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 Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:27 pm
His wishes? All Julian wanted to know was how to end this war without repeating what had happened to Silver, without causing more pain, without killing. How could that contradict his intentions. He might have argued, might have stood up for his wishes, that his intentions were pure. He was a protector, a guide. He didn't want to hurt others, he just wanted-
Pulled? Not of this world? Of course he was. He'd been hatched in this world, kicked from his nest by one of his sisters. A human couple found him and raised him, taught him to be good and honest. He had grown up avoiding singing, channeling his negative emotions into constructive things, taking his need to hunt and turning it into not only an assistance to his family's lives, but also turned it into a lifestyle, a career.
He'd become a ranger, he protected and gamed the forest he lived in, hired himself out as a protector and guide. He had even tamed his miasma into a dire wolf, his dearest friend. This was his life. He'd just put his future on the line in order to help his kingdom flourish and to help others have better ones for it. He had been named one of the five Champions, a great honor.
How could none of that be real?
And then he saw, then he knew.
As the scene began to unfold before his eyes, he felt something, deep within him. Familiarity. He knew this woman, this man. Flashes of things. Jewelry crafted by his own hands. Snow falling outside of a train's window. A funeral. A pretty gir-ghoul grabbing him and kissing him. Whispering something in his ear, he couldn't remember, what had she said?
No! No, this couldn't be! He was Julian the Harpy, a ranger, as wild as the forest itself, protector of the wilds, guardian of those pure of heart who needed passage. He was-
He was Julian Thanatos, son of Titus. He was a student, but he was far more than that. He was a son, a younger brother, an older brother. He was a protector of those he cared about, a survivor of Christmas Town, Hunters, and the death of the Four Clans.
He was a rescuer, a volunteer to do whatever it took to save his friends. Sin, Lumi, even Rosc. Especially Lumi. A glance over at Belladonna, he gave her a small smile. He was glad she was with him, that she wasn't a fake, too. At least he had one friend here.
As he looked down at the bracer on his left arm, the manifestation of the lie that was King Mort of the false kingdom of Om, he felt a burning within him. A determination far greater than he had as simply a champion blossomed in chest, its petals licked with crimson flames.
He was the demon owl. The harbinger of Death himself.
And he was circling close.
[Exit]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:28 pm
It was nothing like Erebus had imagined. He had thought of some grim truth behind the Voice, behind the Kings, but he had never thought that it was something like this. Something as painful, and he clutched on to the hand that reached out for his as the vision came to him.
It was strange. He had thought he had just remembered who he was, after he had finally summoned up the courage to step into the waters of the Violet Kingdom. A detective, chasing after a monster who had broken out of the Underworld... that vision had all been lies. It came to him now; the proper memory, the true memory. He remembered worry, remembered plunging in without a second doubt to save his brother.
His brother. Thackery. Thack. The person he had thought was so eerily familiar but never thought too much about it. Now he knew. This Thackery here was not his brother, just an illusion. Fists clenched as his heart thudded in pain, in anger. Erebus had never felt this much rage burning within him in his entire life, and hot tears prickled at the side of his eyes.
His gaze swept around to those present, trying to remember their faces. They were all in this together and he needed to know his allies. Back in Amityville, he hadn't known them save for a few, save for the person his hand was holding--
Cold relief flooded through him, but it was just a tinge in the anger boiling within him. At least Tomoko was real. At least she was here with him, and she was real...
And Thack was not.
This had to end. He was going to get his brother back. Getting everyone back. He was no longer a ghost, a lost soul.
[[Exit]]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:29 pm
It was like having a veil get lifted from her eyes, a wretching feeling following shortly after, making her double-over forward, gasping for air as she slowly worked her mind around she had seen. It was the red string all over again, her hand going towards the golden eye, lightly rubbing her face as she tried to swallow everything.
A lie. It was all a lie.
Her eyes threatened to spill tears, but she took deep breaths, counting down to the ways she would rip this 'realty' apart, head against the floor and arms around her stomach, hoping the world would stop spinning for just a few minutes as she pieced it all together again. Lifen Hua did not cry. Lifen Hua was a artisan, a woman of the arts - not a Queen, not an Empress.
Mengyao, bless his soul, was not an Emperor. He was a Noble, like Lan - they had their protector - they had their priestess. She had told them what to do, and how. Maybe this gut wrenching feeling in her stomach was what made her try to forget and just sink in to this "reality".
She would end it, and get her Mengyao back.
The real one.
In fact, she would make sure she'd get everyone back. Come hell or high water.
Standing up, she gave the illusion a soft look, a knowing one, a thanking smile, before walking out of the room, head held high.
[ Exiting ]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:31 pm
It was all going to expel out of her worse than that time she'd vomitted up a fresh pack of gummi-covered slugs. A Queen? No, that wasn't her Xiu. She wasn't some fancy-pants Queen prancing around in a palace bigger than her town altogether. The tatzelworm ghoul remembered her kin; her Ma, her Pa, her Cousin Enis. Jackdangit. She'd come with a purpose and what she was wasn't what she-... was.
