☆ Event: Fright Night

[moustre]

Event Log: October, Fright Night

I. The Mist It starts in the middle of the night. As the bells chime for 3 am, a slow fog creeps across the city from all four cardinal directions, swirling low to the ground, shining purplish in the light of the twin moons. It goes without notice for a while, an oddity, easily brushed off as too much rain and the changing temperatures turning it to mist over the cobblestones. The first ones to get caught up in it are the night workers, the drunks leaving the bars, the sailors returning to their ships, anyone out on the streets when it begins. In most cases, the effects are not instantaneous - it takes a little time to sink in before… a. The Transformations Even if you don’t find yourself out on the streets in the middle of the night, the mist creeps its way into buildings through cracks and openings, until exposure is almost guaranteed for everyone in Aefenglom, and even some just outside the Bright Wall in the Outer City. Though a lucky few, Mirrorbound and citizens alike, will find themselves wholly unaffected by the substance and will retain their physical forms and their own right minds, many more find themselves bent to its whims, changing in ways that could never have been predicted. There is little rhyme or reason to what changes occur or how - some simply wake with new parts, uncomfortable, while others run from their homes, panicking as wings tear painfully out of their backs or claws burst forth from their hands. The mist does not discriminate. Humans and Witches find themselves gaining the parts of Monsters, or even creatures that live outside the Wall. Monsters gain parts that don’t match up to their species - Arachne with wings or gills, Turnskin with antlers and Merrow tails, Puca with the teeth and claws of predators or the horns of unicorns or the scales of lizards, such strange sights become more and more common as morning approaches slowly. Mirrorbound may find that they can even gain the features and mannerisms of creatures from their home worlds. It all seems to happen wholly at random. These parts may not even last; plenty of citizens lose their new additions after just hours, only to gain new ones in the meanwhile. In the dark, wee hours of the morning, the city erupts into chaos. b. Widespread Chaos There’s no chance of peace tonight. Some may be lucky enough to escape the mists or its effects somehow, but the vast majority of the city hasn’t -- and it’s telling, from the sounds of people in the streets, that no one’s particularly happy about the turn of events. Many are in pain, many are blind with panic and upset. How could this happen? What’s going on? Many of the shouts attribute blame to the Coven allowing the practice of at-times experimental magics, while others turn it into anti-Monster sentiment, claiming the Monster population wants them all to suffer the way they do. Other tinfoil-hat-ists spread their conspiracy theories loudly, laying the blame squarely on Dorchacht - retribution for the Monsters the Mirrorbound stole from their city. This is an attack, they shout! The actual truth remains to be seen, however. There are plenty who don’t care about the truth and pay little attention to the rumors. They’re opportunists at heart, and a city in chaos is good for lining pockets. Some less-affected and less-moral citizens take to the streets of the Shopping and Aristocratic districts, throwing rocks through windows, banging down doors, looting shops and the houses of the wealthy of whatever valuables they can carry with them. Even a gang of kids from one of the orphanages in the Harbor District, sporting their own mismatched new features, can be spotted roaming the city, looting stores and homes, stealing from people incapacitated in the streets. They can’t pass up an opportunity when they have so little to begin with. c. State of Emergency Parliament, in contact with the Coven, is quick to declare a state of emergency in Aefenglom. A magical announcement rings out all through the city, loud and impossible to miss. Those who can keep it together are called upon to help find some sort of order before things devolve too badly and more damage is done than can be fixed. People will get hurt if things continue like this, they could even be looking at casualties. Those who have learned healing magic are asked to report to makeshift first aid stations scattered around the city to help those dealing with more violent, bloody transformations. Anyone with prior law enforcement experience are tasked with helping contain and stop the looting and the muggings. More still are called to try and figure out some way to get rid of the mist, or reverse its effects. None of the assignments are mandatory, plenty are unable to assist as they deal with their own afflictions, but any help is greatly appreciated.

