Event Log: April, Tangled Terrors Part Two

[faileas]

Event Log: April, Tangled Terrors Part Two

Hopefully you and your fellows have prepared yourselves for the trial that comes next, with supplies and backup, because it could be days until you see the city of Aefenglom again. Slashing down the curtain of blackened roots that bar entry to the source of all this trouble will open up access to a truly massive cavern, the ceiling of which is far, far over your heads. Unlike everywhere else in the Underground so far, slats of light from aboveground filter in through cracks in the ceiling of varying sizes, where thick, sickly roots penetrate the surface and reach down, down, down, hanging like stalactites or wrapping around the mass at the center of the chamber. There it is, the pulsing louder than ever, a steady drumbeat of unease: a beating, throbbing mass of Cwyld, easily as large as one of the bigger buildings in Aefenglom. Pitch black in color, it’s attached firmly to the coiling roots of what must be a huge tree above, leeching from it like a parasite and reaching dark vein-like fingers into the leyline. This is an ancient, well-established thing that must have laid dormant for a long time, newly awoken by the efforts to clear away infection in the tunnels close to it. With every beat of this hideous heart, the problems that plague the Underground, Aefenglom, and the Mirrorbound grow incrementally worse. It’s easier to feel out the leyline here, even for those who may not be sensitive to such things, and its poor condition is enough to fill even the stoniest heart with empathetic, deep-rooted despair - the magic here is badly tainted, the land dying all around you.

I. The Screaming Tree It’s possible to climb the winding roots up to the world aboveground, wriggling through the cracks in the earth’s ceiling. The Cwyld is deep-set here, the grass ashen gray and withered, crumbling under your feet, the plants black and twisted into strange shapes or simply dead, collapsing into dusty husks at the slightest brush. The ancient tree before you is just as dead, its branches long bare, its bark crumbling and leaving bone-white patches of the raw wood visible in the trunk. It might have been beautiful once, homey, its roots spread wide and forming natural hollows and bowers to rest in, but that was a long, long time ago. Before something terrible happened here. Look closer at the trunk, and bear witness to the faces of two dozen humanoid creatures who seem like they were partly absorbed into the tree and frozen there, their expressions a tableau of horror, fear, despair, many of their mouths twisted into screams. Men, women, there are even a couple of faces that seem so, so very young, held in place inside the dead tree by black, pulsing veins. Their long limbs are outstretched like branches, as if they’re reaching for you, desperate for help. Black, oily sludge constantly leaks from their unmoving eyes like tainted tears. The Dryads died out a long time ago, fallen to the Cwyld, that’s common knowledge, but now you’re seeing it for yourself. The pulsing mass of Cwyld below overtook this tree, and the Dryads who no doubt lived among its roots and branches. "Can thou feel their cries? The hopelessness wrought deep in their souls?" comes a larger than life voice near you, laden with despair of her own to see the evidence of lives cut tragically short. “I remember this place. It was a Dryad settlement once, long ago.”

II. Guardian's Blessing The source of the voice may be familiar to some: Creia, the guardian dragon of the earth, who was once freed from her own slumber thanks to Mirrorbound efforts; her scales are a vibrant, emerald color, evidence of her better health from her first true meeting with the Mirrorbound as a whole outside the boundaries of Aefenglom, and there's a sense of power in the words she speaks. The power that comes from long life, from an ancient being who has seen and experienced much. "Mine wings bore me as swiftly as they could," she says, settling into a sitting position in the dead grass, watching the tree with immeasurable sadness. "Thou hast seen what lies beneath, have thee not? The Cwyldheart." Her tone is nearer to disdain than sorrow, but there's a clear remorse in it as well. "I had not thought they existed still, but perhaps they merely laid dormant where my senses could not find them. This one poisons the very leyline that runs beneath thine Aefenglom." She goes on to inform all who are gathered that when she heard from you Mirrorbound that something was amiss, she came as quickly as she could to see the damage, and to try and offer her help if she can. Cwyldhearts, she tells you all, are masses where the infection is concentrated, where it has consumed a great amount of magic or lives, and when active, they cause powerful surges in infection all through the leylines they attach to. She wasn’t aware that any remained, and speculates that they hide themselves when they go dormant. This one is most assuredly active, and that means it won’t stop until it has consumed everything it can, turned every life from here to Aefenglom into an infected husk. But Creia, her talons scratching at the dead ground, and her gaze fixed on the tree, does not seem so willing to accept that. "Thou who hath been called by the world, thou hath proven thyselves capable of achieving the improbable before, have thee not? That I stand here now before thee is proof enough of that. Perhaps, should thee take heart and valor in hand, thou may be able to do so once more. Wouldst thou like to try?" In a surge of power, the ground immediately beneath her shifts, the grass changing color slowly from gray to white to green with new life, and she drags her claws through it to turn the earth, revealing large brown seeds shaped like teardrops, the size of footballs or ostrich eggs, nestled in the dirt. Despite their woody outer shells, she’s very careful with them as she offers a seed to anyone who steps forward to take one. "Each of these seeds contains a piece of my magic. Keep them safe, plant them in the center of the Cwyldheart, and add thy power to mine own. Yes, yes, those who are closer in form to myself as well, everyone with a spark of life in them can lend their voice to the chorus of this world. It will amplify thine abilities and thine hope for a better world, and enough of them should allow thee to destroy this blight for good." She casts a glance to the tree, to the frozen faces of the Dryads, something new entering her expression, something like hope. "And who knows what may happen then?" This mission is a dangerous one, but Creia sends off those willing to take it with a warm, heartfelt wish. "Thou must take care of thyselves, but be certain to take care of thy comrades as well. Thou shalt need one another."

