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

[killuwatt]

[ He has endured. So much more than this, and alone--

But it was easier alone. It was easier when he didn't care. It was easy when all he needed to do was listen to what he was told, carry out his job, be the perfect little prodigy his family wanted him to be so that he could continue waking up every day with nothing in his heart but the desire to kill.

His instincts may be as sharp as ever, his training just as ingrained, muscle-memory drilled in to know exactly how to strike so fast few had even the chance to see it coming, but none of that is the same as desire. He doesn't want to kill. Especially not Gon. ]

G-go... you have to get... out of here.

[ Killua growls between heavy breaths and the dull thud of his head crashing against the wall again, and then again, until the red blossoms like petals on the stone. He feels dizzy, spots dancing black and white across his vision. Good. If he can just knock himself out until-- ]

Khh!

[ Killua's teeth snap together, the taste of metal on the back of his tongue. His eyes water.

But it's not the pain.

The warmth burns in his chest, almost painful. The echoes of the emotions Gon is trying to project catch in his throat. The touch of his hand feels fever-hot, lancing like lightning up his half-numb arm. ]

Gon... Gon, dammit... [ Killua hisses past his clenched teeth, fingers suddenly gripping Gon's hand, hard.

He has to go. Or, at the very least, Killua has to convince Gon he's got to knock him out. It terrifies him, feeling this out of control, even more than the voices clamoring at the edges of his consciousness. After all, logically, Killua knows it's not real, that he's just very sick or cursed or whatever the hell they've done to him. But logic has very little bearing on his actions when he slips.

He opens his mouth again, about to insist, but Gon doesn't let him get a word in. In his own, characteristic way, Gon barrels ahead just as he's always done. Says the first goddamn thing that pops into his stupid head.

Killua's fingers tightening around his hand are going to make Gon's joints creak. ]

Y-you... what?

[freecshow]

Killua!

[Gon's cry is brittle and watery, clearly exasperated and distraught. he knows what Killua's trying to do, and he has to restrain himself from jumping forward to yank him forcibly from the wall—but that'll trigger an attack for sure. Gon's shoulders lurch before he stops himself, and he grits his teeth. he's not strong enough to knock Killua out, either—or rather he is, but there's no way Killua wouldn't get him first.

he holds his ground, and Killua finally stops.

Gon had anticipated that Killua may break his hand or worse, which is why Gon has conveniently decided to use the same injured arm to touch Killua. true, even lifting it is pretty painful, but like Killua, Gon's been through so much worse. it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, of course. in fact, Gon winces with a little hiccupped gasp when Killua grips like that, wincing a little, teeth clenching. the fact that his radius is broken is certainly the worst of it.

he takes a couple heavy, scattered breaths, forcibly evening his expression to maintain eye contact with Killua's distorted form. Gon wonders if he should feel a little bad—saying something like that to distract Killua. it's manipulative. but it's not untrue, either. it's sat with Gon for years, further to the tip of his tongue the closer they've been getting—but it still had felt sort of strangely forbidden to be direct about.

now, though, Gon knew it might keep Killua distracted. no matter who the person, that kind of thing can be a little shocking, maybe grounding. also, Gon figures, if he fails, and Killua murders him, Killua probably won't survive long after that.

so now's as good a time as any, he guesses.]

I love you. So there's no way I can just leave. I'm sorry.

[killuwatt]

[ It works. If Gon is trying to distract him, keep Killua focused on himself and in the moment, he's succeeding. At least for now.

Killua grips his hand like it's his life raft to reality, clinging to the tenuous connection that keeps the nightmares and the darkness at bay. He stops trying to slam his head into the wall.

He just stares at Gon's face for a long time, breathing fast and loud in the silence between them after Gon repeats those words. Killua clings to them like he clings to Gon's fingers, painful and shaky, hard enough to hurt them both. Tears well in his blackened eyes, making tracks in the dirt and blood smeared across his cheeks. ]

You really are... a selfish idiot...

[ Killua sniffs, then coughs, wracking and wet and making his whole body and Gon's injured arm shake. The echo of the pain glances off his own, a dulled reverb between them. But they're both used to pain. The coughing turns to gasping, which turns then into laughter, thin and weak and disbelieving. It hurts too. His vision swims. ]

You picked a helluva time to blurt something like that.