II. Damage Control The chaos of the first night dies down somewhat by noon the next day. The air of forgiveness and cleaning up for the new year that was present at the beginning of the month is gone as the violet mist still spreads, wreaking havoc with the citizens of Aefenglom. Human citizens take it worse than the Monster half of the city, but one of the side-effects hits the Monster community harder. It quickly becomes apparent that the effects of this never-before-seen magic are not only physical. Fights break out over anything from minor slights to things worth fighting about, blossoming from a few thrown punches to all-out brawls that spill into the streets. Anger and agitation increase in most affected citizens, and you can cut the tension in the air with a knife. Relief efforts have to be redirected. Some can keep it together just enough to go about their daily lives as best they can with their new ‘additions’, but others rapidly start to lose their minds in ferality, even those with strong Witch-Monster Bonds. Miss Nessie is quick to whip the Coven into action to help preserve the peace as much as possible. There isn’t enough room to contain so many feral citizens, but they try to make do. All available Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster, who are able and want to help contain the people of Aefenglom or each other are taught a simple knock-out spell, or given slips of paper enchanted with the same, to literally knock some sense into the ferals. It won’t hurt them in the long term, but it will give them a time-out and help pull their minds out of their pits of animal instinct. Plenty of citizens will be thankful for this. That doesn’t mean everyone is happy to see the Mirrorbound around town. They may notice that they get more scowls while they’re out and about, more whispers and dirty looks. They come from humans the most, but especially the wealthier people of the city, dealing with their own share of terrible transformations, who mutter under their breaths words like, “Knew they would bring trouble with them. Knew it right from the start.” Known Mirrorbound may find themselves being kicked out of higher class shops in the Shopping District, or even spit on in the streets. Poorer citizens, especially Monsters, see things differently, however: they’ve seen the refugees from Dorchacht, they know what was done for some of their kind. They’ll admit that the Mirrorbound have brought trouble with them, but a little trouble isn’t always a bad thing - sometimes you’ve got to shake things up and disturb the status quo. Though they’re dealing with bizarre changes and an increased risk of going feral, they have faith that the Mirrorbound will help solve this problem. Of course, this difference in opinion just means both sides argue louder and fight harder.

III. The Refugees For those who’d found themselves rehomed, mostly Monsters and what few Witches came with, this is not what they had expected from a “full moon”. They’d been warned that certain urges would be stronger, that magic could wax and wane like the moons themselves, but this? This rampant disorder, the odd turning present in so many citizens and Mirrorbound alike, the Coven and Parliament’s bid on attempting some sort of damage control--? Is this what they left Dorchacht for, from one far too controlling city to one that didn’t seem to have any control at all? They aren’t in chains, at least. They can choose their Bonds if they’d like one. But it’s put them on edge enough that some linger by the docks, both wanting to leave to someplace “safe” in their eyes and wishing to stay. The latter wins out in most cases, seeking to help the Mirrorbound as they were helped themselves, though they may be suffering from the mists themselves... oddly, they seem to be more aware of themselves in a way that the natives are not, likely learned behavior leftover from Dorchacht to keep themselves in check; the compulsion spell had only helped compulsion, after all, there’d been a genuine want to remain secure and safe in their minds even with the situation as it was. Unfortunately, there’s plenty of locals who see the refugees as part of the problem -- before the Mirrorbound, before Dorchacht, Aefenglom had been fine, and in continuing these thoughts, they’re not... the friendliest to outsiders. Some are more likely to retaliate violently with new-found additions to their physiology and skillset when the refugees attempt to help, with whispers, conspiracy theories, and nasty rumors all the while spreading at a rapid pace. As bad as Dorchacht had been, maybe they had a point about the strange, suggestive magic used across the city. Maybe it’s something Aefenglom should look into too, during the fuller moons, should this be the beginning of something worse as the new year rises at the end of the month. But hopefully -- and this is the hope of all -- it simply remains a one-off, freak happening at the end of the year, and they pray the new one fares better.