III. Heart of Darkness You can’t put it off any longer. With seeds in hand, it’s time to venture back down below, to the pulsing Cwyldheart. The steady thump-thump, thump-thump resonates in your very bones, in the back of your brain that has your instincts screaming at you to run the other way. The twisted knot of blackened roots and veins at the center of the chamber does not welcome visitors, but it’s possible to slip through a gap between the tangles, into a darkness you’ve never known before. Whatever entrance you find closes up the moment you and your fellows step through it, and it becomes obvious quickly that either you will succeed here, or you’ll join those Dryads in the infected tree. Your Watch still works, at least - most of the time. The connection is quite spotty, and voices can come out sounding garbled and nightmarish on both sides, but with persistence, this is the only way you’ll be able to talk to anyone who isn’t on this mission with you. Otherwise, you’ll have to rely on your fellow volunteer heroes to help you through this. a. Inside the Cwyldheart The inside is much larger than the outside would suggest. Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, an easier feat for Monsters than it is for Witches, the true scope of this maze of tangled roots becomes clear. The walls move in and out like they’re breathing around you, some corridors much tighter and others feeling vast. In some, you can walk right side up, while in others, your feet remain on the ‘ground’ but the blood rushes to your head, the actual floor far below you. Time and space take on a dreamlike feeling, and you can’t tell if minutes have passed or hours, can’t tell if you’ve gone feet or miles, but Mirrorbound at least should be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality. This is all very real, and you won’t wake up miraculously fine if you get hurt down here. Negative feelings seem always at the forefront, paranoia and fear especially, filling those who venture here with the sense that they need to watch their backs. The air is thick and stale, damp and reeking of rot. The natural pathways that tunnel through the Cwyldheart like twisting arteries are lined with clusters of purple fungi, and very old, sludge-covered bones of the creatures it infected long ago. They’re rare, but occasionally blind Shades still wander within the chambers of the Cwyldheart, so twisted and mutated you can’t tell what they used to be. These are attracted to sound and motion, and by staying very still, you can generally avoid their attention. Everything in this place gets more dangerous once it gets the scent of those seeds you carry, though. As if sensing what they could do to it, it will react defensively. Protect those seeds; Shades will come after those who carry them, the roots in the walls and the bulbous mushrooms loosening and growing and lashing out. The Cwyld may sink its claws into you in an attempt to infect and consume those seeds - too much contact with the roots or the Shades may start to cause physical mutations in you, just like those mutations of the velvet wormipedes and the native creatures of the tunnels. Your limbs may change and twist, you may grow new blackened protrusions. It's painful, and disgusting, and if it goes too far, you may need to hand your seed off to someone you can trust, lest you sabotage the mission yourself. b. Heart on Your Sleeve As the hours pass within the Cwyldheart, things get… a little weird. Your sense of perception could feel off. It may feel like something is always watching you, like you have to keep looking over your shoulder every few minutes. Or you might feel utterly, utterly alone in the universe, even if someone is standing right next to you. Whatever makes you feel worse, it seems like. But then the strangeness gets more improbable, like the Cwyldheart itself wants to probe at your weaknesses, bring them out to the forefront to better get under your skin and make you lose hope in ever finding the center. All those things that have hurt you in the past, that left their marks on your mind, your soul rather than your body, surface as wounds or scars on your physical form. None of them will be debilitating or life-threatening in themselves, you won’t bleed out from your past broken heart, but they will be painfully obvious to those around you, and some may not handle that type of vulnerability well. The only thing that seems to ease the pain from these psychological wounds is talking about the events that caused them to another person, whether they be your Bonded or a total stranger, or just sharing an emotional connection of some kind. No one wants to discuss some of their worst memories or open up to a near stranger, but it might be necessary to keep yourself from being distracted or held back as you wander the maze of the Cwyldheart. c. A Helping Hand The rampant issues with Witches’ magic, with Bonds, even sometimes with Monsters; abilities, continue even here. With your proximity to the source, they are even stronger - but there is a way to alleviate the effects enough to progress. The land recognizes all bonds, even those that are unofficial, even those that are new. While you can hang on to your Bonded if you’re lucky enough to have them with you, friendships or familial relationships or a budding romance, the heat of a rivalry, or even the new and tenuous bond of two strangers brought together by mutual dangers can be used to your advantage. Physical contact with any of your fellow Mirrorbound, even just clasped hands, or a comforting hand on your shoulder, can make it easier to cast spells to light your way through the dark or fight off the few wandering Shades. It can give you the strength to use your abilities, not quite to their fullest, but better than you can use them alone. It will also help you protect those seeds you hold close to your chest. Your bonds, and your Bonds can help shield their presence from the Cwyldheart, making it safer to proceed. It’d be easy to push people away, especially bearing the physical representations of your deepest emotional hurts, but you’ll never survive that way. You’ll only make it to the center by coming together.

IV. Seeds of Hope In the real world, at least a week has passed before you and your fellows find the center of the Cwyldheart, though it may feel like only hours or it may feel like weeks to you, stuck in a place that ignores the conventions of the real world. The innermost chamber is a small space, tucked away, with sloping walls made of latticed roots littered with holes. This is the only place inside where a thin trickle of light filters down, weak, through a small hole in the ceiling. This chamber is vulnerable, all the strange defenses outside meant to protect it. The soil here is black with infection, but soft, easily dug with your hands or tools if you happened to have brought them. The perfect place to plant your garden of hope for the future of Geardagas. Once you’ve broken through to the innermost chamber, the pulsing seems to fade away, letting you think again, clearly, for the first time since you entered. The walls are still. You’ve made it this far and no more dangers will come for you. Plant the seeds you worked so hard to keep safe in the blackened soil, hold your friends tight, and plant a piece of your own innate magic with them. All your best intentions, all your joys, all your light. Let it bloom. The seeds take root quickly, and bloom they do, growing fast and strong and pulsing with magic, Creia’s bolstering your own to make something bright and brilliant. The resulting plants grow huge in a matter of minutes, twining together in harmony. Maybe you can even tell which seed you have carried, because the plant is a larger version of something significant to you, or it bears colors that represent you. They form a sheltered bower, and spread upward, pushing away the blackened walls, sinking fresh green tendrils into the bigger roots of the dead tree. The Cwyldheart crumbles around you. The black recedes. The leyline fills with fresh magic and pulses with new life. A gentle warmth wraps around you like a blanket and heals your wounds and banishes any infection you picked up. It will keep working over the next few days, the new life sinking in, banishing the Cwyld entirely from the Underground caverns and weakening its hold above. It will gradually bring life again to the ancient tree and make it bloom once more. At this point, you can stick around to watch it happen, or you can return home with the good news, and trust in what you helped to start. With the destruction of the Cwyldheart, all its negative effects will fade. Your Bonds will snap back into place and right themselves from the Dryad Tree clear into Aefenglom. You might feel the phantom ache of that loss for some time more, but the moment it’s destroyed, everyone will know that all will be well.