[ With a yank of Gon's injured arm, Killua suddenly drags him forward, embracing him tightly and burying his filthy face into Gon's hair and fuzzy ear.

He should have known better. He should have stopped himself. But he can't. Not anymore.

Not after Gon said something like that.

And if the blackened beast inside him purrs in satisfaction as he gets the chance to smear his tainted blood onto Gon in return, then so be it. Gon wanted to distract him. He's distracted, very well. ]

[gynvael]

[ Texting him is a solid idea in theory. The unfortunate reality is that Geralt only remembers that his watch exists half the time. In the middle of a fight, it's entirely escaped his mind. What leads him to the two boys instead is scent: under the sickly sweet rot of the Cwyld, enough lingers that he can pick out a trail that belongs to Killua. He hopes, in any case.

It leads him in a roundabout path. Most of the cages are empty when he gets there. He can't find the kid in it, which is either a very good sign or a really fucking bad one—but the trail keeps going. He follows it down a smoky hall, littered with blood and bodies and pitch dark stains in the wood. Murmured voices behind the door tell him exactly who's in there: if he hears snippets of the conversation, he's not bothering processing it right now. There are more important things.

Geralt throws open the door. His relief at seeing the two of them is short-lived. They both look like shit. Killua, especially. They've fought together enough that he knows it's not easy to get him in that bad shape, and the sight pierces ice into his blood. It's familiar in too many different ways. ]

Hey. [ He says nothing about Gon being here when he'd told the kid to stay home—it's too late for a lecture at this point—but his expression suggests he's not thrilled. He crouches down next Killua. Look, he's certain Gon doesn't want to let go of his friend, but they can hug outside. ] Let's get you up.

[freecshow]

[Gon realizes the danger, somewhat—he knows how contagious the Cwyld can be. the breaking of his arm and the crushing of his hand was probably already a bit of a risk, but even Gon realizes the risk of this embrace.

he can't fight Killua off. he's not quick or strong enough to knock him out. Gon either dies violently by Killua's hand, an event that, were Killua saved after the fact, Killua wouldn't have a high chance of surviving. and even then, it's too easy to imagine, even sluggish and addled as Killua is—he'd tear down many more people before he was safely restrained and rescued. or, he'd be taken by the cult again.

but this is the same, isn't it? the Cwyld is a slow death, Gon thinks, and in that duration, Gon may defect similarly. either way, Killua still runs risk of being reabsorbed by his captors. but it's not as though Gon will die instantaneously, he reasons—maybe he can take the brunt of the risk of transmission to mollify Killua. the chances are as slim as they are dark. or maybe the infection doesn't spread so easily... maybe there's still a chance he can keep Killua lucid, take him away from the other people at risk of his current state, manipulated into violence. again.

Gon's always wanted to protect Killua from that. from being utilized this way. being weaponized. but he just isn't strong enough, anymore. and barely was he ever.

Gon, even with his mangled arm, returns Killua's embrace, tucking his face against the dirty crop of Killua's hair, holding him around his shoulders. in the end, it's true: he's really only just selfish. Gon's eyes sting and wet with tears, murmuring an apology against Killua's head.

—then Gon jumps with Geralt's intrusion, and he blinks his wide, disbelieving eyes. he knew there was a chance they might run into each other, having the same objective, but the timing is startling. he hopes it doesn't agitate Killua into a flipped switch. he's tempted to tighten his embrace to contain him, but thinks the result might be similar.

as Geralt crouches down, Gon's heart hammers in nervous terror.]

Careful, [Gon cautions him quietly, then looks back at Killua. carefully, as Gon leans back, he cups the side of Killua's cheek in a gentle palm.]

Hey, hey, Killua... let's go home, okay? Somewhere a little quieter for your head.

[killuwatt]

[ Killua senses another presence even before Geralt speaks, but he's so addled and distracted, he doesn't recognize who it is immediately. His first instinct, suddenly, is to tighten his arms around Gon, harsh and possessive though it's probably meant to be protective, even if everything's all twisted right now.