IV. The Aftermath Thanks to quite a bit of Mirrorbound assistance, the city is still largely in one piece by the end of the day after the full moons. The mist, an unstable alchemical compound, eventually breaks down into nothing after a day or so, and the effects all fade or reverse, leaving everyone in their normal bodies and feeling clear-headed as the moons start to wane again. There are issues of property damage, stolen goods, and political discord to deal with, but the hardest to handle is perhaps the guilt of those who went feral and attacked their friends and loved ones. Samuin preparations continue with an unusual gloom hung over the city as clean-up and reparations commence. While before, though, humans and Monsters could often be found on the bridge over the River Temese, making amends with one another, the activity almost entirely ceases, leaving the bridge empty most days from now until Samuin.

Welcome to October's event log! This event takes place ICly on the 12th, 13th, and 14th. The Questions thread can be found HERE! Please help us and other players out by putting the subject(s) of your questions in your header! Investigation briefs will be going out soon on the OOC Sign Ups thread to the teams who were chosen by RNG, so keep an eye out for that. And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere.

Comments

iii.

[tryhard]

[ 'Alright' might be a stretch.

Flat finds Waver eventually in the shopping district, near the apothecary where he works. Perhaps he'd been trying to run there to find something that could help. It's difficult to tell now. He's crouched on the street with his back to one of the buildings, head down between his raised knees, clutching the sides of it in obvious pain.

The way his tail lashes behind him looks... wrong. Longer. Shiny-black like leather in the low light of the magitech lamp-posts illuminating the cobblestone street.

When Flat approaches, shouting his name, Waver lifts his head. In the night, his eyes shine an intense red, fangs flashing when he snarls, wordlessly. It might have been a warning. ]

[escardos]

Wa...ver...?

[ flat stops in his tracks when he sees waver’s reaction, his breath caught in his chest. part of him wants to turn the other way, but the rest of him can’t help but stay. he wants to stay. ]

Were you affected by this mist, too? I can help you, if you need it.

[tryhard]

[ It's a bit difficult to see where he's crouched in the shadows, but the shape of him looks... wrong. Something moving behind him. When his hands fall, it's clear more of him has transformed similarly to his tail: horns curve up between his ears atop his head, small and wickedly sharp, shining a wet-looking black somehow darker than the shadows around him.

Yes. It's clear he was definitely affected-- and he's not taking it well. ]

No.

[ His voice sounds wrong too, more of a growl, low and rough and scraping. ]

Fuck off.

[escardos]

[ whatever is wrong physically doesn't register in flat's mind in the least. waver could be growing a goddamn third arm on his forehead, and he wouldn't look at him any differently. waver is waver, no matter how many things he grows.

but the voice that comes from him...that doesn't sound like waver at all. not because he's unused to being told to fuck off--his professor has done so multiple times. but all the rage that's behind it is what cuts deep into flat's heart, like it's been sliced cleanly in half. ]

You-- you don't mean that.

[ flat takes a step forward, his heart drumming quickly in his ears. he forces himself to smile despite the building panic, as if that would help dispel waver's anger. ]

Don't say something so mean when you don't mean it. I just want to help you.

[tryhard]

[ Mean as it sounded, the warning came from whatever part of Waver's mind is still clinging to its shreds of humanity. It was genuine, and internally desperate-- but that tone doesn't easily carry Waver's fear over what he might do, or how hard he's struggling to keep a hold of himself. It's a battle he's quickly losing.

A guttural, animal snarl rips out of his throat as Flat approaches, and his movement in the evening breeze hits Waver with the unmistakable scent of fresh blood. His eyes flash brighter, piercing red pinpricks from the shadows.

Any chance Waver had of keeping his tenuous grip on his humanity slips away as the scent drags Waver suddenly and fully into the madness, the bloodlust that instantly grips him with unyielding, frantic hunger.