Welcome to Tangled Terrors, Part Two! This part takes place entirely at the site of the Cwyldheart, but anyone is welcome to do Watch threads on this log to communicate with the group they aren't part of (staying home vs expedition team). We'll be posting a small wrap-up at the very end of the month that will describe the aftermath and the rewards characters will reap for their efforts, but it won't be a full event post of its own. As always, you're welcome to use this log or make your own, and please make sure you warn for any content that might be disturbing to others! And lastly, please direct your questions here. Have fun!

Comments

QUESTIONS

[moustre]

Re: QUESTIONS

[notbert]

What can be done with the seeds? Pouring magic in certainly. But anything else? If he were to ask what price there is to adding one's voice to the chorus, is it a permanent matter or something to heal this specific infestation?

Momo | IDOLiSH7 | Witch

[yesdoubt]

[a: inside the heart/helping hand]

[Since coming here, Momo's been through a lot of unpleasant experiences that are worlds apart from the kinds he'd face back home. But this is definitely taking out a spot somewhere at the top of the list, once the group of volunteers slips into the heart and are closed off from the rest of the world.

He's carrying a seed himself - Yuki had insisted on taking one, and there was no way Momo would let him enter alone, so a seed each is better than one. And honestly, there's no way Momo would turn back at this point anyway, especially not knowing the Cwyldheart was awakened by the leyline cleansing efforts. He's the one who initially gathered numbers to bring that technique down here, and though it had helped in the short-term, he has to take responsibility for the long-term consequences it's now having. Regardless of what that might mean for him.

Though the travel group is likely close-knit anyway, Momo is particularly apt to not let his partner out of his sight in these circumstances, though sometimes his position ends up a bit further away than he'd like. There hasn't been a Shade through in a while - but the mushrooms are still aggressive to anyone holding seeds, and Momo has something of a tendency to react instinctively whether they're targeting him or targeting someone else nearby with a seed as they burst out of the wall trying to spread their infection.]

Hey--! [He initially just means to shield against it, but the magic weirdness is still in play, and what actually comes out is less a barrier and more a flash-in-the-pan slash of energy that splatters the mushrooms all over the place. He dodges most of the remains, but a few splatter onto his outer layers and a little onto one hand, and he quickly moves to check anyone in the nearby vicinity and whether they ended up splattered.]

Are you okay?

--

[b: heart on your sleeve (cw: graphic wound descriptions, major elements of self-hate/self-destructive behaviour*)]

[Momo has never been a particularly honest person, when it comes to his personal matters. Either because he thinks that other people's are more important, or because he has difficulty really trusting people with those sorts of matters unless he knows them well. It's ended badly for him more than once, and though he's fairly covered up given the nature of the mission, it begins to show through before too long. In many, many places.]

(i. travelling)

[While they're on the move, Momo's developing wounds are less visible, even if he can initially be seen rubbing at his wrists a bit before he realises what's going on and stops drawing attention to it. He's covered almost all the way up to his neck, except he's no longer wearing gloves since he doesn't want to risk losing grip on the seed at a bad time, but the most easily visible wounds appear on his upper face, up towards his hairline on the left side - some might notice that Yuki has larger wounds in the same area, if they encounter him. His neck is a little bit harder to notice, with his collar cutting about halfway up it, but the wounds that begin to unfurl at about the point his larynx would be are a raw contrast to the surrounding skin, a mess of what look like claw marks and bruising fingerprints focused on that area rather than the rest of his neck. The lack of gloves also leaves his wrists visible, bearing bruised and raw marks reminiscent of the wear and tear from struggling against chains or manacles.

While he notices the wrists quickly enough (and the itches on his neck and face are difficult to ignore, even if he can't actually see the wounds), he moves to pull his sleeves down and his collar up a bit in hopes that nobody picks up on it. The face is harder to do anything about, but if anyone looks like they're about to remark on it, he'll preempt it by turning back focus on their condition rather than his.]

Are you bleeding anywhere? I doubt I can stop it with magic right now, but I brought some bandages and dressings.

(ii. breaks)

[Of course, those aren't the only places Momo is feeling the phantom wounds, and the particularly unlucky might catch him checking on them during a rest stop, shirt unfastened and pants rolled up a bit. His ankles are showing the same marks as his wrists, and there looks like there's some kind of fissured scar down the back of his left leg - but that's not the most noticeable thing. Not only does the opening of his shirt make the extent of the neck wounds more obvious, as well as what looks like a fresh, raw burnt brand across the base of the back of his neck, distending his recently refreshed mind control warding tattoo, it reveals what Momo was probably actually checking on.

Over his heart, a knotted and extensive mass of wounds lies, another set that looks more like claw markings than anything, perhaps from something canine. However, rather than looking like they've come from the outside and into his chest, they look like they've come up and outwards from it, as if something was trying to gouge its way out over a very long period of time.

Though that has his attention enough for someone to get near enough to see, as soon as he notices another presence, he hastily covers his chest up again. The ankle and leg wounds are less of a priority than the heart one, apparently, and Momo's expression, for the briefest moment, is something sharp and defensive before he tries to underplay the whole thing with a bit of a dramatic pout.]

Can't a guy get some privacy even inside a freaky infected heart?

[[*This is kind of a specific content warning for the first line, but due to most of Momo's emotional wounds coming from his treatment of himself/other internal factors, there will likely also be allusions to self-harm in threads off this prompt, if indirectly/by association.]]

--

[c: infection (on the last real world day of the trip, cw: body horror)]

[While Momo does take advantage of holding onto his Bonds to stabilise his magic, he still has enough flare-ups akin to the earlier one with the mushrooms and a few close calls with the blind Shades going for the seed he carries that he ends up exposed to the infection. The lack of gloves really didn't help even if he considered it an acceptable tradeoff for better security holding the seed, though he's at least tried to bear as many of the exposures as he can on one side of his body.

And boy, does it end up showing. In the last legs of the trip, with him stubbornly continuing onward in the face of everything, dead-set on reaching the end after they've gotten this far, he fumbles the seed and has to shove it into his good arm as the other one spasms. Initially, it just feels like a regular muscle spasm, until a moment later when all his muscles clench and it starts to feel like something's stabbing all the way down the limb.