His head snaps up, so Geralt will get a full view of his blackened eyes, the dark tendrils shadowing his face. His upper lip peels back in a snarl -- uncharacteristic and strange, considering Geralt has seen him fight a handful of times now with the cold precision of a professional, even when he'd been upset over Gon's absence.

Gon will have to be forceful in order to lean back, and Killua refuses to let go of him entirely, but after a moment he loosens his grip just enough to allow Gon to move. It's that movement that restrains Killua and keeps him tenuously grounded, as his focus shifts to the feeling of Gon's warm palm on his cheek.

It's difficult to tell when the whites of his eyes are so darkened, but his vision flicks between them for a few moments. His mouth works, opening and closing several times, as suddenly his throat goes dry. ]

Geralt.

[ It's a good sign. Killua recognizes him.

The bad news is that he also suddenly remembers what he did. ]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt backs off, letting Gon take the lead—though his gaze keeps drifting to the doorway, pointed ears swiveling with every breath and step that passes by. The acrid smell of smoke lingers in the air.

When he looks back, Killua is staring at him. His shoulders are tense. He's known the boy enough to understand he's unpredictable at times—a state he's not willing to fuck with when everything else out there wants to kill them, too. Only when Killua says his name does he relax a hint.

Still lucid, then. ] It's me.

[ He tips his head, glancing back at Gon: a clear indication that they need to go now. If either of them have more to say, they can save it for later. ]

[freecshow]

[Gon isn't wholly surprised by Killua's possessive pull on principle, but is taken off guard by it, and he feels himself initially grow a bit worried. but when Killua relents, Gon's shoulders drop.]

Yeah.

Geralt was worried too.

[Gon gently moves his hand from Killua's face to his wrist, then as soft as possible to make his intentions known—that it's a nice and affectionate touch, not a coercive, commandeering pull—Gon holds Killua's hand. he gives a little rub across the tense cords of his hand using his thumb. Gon tilts his head, moving his body a bit to suggest they move forward.]

Killua, let's go home?

I can draw you a bath—we still have lots of the lavender salts. It'll help with the pain. Then you can rest. We can share a bed, and I won't nag you about sleeping in. Okay?

[Gon, of course, knows that they aren't going home at all. he hopes Geralt realizes that too, though Gon sounds wholeheartedly sincere. he knows that if he hesitates or doubts even slightly, Killua, even in this state, might pick up on it. but there's nothing that can be done about it—Killua needs professional attention.

and first, out of here.]

Let's get out of this awful place.

[killuwatt]

[ Gon's heart is in the right place and his efforts are well-meaning, but Killua's doing his best to cling to lucidity right now-- for however long that lasts. The good and also bad news in that respect is that he's taking stock of the situation and the gravity of it. How infected he is.

He swallows roughly, trying to calm his stuttering breathing. He knows Gon is lying. But it's... sweet. The sentimental, stupid idiot. Killua shakes his head, looking down to hide the tears he's trying to blink away. ]

Let's... [ he agrees for now, voice rough and scratchy. He lets Gon pull him to his feet, jaw tightening at the effort it takes; he gives no other sign of how much it actually hurts, though he never does. ]

But...

[ Glancing up at Geralt again, Killua is hit once more by the image of Jaskier, shouting and shoving and bleeding beneath his claws. His nostrils flare, pulse spiking, and he has to struggle again to keep his breathing in check. He can't afford to get lost in the guilt and the memory of it right now, not when he knows the darkness is lurking, waiting to drag him back into that mindless place. With Gon's hand squeezing his, he feels only barely grounded, and clings to it desperately. ]

G-Geralt... Your friend. The annoying one. You found him? He's... is he okay?

[gynvael]

[ Once they're on their feet, Geralt takes point. Gon seems to be the one thing keeping Killua together. He's not going to interrupt that.

It's only a little less chaotic out here: more fire, fewer corpses, even fewer of the living. He dislodges a door hanging by its hinges, stepping aside so Gon can help Killua through.

Only when he hears Jaskier's name does he look back. Right. Jaskier had implied as much—that they'd been held together. The way Killua's heart stutters, though, Geralt can't help sensing there's more to it. His gaze is scrutinizing.

In the end, he doesn't ask. But the reply he gives is meant to gauge an answer. ]

He asked me to come back for you.