

[ He murmurs the request against his knobby Adam's apple and follows his own advice with his own hands, sliding them from his lower back to his hips to the front of his suit trousers. The ripples in the taut cloth lead one hand directly to the prominence he's looking for; the other pulls at the fastening of his belt buckle. ]

lol same though!

[hearthebell]

[L is good at putting sex out of his mind when he needs to; it's usually the easiest option, anyway, given that his tendencies are awkward, lonesome, introspective, and melancholy. When he falls for someone, they rarely fall back. When someone touches him, it can be gentle or affectionate but rarely seeking to inspire passion.]

Nonsense. When the truth is insulting, a person is too... sensitive.

[The catch is soft and breathless, a response to the lavish attention at his sharp collarbones. At Howl's urging, he reaches toward the hem of Howl's shirt, sliding careful palms up the front of the other man's torso. His nails dig in suddenly at the contact below his waistband; he is shy when things progress this far, actually. His body retains a narrow, adolescent ranginess, poor nutrition and years cramped and curled in the dark no doubt contributing. There had also been drugs to kill a distracting libido during critical developmental periods. It wasn't an issue, before, since he knew he was likely to die unencumbered by human relationships, but since arriving in Aefenglom, he's found that he does wish for a strong, straight back and broad, muscular shoulders. A normal amount of body hair for a male his age might be nice; a larger endowment to plunge into mutual aching appetites might ease some of his shyness.

All of it's speculative, because he is what he is, and possesses what he does, and Howl is no crueler for it. That bodes well, at least. His hands circle around to the other man's back, sliding towards the top of his hips as he seeks Howl's mouth with his own. Kissing serves the same purpose as an opiate; it distracts from what's awkward or strange or painful. It dulls and sharpens the senses in all the right ways.]

[galdorleod]

[ L says that, but the touch of his hands transforms into grasping pressure in such a charmingly predictable manner that Howl barely stops himself from laughing again. ]

Mmmh... here's nothing lovelier than someone who's too sensitive.

[ What sort of sensitivity he's talking about in this instance may be up for some debate. The more delicate L's responses are, the more intensely Howl wants to tease him, hear him do it again, see how far he might be able to push it. He does understand what L might be trying to say - "own it," "when life hands you lemons," that kind of sentiment - but his approach to life is fundamentally different. No, he won't own the bad hand he was dealt. He'll use spells to turn every Two into an Ace, and everyone else's Twos as well.

And so, with the use of a bit of magic - or misuse, depending on how stuffy the person you're asking is - Howl unbuckles L's belt and unfastens his trousers in no time at all, with one hand. At the same time, he feels his impromptu partner tipping his head, searching for his lips; he tilts his head up and abruptly finds himself being kissed. His other hand pauses its teasing to slip through the unzipped fly and grasp L firmly, only the thin fabric of his underclothing preventing skin contact.

With his mouth and nose buried against L's face, he can take in his wonderful scent again - fleshy, clean, vaguely savory and salty, with the tiniest hint of blood, although perhaps his aura is blurring with his scent in Howl's lascivious head. ]

[hearthebell]

[Double entendre though it is, L prides himself on being insensitive, like a stone, colder than steel in a November downpour. People like that don't shiver or feel pain; people like that, no matter how frail they might seem in physical form, are strong.

What's stronger, after all, than not wanting, not mourning loss, feeling no disappointment for what might have been, but wasn't?

He's a liar; he's always been such a liar, and it seems like Howl has dealt with stubborn steel before. The fact that he's anything but cold rather soundly proves it. He dives into the kiss, an area where the SQUIP taught him well enough to excel by balancing techniques tender and hungry, as Howl shucks his trousers down and presses against his impudent need. His focus is laser-point, legendary; it's better if he's not thinking about the ways he is an inadequate man, and instead about the ways he can deliver with devastating precision. He's good with his mouth, better with his hands than one might expect with that finicky grip of his. And his naturally competitive drive prevents him from succumbing wholly to Howl's affectionate agitations; he wants to return in kind, compel and conquer, himself. The difference between them is in confidence, nothing more, although that seems to matter so much more than simply being beautiful.]