Being as stubborn as he is about showing that he's hurting, he manages to grit his teeth through the sensation of hot knives that goes down his arm as the skin goes blackened and hard. And then it starts to split and let out a series of twisted spines, and the very first one dragging its way out pulls an audible cry of pain along with it. Anyone who seeks out the sound, or just notices something's wrong, will find Momo having shoved the seed into his carry bag for now, to instead clamp his good hand over his mouth to try and stifle the agonised noises as the infected arm, bristling with malformed spines, distends into a longer length and envelops his hand as it forms into one long, cruel spike of bone and infected flesh. Somewhat ironically, those who've seen Momo use his ice magic might note its similarity to one of his favoured brute force attack methods of freezing his lower arm into an icicle temporarily.

The pain is blinding, and by the end of it, Momo's knees give out - his good hand stays on his mouth, the spike that his other one has turned into at least "catching" him before he faceplants, but leaving the infected arm bent at an uncomfortable and unnatural-looking angle. He's already trying to push himself upright, like he's just trying to ignore it and move on, but his legs don't want to take his weight again just yet, and the spike arm wobbles and distorts a bit. It's solid for the moment, but those cave creatures didn't turn into smears on the rock from nothing.]

--

[d: seeds of hope (cw: body horror)]

[Though he's definitely not in anything like good shape by the end of everything, Momo continues forging ahead with very little mind for his own condition but that he gets there in (mostly) one piece. And when they finally break through into the heart of hearts, it's like taking a breath of fresh air. Nothing else trying to dig at his mind, nothing else trying to attack him or someone he cares about for their seed. His infected arm is deteriorating already, flesh starting to go soft and rotten, but he doesn't need it for this - he just needs his heart, the people he holds within it, and the one good hand he can wrap around the seed as he presses it into the earth, wrapped in his own magic. Hopes, cares, the determination to make it out alive, whatever he can reach for.

When his seed blooms, it carries the scent of herbs, comforting and homey to anyone who's had home cooking done with them freshly picked. It's a scent he knows well from any kitchen in anywhere Yuki lives, and he breathes it in, lets the warmth come through him, feels his arm seem to tighten as it recedes far less painfully into the shape it should be. As the last vestiges of the Cwyldheart vanish around them, and the fresh magic starts its cleansing work, his legs give out on him again, but this time, it's in relief, the knowledge that they've managed to come out the other side.]

...We did it. [It's a few simple words, but the tears that trail from the corners of his eyes and the smile that peeks out his pointed canines is telling enough. He's glad he could help see things through for the Underground, and at this point, he can only hope this purges the infection more decisively than what their hands had done prior to now.]

--

[e: wildcard]

[[Feel free to hit me up to plot something else over at the plotting post or at reviseleviathan! I'm still up for some random Bond shenanigans, though still with the caveat that they probably won't last long.]]

cw: body horror. don't click the link if eye stuff grosses you out.

[adventageous]

I. Heart of Darkness (OTA)

[Alice's internal hurts are many, but the most insidious of them is the curse she carries. It's borne of the world's Malice collected within her lover's heart, a burden taken willingly but will ultimately kill her in his place. As she enters the Cwyldheart, the curse begins to take shape in her features in additional to her soul.

Her skin is cracked and mottled, covered with inflamed and infected eyes. The jewel in the tattoo over her heart, visible due to torn clothing, is an angry crimson as opposed to its original blue hue. It's painful and terrible, but Alice does her best to pay it no mind. The pain is the same as it was back home, before the curse claimed her, and she's suffered it before. She clings tightly to her connection with Karin, even without their Bond, and reaches out to other seed-bearers where she can.

That doesn't mean that she's not struggling. Alice is just as likely to be found slumped in a corner nursing her misery as she is proactively trying to care for others or fight back the Shades that seem to linger behind any corner. Regardless of her state, she will at least try to give a smile to anyone who approaches her.

Despite her best efforts, the smile doesn't reach her eyes.]


II. Seeds of Hope (closed to Karin)

[Breaking through to the deepest part of the Cwyldheart feels like a breath of fresh air, her mind clearing enough to appreciate the thin trickle of light--the first natural light she's seen in what feels like a lifetime. The beauty of it, even with as weak as it is, nearly brings her to tears.

As the dragon Creia had instructed, Alice overturns the soft earth at her feet and buries her seed within it. Once that's accomplished she prays, reaching out with her magic with the hopes of a safer, more beautiful world. Aefenglom holds the same place in her heart as the world she's left back home, imperfect but filled with love and joy and the best of humanity if one knows where to look for it. What she felt was a divine directive upon her arrival has become a deeply personal one. For however long she's allowed to remain, this is her home. There's nothing more that she wants than to save it from its own decay.

And as she prays, pouring the best of herself into the ground and willing it to take shape, the symptoms of her curse fade away until she's herself again. She's no longer in pain, no longer isolated, no longer suffering. It's almost funny--she had started this month the loneliest she's felt in a long time and is finishing it feeling more connected to everyone here than she ever has.

The most important of those connections flows back into her like a wave, breaking her concentration and turning her attention from the lily before her growing and blooming and intertwining with the other seeds of hope that have been planted here. She feels Karin's presence within her again, and the wave of emotions that come with the reconnected Bond bring her to tears.

Alice takes Karin's hand, giving her a watery smile.]

We've done it.

[Her hold tightens slightly, as if she's scared Karin might still somehow slip away.]

I missed you.


III. Wildcard

Feel free to hit me up at asondeiru or asondeiru#9009 on Discord if you’d like to plot, or tag in here with a starter of your own!

b. ii. + bond shenanigans; no issues with the related content

[adventageous]

[Through the fog of everything, Alice feels the telltale spike of feelings that comes with the experience of having a Bond. At first she thinks it might be her connection with Karin re-establishing itself, but she quickly rules that out due to how unfamiliar it feels. Despite her exhaustion after the day's travel (assuming it has been a day--time here has no structure or meaning), she follows the thread toward a familiar face, albeit one she doesn't know well.

He's clearly not especially pleased to see her, although he attempts to be somewhat lighthearted about it even as he covers himself. It doesn't stop her from feeling the spike of negativity that precedes his words.]

I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, I didn't see anything.

[Alice was too focused on what she's feeling to pay much attention to what he looks like, currently.]

I just followed... what feels like a Bond toward you. Do you feel it, too?

howl

[galdorleod]

( darkness - closed to jin guangyao. )

How fitting it is for the large brown seed, cradled in Howl's arms, to be compared to an egg, but the explanation for why is a bit long.