He lunges. ]

1/2

[escardos]

[ misunderstandings layer upon more misunderstandings as the seconds pass, and neither of them are in the right mind to understand them as such.

waver lunges at him, and flat is too shocked to move aside, even when citizens scream and even when the force pushes him down on the floor. he’s dazed, barely understanding what’s happening.

the only thing he does understand is:

waver is attacking him. ]

2/2

[escardos]

[ no.

no, that’s not right.

waver wouldn’t attack him. not like this. never like this. which means that whoever this is... is an imposter. ]

Get off me.

[ he brings up the knife, trying to cut at waver’s face. ]

[tryhard]

[ The blood scent is even stronger up close, enticing and intense, and beneath it Flat's scent. Even fresher, hot blood under his skin. Waver lands right on his chest, claws digging into Flat's shoulders and pinning him to the ground with his weight, one knee in the boy's stomach.

His mouth opens wide, fangs flashing, long and wicked.

Waver throws his weight forward, trying to pin Flat more securely so he can't get the knife high enough. One clawed hand lashes out to grab Flat's wrist and twist it up, head bending low to try to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of his forearm.

Between his animal instincts, Turnskin strength, and the muscle memory he's starting to build with Geralt's training, Waver's a lot faster and more efficient than Flat might be used to. ]

[escardos]

[ the knee on flat’s stomach keeps him from even screaming. the gasp of pain as teeth sink into his shoulder comes as a sharp wheeze, eyes wide and full of fear and hurt.

it hurts. it hurts it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts—

while his skills in self defense are more lackluster than the rest of his classmates, he still struggles, trying to flip their positions by twisting his body to the side with all his weight. ]

[tryhard]

[ Flat's struggling makes it more difficult for Waver to hold onto him, and he's forced to shove Flat's arm down and to the side to pin it, veering away from trying to bite his wrist and going for the easiest and least protected part instead. He tries to sink his fangs into the mage's throat, in fact--

But another luckily-timed thrash knocks Waver off course. His teeth pierce the muscle at Flat's shoulder instead, right at the junction between it and his neck. They slice clean through all clothing in the way, tearing into the flesh beneath.

The fresh mouthful of Witch's blood flashes like fire across his senses, bright and hot. Intoxicating.

For a moment, Waver's distracted by the pleasure of it. His grip loosens just enough, his weight bearing down on Flat letting up just long enough for his frantic movements to actually dislodge the Monster on top of him. Waver tries to correct his disrupted balance by shifting his knee back to the ground, the hand not holding Flat's knife-arm down coming up to balance him and try to find a better grip.

His teeth, however, hold fast to his prey. ]

[escardos]

[ the desperation that courses through flat is enough to numb the pain of those teeth on his neck. he struggles and continues to struggle, blue eyes bright with anger as he moves underneath waver. his head is blank, the thoughts in his head reduced to nothing but static.

what he wants is to survive, and he’ll do anything to make that happen. ]

I said GET OFF OF ME!

[ with teeth bared, he raises his other arm to switch the knife from one hand to the other. and, with his anger as fuel, he’ll try again at bringing the knife down at waver. ]

[tryhard]

[ Flat's desperate thrashing is enough, once he gets the momentum, to throw Waver sideways when he tries to switch the knife between his hands. Unfortunately for Waver, he doesn't realize what the Witch beneath him is doing. He doesn't notice when Flat manages to grab onto the knife from the other side, instead focusing only on the taste of him, keeping his fangs buried while he has to shift his weight around to keep from getting entirely thrown off.

He only becomes aware of the knife when it plunges into the back of his shoulder, clean through one of the new wings tucked against his back, now pinned there by the blade.

Waver screams, mouth opening and tearing the wound wider as he throws his head back. ]

[escardos]

[ the sound of waver's scream is exactly what flat wants to hear now, his survival instincts on fire as he takes advantage of this sudden weakness in order to flip their positions around.

he pulls the knife out of waver's shoulder without mercy, pinning him in a similar fashion to how he had just been pinned down a few minutes ago. unlike waver, though, there's no desire to bite or eat flesh--he simply wants to kill the eyesore below him, the fake that had just tried to kill him.

with no gentleness in his actions, he brings the knife down again, this time plunging it into the front side of that same shoulder, if only to hear that scream again. ]

[tryhard]

[ Dazed and distracted from the pain, head spinning, Waver finds himself thrown to the ground before he can recoup. But the pain isn't enough to keep him down.

Another snarl, louder, vicious, and he tries again to lash out at Flat, bloody teeth bared and snapping as the other boy lands on top of him. His knee digs into Waver's stomach this time, weight bearing down, but Waver doesn't need a knife. His claws are just as sharp, long and curved.

They snag into Flat's chest, slicing through skin and muscle, digging in as if determined to scrape out his heart bare-handed.

He does scream again as the knife twists through the front of his already torn-up shoulder, a piercing, howling shriek. But he doesn't stop. ]

[towards_okeanos]

[To say Iskandar is in a foul mood is an understatement. It's been one long horror since the mist appeared. Himself getting some surprise and certainly unwelcomed additions. The chaos that followed.

And yet nothing is worse than when he feels Waver's pain shooting through their Bond. It's like a lightning strike. A heartbeat later Bucephalus is practically flying through the city in full gallop attuned to the will of her master. The will that is now fixed on the glowing trail left by moon part of their shared amulet. The one will always find the other. The trail is clear and strong. As if the spell was given more fuel by Iskandar's fury and intention to find and bloody destroy anyone who dared to hurt his boy.

The scene he arrives to should make him think. It doesn't. All Iskandar can see is a glint of steel. An edge of a blade covered in blood. A knife in Waver's shoulder. Whoever his assailant is, he already has written himself a death sentence. Or close to one because as much as Iskandar wants to obliterate the man ... the boy?... the attacker on the spot, taking care of Waver has priority.

It barely takes any effort to separate the two. No matter how fierce they are fighting, Iskandar is still stronger than both of them combined, feral or not.]

Get off him, little shit.

[He spats as he lifts Flat by the collar of his bloody shirt and just throws him aside like a discarded toy. He'll deal with him later. Right now his attention is elsewhere.]

Waver, are you ...

[He needs only one look at Waver to finally realize that something is truly, deeply wrong.]

[escardos]

[ unfortunately for flat, he is too focused on waver to even consider the idea of someone intruding into their fight. he's practically something like a wild animal now, simply trying to survive.

so the shout of surprise that comes from him the moment that he's picked up is loud and clearly angry, without caring for neither iskandar's own size or strength. perhaps, if he had held him any longer, flat would have tried to attack him as well.

but that doesn't happen. flat's discarded like a rag doll and hits the ground with a loud thud, his head hitting the pavement. between that and the blood loss from his wounds, his body has finally had enough and he passes out, unconscious. ]

[tryhard]

[ Waver is equally surprised, having been apparently too absorbed in trying to claw out Flat's heart. Suddenly having his would-be prey (and/or attacker) ripped from his grasp prompts a startled, snarling yelp from Waver as well, the anger and confusion mixed with fresh pain as the knife yanks free with its owner.

Immediately, Waver is trying to stagger back to his feet, or at least his hands and knees, even without the use of one of his arms. His new wings twitch behind him, bent and bloody, one of them sporting a gaping, oozing hole from the earlier stab wound on his back.

That shining crimson glow has overtaken the entirety of Waver's eyes, not even the whites showing anymore-- and not a hint of recognition.

As soon as Iskandar is close enough, he lunges, teeth snapping at his hands. ]

cw: language

[towards_okeanos]

[Iskandar thought he needs to rescue the boy from being assaulted but now he's not exactly sure if that's what happened here. It takes him a moment to get a proper assessment of the situation. And a moment is all that Waver needs to make a jump.]

Μαλάκα! Calm down, boy! It's me!

[Iskandar didn't expect this. Waver doesn't stop nor does he seem to recognize his king at all. His sudden jump takes Iskandar totally by surprise so he doesn't even try to defend himself when Waver bites into his wrist.