It has been two days since he and Jin Guangyao, one of his new Bonds, ventured back down into the recesses of the Underground to find the Cwyldheart. Just a few days earlier, the Wizard rushed over with an eager desire to do whatever he could to help the situation, but the oppressive atmosphere has started to take its toll on him. Still committed as he is to seeing the problem solved, he hasn't complained or asked for help and he's kept his thoughts to himself - as usual. But he can't entirely do that with Jin... not with his feelings.

As new as their Bond is, the tension in Howl's mind would start to become apparent to any Bonded walking beside him, even if the Bond was weak and temporary. Howl insists on pressing onward out of a desire to take care of the Cwyld as soon as possible, but he's clearly becoming exhausted faster than he's letting on. The perpetual darkness is starting to get to him as well, with the occasional cracks of sunlight doing nothing to cheer him up.

And maybe worst of all, as they keep walking into the afternoon, is that for some reason, Howl is becoming momentarily distracted by intense bouts of despair. It might begin with him trailing off mid-sentence, or a sudden chuckle to himself at nothing, before he stares into space momentarily as if deep in thought or miserably grief-stricken. At the same time, and perhaps relatedly, he's becoming very clingy towards the seed they received from Creia, treating it as preciously as an egg. He anxiously refuses to let it leave his sight for any amount of time and eventually insists on carrying it himself, no matter what, even though it's actually fairly heavy.

At the end of the evening, or what their watches say is the evening, something finally happens that gives the pair no choice but to confront Howl's odd behavior. As the Wizard is casting a spell to create a smokeless fire for their camp, the familiar tingle of magic on his fingertips suddenly reverses and becomes needles being driven beneath his fingernails. With a flash of light and a horrible crackling noise, Howl collapses to the ground. The seed tumbles from his arms and rolls away, out of control, into the darkness.

"J-Jin - Guah --"

Something went horribly wrong with that spell, and now Howl is clutching his chest in pain, face-down in the dirt, huffing clouds of dust from his gritted teeth. His hands and arms are burning; his whole body feels hot. It was just a fire spell! Something so simple! Something he mastered before he ever met Calcifer, and remastered within the first week of coming to Aefenglom. Where's the fire? Why does he feel like the fire should be there, even with the spell backfiring, and why does he have all this pain instead?

( shared nightmare - closed to mogget & howl's bonded. ) cw: mild body horror.

Howl knows this place. It's his uncle's cottage in the highlands where he grew up, surrounded by marshlands and snow-topped mountains. The fact that he shouldn't and couldn't possibly be here does not occur to him, as the veil of dreaming prevents his full knowledge and logic from the waking world to apply in this moment. He nevertheless steps into the grass with a vague sense that something isn't right - as if he's left behind something irreplaceable, or he said something terrible that he didn't mean, or he's been abandoned without saying goodbye.

Any interloper to this nightmare would only need to look at Howl to know something isn't right with him. The Wizard, who normally looked to be in his mid-twenties at most, is now a young boy no older than ten or eleven. His hair is black and scraggly, his cheeks are round, and his appearance is overall far more plain than when he's an adult, but there's no denying that this boy is Howl. This would be strange enough if not for the large, oval-shaped hole punched in the center of his chest, clear through, to exit out his back between his shoulder blades. The edges and inside walls of the hole are solid black, as dark as the night sky above the marshes, and the blackness fades into Howl's chemise and vest as if the whole wound were nothing more than a murky ink blot.

Young Howl descends the hill towards the edge of the marsh and the expanses of wildflowers that grow in and around it. As he walks, he stares up intently at the sky, waiting - and then a streak of light appears from inside a cloud, sparkling and tinted blue, before falling down into the water a hundred yards away. The boy breaks into a run.

"Stop them! You can't let them fall!!"

It's unclear if he's yelling at someone else (has he even noticed anyone here with him?) or trying to motivate himself. But he's panicked, not excited.

( inner chamber - open. )

He's here. He's finally HERE. The center of the Cwyldheart, all the way down in this miserable, awful hole in the ground. He's hungry, he's tired, he's aching from the bottom of his feet to the crown of his skull; he fears the worst about how he looks and how he smells; he's almost completely drained of magic. He wonders (privately) if he might actually quit being a Wizard altogether should he be forced to do something like this ever again. But he's here. They can do what they came to do, make sure everything is taken care of, and be on their way. By the end of the day today, Howl will be back at home, wine glass in hand, being sponge-bathed by his favorite Harpy escort.

Hugging the seed to his chest, he shuffles to the center of the chamber, falls to his knees, and starts to dig a hole in the black loamy soil with his bare hands. Because the seed is so large, it takes some time to create a proper hole for it, and each time he has to stop to give his sore wrists and arms a break, he looks around to anyone who might be watching him - or could have been watching them.

"What are you doing, just standing there?" he asks, pouting. "Don't just stand there and be useless. Haven't you a seed of your own to bury?" And aggressively anticipating a possible response, he quickly continues: "If you've already buried it, you can help others with their own, you know." Others being him.

darkness... imprisoning me... all that I see...

[turmoiling]

None of this is really what he had signed up for. But facing the dangers of the Cwyld, when things were this dire, is something Jin Guangyao doesn't feel like he has a choice about. Even if the mirrors could pull him back to his realm, there's no future for him there.

The temperature underground is never too oppressive either way for his cold-blooded nature, but the passage is disconcerting and hazy, even though they're both pushing on as quickly as they can. As heavy as the despair in the air weighs, he feels the fear more strongly -- nothing is right here, and his forked tongue flickers in the air more, a habit he avoids at all times when in the city of Aefenglom. But here there are all sorts of nameless and named dangers. Even when Howl begins to become possessive of the seed, Jin Guangyao can only find it suspicious, keeping his unblinking snake eyes on his Bonded.

So at the yelp, when they have settled as best they are able, he's torn between slithering for the precious, precious seed, and the safety of his new Bonded. If the pain didn't trickle down to him, he might have suspected something else was going on here...

So there's a moment of hesitation, caught between the two -- before he slides hurriedly across to Howl's side of what would have been a fire, had it worked properly. Half curling around the other man, he does his best to at least roll Howl over and brace him in the curve of the solid bulk of his tail.