Iskandar mutters another curse trying to shake him off but is it due to the sudden bout of strength the transformation has given Waver or him no trying hard enough, wary not to hurt the boy, or both, the attempt fails.

Flicking his forehead doesn't work too. Iskandar has to resort to the knock-out spell he has learned the previous day. In any other situation, he would congratulate himself on how fast he has mastered it having been instructed only once. But right now his mood is far from celebratory. Besides, he had a lot of practice. More than he would like.
Still, he's prepared to cast it again in case the first one didn't work. To his somewhat cautious relief, the spell does work and the boy goes limp almost instantly.]

Something like that happens and then people still have the nerve to ask me why in the name of all the Gods do I HATE magic so much?

[First, he needs to unclench Waver's jaw. Only then, when he'll have both hands free he can check the boy for injuries. Iskandar shakes his head. He already noticed two but there might be more.
He should probably take a look at that second kid too. Whatever happened here, Iskandar would or would not find out later, but he can't just leave him there and let him bleed to death.]

[tryhard]

[ The knockout spell works. Waver's not attacking in a smart or efficient way; he's just lashing out, snapping and scratching at whatever part of Iskandar he can reach, biting down hard and hanging on. The taste of blood spurs the feral madness further, but he doesn't get the chance to act on it.

Waver goes limp. He's fairly easy to pry off too, though it will probably be uncomfortable.

As it turns out, the wounds that were most noticeable are the only ones, probably save for some bruises later from being pinned. The biggest problem is the ragged hole in his shoulder, on both sides, not a clean wound all the way through but rather messy, deep gashes that had rendered his left arm limp even before Iskandar reacted. Already, there's a significant amount of blood. ]

[towards_okeanos]

[Once he's done disengaging Waver's currently significantly larger fangs from his hand Iskandar gently moves the boy somewhere safer. He'll need supplies. It is a true blessing he's come here on horseback. Otherwise, he'd in a lot worse situation.

Bucephalus stands in a safe distance from the whole commotion oozing disappointment. She didn't like Monsters when they first came here. She got used to Waver because he's Waver, and she likes Waver because he's Iskandar's Waver and sometimes brings her apples. She can forgive him that he smells wrong. Flawless horse logic. Now is more wrong than ever.

Iskandar casts a glance at the other boy before going to back to his horse. Hopefully, he didn't break any bone on him. It's not that he was careful not to. He saw a knife. It's just that now he's not sure if the supposed attacker was himself very lucid. Given the state Waver was is?]

Easy, girl. [He pats Bucephalus on the head. She snorts but calms down a bit.] I know it feels wrong. It feels wrong because it is wrong but I'm going to fix this. [He speaks in most calming voice while rummaging through his saddlebags. He goes back to Waver with a bottle of wine, knife and good length of rope. He wasn't expecting a fight so he has no bandages but he does have a shirt.

While lion claws are terribly inconvenient for holding glass objects and Iskandar struggles with handling the bottle, they're excellent for tearing things to shreds. Iskandar would surely get a lot of disapproving looks for undressing in public - not that he cares - on any night other than this. So nobody makes a comment when takes of his shirt and rips it into long pieces of linen. What remains and can't be used as a temporary bandage, he douses with wine and uses it to clean Waver's wounds. He's got some scratches but the real problem are the knife wounds, so those he addressed first. They'll get a salve for the bruises and scratches later but now is the second time during this period of madness he's grateful he learned all those healing spells. He can't heal Waver completely, the wounds are too deep, he's dead tired and the full moons don't help. But he can at least stop the bleeding and that makes him hate stupid magic a little less. He has to admit the cursed thing is actually useful.

Only when he's done with Waver he goes to check on the other boy. He lifts him off the ground as if he didn't weigh anything. He's lanky one, a teenager with messy hair. Doesn't look dangerous at all but of all people, Iskandar knows best how looks can be deceiving. He drops the kid near Waver and proceeds to dress his wounds too. All this is temporary and a visit to a proper healer But he keeps to the rope near just in case.
He wouldn't hesitate to tie them both down if the woke up still feral. He just hopes he wouldn't have to.]