Though feeling a tightness in his own chest, hopefully the close contact will help in some way in such close contact. Deciding to Bond again was convenience alone, to stave off his own fears of ferality should the other break. But it was inherently hard to keep a Bond at arm's length under such circumstances.

"A backfire?" he intuits quickly. Burning, he can feel it searing at the edges of the Bond, but there's nothing past that first spark of light, and once again he's left feeling more helpless as a monster, unable to bring half so much aid as any witch probably could. "Breathe, slowly. You're not on fire," he urges soothingly, trying to tamp down his own rising fear again. "

Rude | FFVIIR | Dragon | OTA

[grandspark]

I. Heart of Darkness

[He had come this far, he wasn't about to quit now. Despite the dangers to the dragon, Rude refused to not take part in the final push to defeat this damned infection. So without hesitation, the Turk took a seed and headed down into the darkness. He was used to guarding things with his life anyway.

Down below things became intensely weird. Walking was a chore, flying was even worse, for he never knew which way the gravity was going to flow. The path was treacherous due to the infection along the way and the still wandering feral beasts as well. Not to mention the occasional Shade to stealth past.

What he still hated the most was the paranoia and dread that came from this waking nightmare, and all while randomly bonded to complete strangers. His Bond with Reno was faint but it kept him going truth be told. For everyone else, he wouldn't apologize but sorry if his emotions were thin for once. It was hard going down here. He did his best to remain his usual, stoic self though.

As for scars... Rude had plenty of those already. Most of them were from fights though--large, epic battles with great monsters and small melee skirmishes with all sorts of criminals and terrorists and random people alike. There wasn't much emotional baggage with such things for a person like Rude. He left most of that behind once the job was done. A few, however, left deeper scars on his psyche when he didn't agree with something. The bombing of the Sector 7 Plate was one, the most recent event from back home in fact, and though he tried not to think about it even he hadn't approved of the method. He hadn't suffered any permanent wounds from that night but it manifested down here anyway; as burn scars, deep and thick and shaped like a pillar with lattice work to keep a large structure from collapsing. It would be hard to spot though beneath his clothing. Mostly, it caused him to itch and thus scratch at his scales a bit more than usual.

As for other types of emotional scarring there wasn't much of note except for a bleeding heart effect. The guy never had any luck with the ladies and a few stood out among the rest. Heartbreak. A damn romantic at heart. The stickiness of blood was a little easier to notice than the scaring--it made his shirt damp and darkened the deep purple even further. That, too, he kept rubbing at in annoyance.

He ignored all of that quite well--or maybe he talked it away with someone along the way. Either way, he kept going as though he were a machine that had one purpose: to get down and plant the seed.]

II. Seeds of Hope

[He hadn't been expecting it to be this way. The feelings of dread and paranoia and other dark thoughts faded with the sudden stillness and quiet of the inner chamber. It was a huge relief.

And yet the dragon hesitated at first to do much more than stand and watch as others began to bury their precious seeds. He held his in his arms now, tucked protectively against his chest, and though he knew what to do next he did not make a move to begin for a long while. He may have needed encouragement first.

The soil beneath his feet was horribly infected and--perhaps terrifying. Not that it showed on the outside. Eventually though he moved and with swift movements he dug a hole to bury the seed within. And afterwards made haste to wash himself up as best as he could with what he had access to.

But all that brief drama aside, the task was finally finished, and the mission was complete. They had accomplished the goal they had set out for. As the seeds began to grow unnaturally fast into sprouts and the strange bonds began to fade...Rude let out a slow breath of relief. All he felt now was Reno and that was how it was supposed to be.

He didn't avoid anyone who had temporarily been his bondmate for the duration down here, but he didn't seek them out either. He watched as the seeds grew into large, full versions of various plants and knew exactly which was his by the familiar sight of a plant back home. It wasn't particularly telling--it was just a type of lily, really--but for him it was obvious.

He didn't linger too much beyond that day. He'd started off this whole investigation with a newfound enjoyment of caverns and cave tunnels--only now to be sick of them. It was time to leave this hellhole and hope the best for it. From afar.]

III. Wildcard

[[Sorry, these prompts may kind of suck. They're intended to just be very open ended so any preference in action or trauma or both can be taken as wanted. If you have any ideas or questions or want to discuss things, lmk! On the plotting post or even here or aisuyoukai.]]

[moustre]

What can be done with the seeds is outlined in the prompts. They're meant to be planted, fed magic, and then they will help destroy the Cwyldheart. While characters could technically make off with one, they can't be used for anything else, and stealing or preserving one rather than using it for the mission could come off as siding with the Cwyld or allowing suffering to continue.

We're not sure what you mean by price or permanent matter, but there are no side effects that come from planting and feeding the seed.

[notbert]

Oh I just meant in the sense of whether there would be permanent side effects from having fed a seed. Which you answered well, thank you!

For the first bit I sent an idea to mod pm but if the answer is pretty much the same just let me know when you have time to go over it. Thanks for the responses!

[yesdoubt]

[Momo had been a little too inwardly-focused to notice the third sensation creeping in amongst his other Bonds, but now that she points it out, his brows furrow a bit as he starts to notice the new flow of feelings.

And then, rather abruptly, anything negative simply cuts out of Momo's end of the Bond. It's something of a habit for him to conceal those kinds of feelings, but here it's ridiculously noticeable just because of how much the environment is stirring up his negative feelings as opposed to his positive ones. He can do it right now because he's actively paying attention, but it's probably not going to be as effective when he can't dedicate fuller attention to it.]

...Yeah. I had the same thing happen a couple of times before we all came into the heart, it's usually broken off again after a few hours or a day or so. [He starts to button up his shirt again, being careful not to shift it open enough in doing so that anything under it is visible. It does make the rubbing and bruising on his wrists painfully obvious, though.]

How have you been doing? If you need to get anything out, you're welcome to. [In contrast to his treatment of his own feelings, there's a light pull from Momo's end of the Bond as he says that, as if he's trying to pick through what feelings he's getting off her to figure out what kind of state she's in.]

inner chamber

[grandspark]

As it so happened, Rude was actually standing around and watching others plant their seeds. He wasn't normally one to hesitate on the job but the infection was starting to get to him mentally. Having traveled this far, however, he wasn't going to give up now.

Howl's words snapped him out of it. He grunted as he turned his gaze down towards the Witch and saw how little he had dug so far. His wings twitched behind him and his tail thumped once at his side then was resolutely stilled.

He knelt down and set his seed carefully aside. "Fine. I'll help." He shooed Howl back a bit so he could get at the hole. Digging tools would have been smart to bring but in the haste of leaving and the limited supplies already gathered at the initial time, he had left without grabbing any, leaving them for others to take advantage of.

As a dragon he had the size and strength to dig without aid well enough anyway. Notably, his hands were covered completely with a pair of sturdy gloves probably meant more for fighting than gardening but they would keep his hands clean at least. They didn't hamper his efforts; he began to move dirt with quite some force, sending it flying out of the way.

a

[grandspark]

[The sudden burst of infected flora out of the tunnel wall as he passed was definitely a surprise. His honed reflexes were quick so he dodged the initial explosion and grasping fungi easily. What he didn't anticipate was Momo's rapid reaction and the mess it made.

The gooey substance that was once fungus landed all over his front side. His suit was ruined but honestly at this point that was already expected considering the traveling conditions down here. That wasn't an issue.

What was an issue was the parts that covered his skin and scales. A splattering across his face, a touch on his tail. The goo wouldn't have bothered him much on a normal day--sometimes jobs just got dirty--but this infected nonsense had him more on edge than usual. A dragon amongst all this was a dumb idea, he knew it, but he kept going anyway. He'd taken care to cover himself carefully as he traveled through tighter spots, using shawls and capes to cover his head and wings and tail when needed. But he removed them when in more open areas like this one to keep from feeling stifled.

Maybe he should reconsider that. His muscles twitched in the closest approximation to panic as he allowed himself.]

...fine. Help me get this off.

[He told Momo as he took out a handerkerchief and started to desperately wipe down his face and, yes he still had them even down here in the dark, his sunglasses.]

[adventageous]

[The abruptness of the change in emotional feedback causes Alice to blink a little in surprise. That he could have that sort of control despite everything is impressive, to say the least. Based on her one playful interaction with him, it's an unexpected development. As are the bruised wrists--what horrible things had happened to him that would bring something like that forward?

She doesn't really have the energy to dwell on it for too long, however, and she can't (and doesn't want to) do anything to block the pull from his end. Instead, she sits next to him, touching shoulder to shoulder to better allow the temporary bond to work.
Having been without one for a few days now, the connection feels like a much-needed release.

There are no clear scars across her body, but her skin is pale and chapped to the point of bleeding in a few places. She's exhausted, and scared, and in no small amount of pain. But she's also determined, holding tightly to her own resolve that this is the Right Thing To Do to help a world she's grown to love. Alice lets all of that flow through, hoping it doesn't overwhelm Momo.]

I promise not to overstay my welcome with this, if I can help it.

[She smiles at him a little, hoping that it's enough to expresses her gratitude.]

I'm... [Alice pauses, fighting the urge to say that she's fine and not to worry. It's clear that she isn't.] I feel terrible, if I have to be honest. This place really messes with you.

How about you? Are you doing all right?

shared dream

[omnicrafter]

Just the sight of falling stars gives her a strange feeling these days, of something lost and something never had all at the same time. Even the otherworldly sort evokes the same vague sadness, despite knowing it has nothing to do with Amaurot. And yet... she's not the only one who doesn't care for it, apparently.

The features of the boy chasing after it are a little different than she knows, but the face is definitely Howl. Though why such a strong reaction from something seemingly so innocuous, she isn't sure. If it's not a falling star, then what? And what does it mean that he looks so unlike the current Howl?

Curious in spite of herself, she pursues him at a brisk jog, hoping he'll stop when he reaches the water to give her an opportunity to catch up.

[yesdoubt]

[Momo knows a bit more than he used to about dragons after his recent surveying, but the point of weakness to Cwyld was one he actually knew about from a while ago, not least because of why the Underground had no dragons of their own. He'd question the wisdom of having even come down here as one of the Monster types that's particularly prone to infection, but that's probably not going to do anyone any good when there's no turning back at this point anyway, so he just nods and pulls some cloth out of his carry bag to quickly wipe away at the sludge.]

Sorry, that was just supposed to be a shield...I've gotten too used to being able to react with that. [He sounds concerned at the fact of having exposed someone particularly vulnerable to infection - it takes him a moment to wipe the sludge off his own hand, almost as an afterthought.]

I don't know how well it works on this, but I did bring a bit of that healing moss that grows on the surface near here, if you wanted a bit of extra precaution.

[He's taking it more in mind of an antiseptic here, something that might hopefully stave off the infection from taking hold for long enough for them to get things done.]

[yesdoubt]

[The fastening of his shirt back up to his neck means there's a moment where the clawing and bruising marks at his voicebox are particularly noticeable as well before he covers them up...or half covers them up, since that's about all his shirt's neckline naturally covers. He does pull his turtleneck collar up a bit further to try and hide it more, but it doesn't sit that way very long.

He doesn't stop her from sitting next to him, either, though he's tense to the touch in a way he tries to force down a bit as well. It's not as if anyone can really relax properly in this situation, but he's too worried about Yuki being down here as well to come anywhere close to unwinding from constant vigilance. That need to bring himself and his partner out the other side does at least mean that he shares in her determination, and something of it comes out to meet what Alice is offering, like fuel to feed a flame in its efforts to bolster then emotion.

That's the most honest emotion that comes out of him for the moment, though, because at Alice's question, he brings a bit of a smile onto his face.]

Yeah, I'm fine. It's a little messy, but I'm not worried about myself in the face of it or anything. [Because he never worries about himself when there's other people to worry about instead. Especially if it's Yuki. The joy of half-truths strikes again.]

If I can help out, then you can stay as long as you like. It's really not a problem, and I want to make sure everyone reaches the end of this in one piece.

[Momo welcomes this sort of support...as long as it's coming from him to someone else. It's when it goes the other way that he starts to get reclusive and secretive and stubborn.]

[galdorleod]

When his footsteps breach the border of a patch of wildflowers, they kick up puffs of light pink flower petals and fireflies startled from their sleep. It's a beautiful sight, especially with the mountains around them and the black sky above, alternating between clouds and the sparkling starscape. And yet, the young boy doesn't stop for a second to look, continuing on even as the grass and flowers have grown so tall and thick that they're reaching his waist.