[escardos]

[ flat is most definitely not in the condition to be fighting back, not with all the wounds on him. with every movement, blood oozes out of his wounds. the holes in his cloak and shirt preview the damage, with deep claw marks on his chest and a bite mark on the crook of his neck that is also bleeding.

maybe, if iskandar had come in minutes later, flat wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. but for now he’s still breathing, even rousing back to consciousness with how his body is being moved around. his blue eyes are unfocused, barely registering the man that’s helping him out. ]

Prof...essor...?

[ there’s no hint of the mist’s effect on him, no trace of that crazed teenager that was trying to rip waver apart. the exhaustion is weighing heavily on his body, but he still manages to glance to the sides to see if waver was near him.

and when he finds him, iskandar will probably be able to tell the emotion that is written on his face: fear.

did i do that? ]

Help him.

[ flat manages to say this in the loudest voice he can muster—though that’s not very loud in the first place. he looks at iskandar, desperation written in his face. ]

The Professor...Waver....help him. You’ll help him right?

[towards_okeanos]

[How did he just call him? It takes Iskandar a longer moment to realize that the blond hair boy is speaking of Waver. Odd. At least, he's conscious. It's easier that way.]

I already did. I'm taking him home.

[At least the frenzy is gone. Replaced by the most primal of emotions: fear. Eh...no surprising.]

After I drop you at the healer's house. One I know lives nearby and you need someone with more experience to deal with those. I swear I could have seen your ribs through those lashes.

[He says that as he ties last of the improvised bandages around Flat's chest. There's a weak scent of alcohol in the air.]

So you two know each other?

[escardos]

[ flat has no idea that his wounds are as bad as they are, even after the state of them is mentioned. everything that isn’t about waver’s condition is ignored, filed away for a later moment.

his breathing is shallow, his eyes glued on waver’s unconscious form. ]

Hard....to explain. He’s...he will be ...my Professor... [ and he tried to kill him. the realization terrifies him, and he’s practically shaking in the older man’s arms, his voice raspy and weak. ] I messed up. He—he attacked me but...[ he wheezes, trying to catch his breath— why is it so hard to breathe? ] It’s not...not his fault. Not his fault.

[towards_okeanos]

Of course, it's not his fault.

[He will be. Iskandar can reasonably extrapolate from that. Waver is a magus. Was before he came here at least. This one apparently is too and Waver's future student at that. Does that mean his boy would grow up to be a teacher? Ha! Excellent! He knew he has a talent!]

And I see it is not yours either. It's this cursed mist. It makes all kinds of people go crazy.

[Like he's precious boy trying to do what? Claw his future student heart out? Because Iskandar can't make sense of those wounds otherwise. He sighs.]

I swear if this is someone's doing and I'll ever find out who did it, I am going to feed them their own liver. How sick you have to be to put the whole city in such a danger?

[Because throwing casual threats is very reassuring. Iskandar looks at Waver. The boy is breathing but he's still not waking up. Did he mess up the spell? Did turn out too strong? Or is it just exhaustion and wounds? Now, he's starting to worry. He can't do anything before he brings the boy home so he turns his attention back to Flat.]

You have a name, kid?

[escardos]

[ it’s not your fault.

those words barely register in flat’s head, too muddled by blood loss and anxiety to think about that rationally. no, he remembers that murder so clearly, he can still feel the blood on his hands, still on his clothes—now mixed with waver’s.

he barely noticed that he, too, is bleeding. the only thing fueling him is adrenaline, but even that will take him so far.

it’s hard to keep his eyes open, but he tries to focus on the large man. ]

Yeah—sort of—Flat. [ he wheezes out a laugh. he really did choose a stupid name to be called by, huh? ] Flat Escardos.