Another sparking star emerges from the sky. It lands a relatively short distance away - less than a mile - bursting into a brief glow of light and fireworks before fading away. Howl cries out and tries to run faster, but in the next moment, trips and falls flat on his face with a loud splat. These are marshes, after all; the ground is always slightly damp to some degree, long before you even reach the edge of the water.

"No," he mutters helplessly, just as Irhya approaches him. The front of his aristocratic playclothes are covered in mud and his shoes and stockings are completely waterlogged. Another star falls as he tries to pick himself up. "No. He's going to die." Looking over his shoulder - having noticed her at some point after all - he continues desperately, "If he touches the ground, he dies!"

[galdorleod]

Having Jin at his side so quickly provides more comfort than Howl expects. Rolling onto his back immediately makes his hands and arms feel better, although as the seconds pass, the pain in his chest tightens and spreads. It feels vaguely familiar, this pain, but he hasn't the slightest idea why, nor can he spare a moment to try to think about it, with how much he's hurting.

"I'm - " he gasps, curling against what would have been Jin Guangyao's hip if he were human still. Howl takes a deep breath like he was told, and then another. The pain is still there, but slowing down as helped him focus. He's not on fire. His chest feels like it's burning from the inside out, but it's just a feeling. There is no fire.

He squints his eyes open and tries to look up at the Naga. "...Are you alright?" And then, "Where is the seed...?"

[galdorleod]

With a huff, Howl withdrew from his pitiful hole in the ground and sat back, pretending that he wasn't surprised that the enormous monster actually listened to him. He initially watched him as he heaved dirt from the ground using his large, gloved hands, but soon he was looking at the profile of the dragon himself and wondering whether he'd met this one before.

No, he was sure he hadn't. Howl made an effort to introduce himself to the Mirrorbound dragons at any opportunity, so congratulations, Rude, you've managed to pique his curiosity at a time when Howl is in full "no talk me im angy" mode.

"...Thank you," he finally murmurs after a minute or so. "You're much better at that than I am. Much stronger."

shared nightmare

[themogget]

Mogget doesn't remember falling asleep, but that hardly matters. Nothing that's going on right now makes any sense.

The cat watches, faintly bemused, as the scene unfolds in front of him. He lacks the sense of urgency that the young Howl (and it's obviously him, he wouldn't mistake the man for anyone else) feels as the stars fall, but his keen eyes follow the track of one as it plummets, hits the ground, and--

"Interesting." He says softly.

His small shape disappears into the grass as he jumps from the step of the little cottage and follows after the boy at a gentle trot.

Heart of Darkness

[themogget]

[No one would have expected a small white cat, of all things, to have made it this far.

Mogget lost control of his human shape not all that long ago, and the effort to keep holding on to it almost drained him entirely. He isn't sure how long it's been anymore and somehow the passage of time doesn't seem to matter. Well, it never mattered before, did it?

The curse has had its own peculiar effects on the small feline form. Strange wisps of light curl off his white fur, almost like smokey tendrils, giving the effect of his entire shape appearing to be losing cohesion. His shape doesn't seem entirely right - cat-like, but off in a way that is entirely uncanny and not easily pinpointed. When he walks it's with clear discomfort.

He finds the young woman sitting in a corner, looking about as terrible as he feels. The eyes don't seem to put him off.]

Would you have still come, if you knew?

[When the cat speaks his voice is a myriad of odd mewls and other feline sounds, but there's something else to it now. A strange, vibrating bass carried under it that speaks of something far more powerful.]

ii

[sonnestark]

[That hollow feeling following their bond being severed had never really faded, not until now. She had lost track of the days down here; time had so little meaning in the dark, removed from the rest of the world as this place seems to be. She has never allowed herself to stray far, watching over her bondmate even as the connection between them languished, but she can see Alice return to her rightful self before her very eyes now, the color returning to her face as her magic is restored and she is once again whole— and their bond along with her, causing the part of Karin that had been steadily edging towards feral to calm itself at last.

Everything is as it should be.

She squeezes Alice's hand in turn, offering a smile that shows pride as much as it does relief, reaching out to lay her other hand against her bondmate's shoulder, something that feels strangely more intimate than it ought to thanks to the raw and powerful sensation of their bond having been restored.]

I didn't do much of anything.

[She hadn't had to struggle nearly as much as Alice had to get this far, but...]

I missed you, too.

[grandspark]

He'd be honored if he knew--well, probably not, he wouldn't care. But it would be an interesting tidbit of information to know about the other and a person like Rude took down things like that in memory. All that aside, he didn't stop digging until Howl spoke up finally and only then paused for a second to glance over at the Witch.

"That's why it's not a problem."

He was honestly used to being the strongest man in the room even back home. If not the outright strongest then he was typically one of the strongest and most skilled, and combined that made him one of the most deadly. Which was fine with him. It helped his job to appear large and intimidating. At least most days. If he needed finesse or charm that was what his partner was for.

Being turned into a hulking dragon only made it more apparent that he was large and strong. The extra bulk was almost annoying sometimes. The only thing that made it bearable in this world was the fact that dragons had once been popular and most areas in the cities were made with them in mind.

The Turk went back to digging. The hole would probably be large enough for the seed soon. And then he could get to work on one for his own.

[grandspark]

[Despite his gruffness, Rude was grateful for the help. Once his face and tail were clean he felt a little better. He'd had a good running for lack of infection if he simply kept it off his skin, even if it got onto his clothes, so hopefully his luck would keep up. It was hard to say though--it might have been time for a bit of catastrophe. It always seemed to run that way eventually.]

It's fine. They're dealt with.

[And he was no worse for wear at the moment. Rude understood now what Momo had been attempting to do. He recalled the Witch being quite good at making magical shields. They'd worked out quite well in the past. Now that he knew what Momo had tried to do it made sense and making sense out of the senseless had a bit of a calming effect on the dragon. Besides, he was aware things were a bit hard on the Witches right now. Even some Monsters were having issues with special abilities tied to their Monster traits. He had had an incident himself with his firebreath earlier.

So, he could be grateful for the attempt at shielding, too. It wasn't often someone got to play shield for him. It helped that it was Momo, too, someone he already knew a little.]

...sure. What have you been doing with it?

[Wear it? Eat it? Rude wasn't really sure how the moss worked other than it did what the rumors said about it.]