At least those creaking wheels within her brain were turning the right way now. Jackdang in'a ditch! They'd taken her family and she hadn't gotten them out yet. Why had she trained so hard if she couldn't keep a grasp on her own kin? Xiu was the petite ghoul she trained by her own hand. This wasn't Xiu.
But it looked like her.
West.
Rex... Oh Jack. Her brother was in there too.
IT AIN'T MA'BROTHER!!!
The tatzel wanted to punch something. For lack of any other option, her tail hit ground with THUD. Levi's breathing became more erratic the more she thought about someone taking her brother from right under her nose during the night and putting him under for what could have been forever. They were just a few dorms away from one another. How did they get passed her?
West.
A flash of pink flickered through her thoughts. A wave of bright pink followed immediately but a hard coiled black. Horns.
Where was he... the one she could depend on to take all her fight. He's in thar too. West. West. Westus. She hissed through gritted teeth, nose crinkling at the images she recalled of being just that close to them and doing nothing about it.
This was something she'd have to amend. Yer comin' home. She would make them come back.
[exit]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:31 pm
Suddenly it all made sense. His closeness to Lifen, Lan, his brotherhood with Senga-
Senga. Even the Senga he knew here, was nothing more than a fake. For a moment, relief flooded him, realizing he had not actually harmed his friend. But that matter was small compared to the one at hand. He knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was no noble. He was far more than any noble, he was a horseman.
All paths lead to the same end. ... This was their path, the path they had chosen, the choice they had made.
But what end would it meet?? ... Kiwi glanced up, and for a moment his tawny eyes shifted, catching the gaze of the other horsemen gathered in the room. No words were spoken. No words needed to be said. The graveness of this situation was undeniably clear.
His gaze dropped. The fan in his wrist, false as it may be, still felt real, and as he shifted, he could notice a faint glow reflecting off it. For a moment he passed it to his opposite hand and lifted back his ruby sleeve. A faint lotus mark glowed with pale light between his fingers, etched onto them, so that it formed a perfect symbol when held together. How had he not noticed this beforehand?? ... Whatever they were dealing with must be powerful indeed, if it could hide his entire existence from him. Kiwi placed the fan back into his hand, hiding the mark. But not again. Now he had to go back, face a false reality, all to free those he held dear. The sick students. Surely there were horsemen trapped here as well. The kings most likely, and, perhaps even Senga ...
His fingers squeezed round the handle of the fan, knuckles white. This was it. Time to walk his path. And with that Kiwi let go of the moment, the brief, flickering moment of reality and allowed himself to sink back into the illusion ...
[Exiting]
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:46 pm
As the woman spoke yet more, Alexander the thief let out a sound of disgust. She was offering them guidance, but she spoke in riddles, and he hated riddles. He was already shaking his head, already letting his fingers tighten on Belladonna's shoulder to tell her that they should leave this place, though how he thought he would go about doing that was a mystery.
And then things changed, and so did everything he knew and believed.
The tent, Medea, Arel. The vision confused him at first, stopped him from saying anything to the small fairy by his side. It was just so very familiar, and the names of the figures he could see leaped into his mind before he could even really process that he knew them. Little by little, memories began to surface as the vision went on and more was revealed. Enough to hold his attention, to mark his features with a look of bewilderment. But he was Alexander of many unflattering titles. He was a wandering thief, who had finally made his home in the land of Om. He was a dhampire. He was quick of foot and sharp of wit.
But as the world came crashing down around him, so did the truth. He was Alexander, but he was a zombie. He was a seventeen year old student of amityville. He was a resident of a place called Halloween. He was an initiate. He had a family, a horde, he had close friends, and he had loved ones. Loved ones that were trapped in this world. Loved ones that he had been asked to help and save....
The dhampire fell to his knees, face buried in his hands as he let out a choked sob. This world wasn't real, and now he remembered why he had come. Mort, Xiu, Aymet, and so many others that he cared about, though none of them even came close to the anguish he had felt when Yin had fallen into the deep trance like state as the others. Not him, not when they had already been through so much. Not when he had just gotten him back.
But now, infused with memories of both Alex the student and Alex the thief, he knew the truth, all of it. He knew where many of his friends were. He knew that in this world, it wasn't just students and horsemen.
There were hunters here too.
He had fallen silent. He pushed himself to his feet, his face set in a stony look. Belladonna, Sophie, and one named Julian that he had not had a chance of getting to know before now. Well, not in the real world, at least.
Now would be an excellent opportunity.
Something white blazed forth on his skin, a mark, on his left hand, a flower with petals that spread upwards towards his fingers. He stared at that mark.
And then he woke up again.
((Exiting))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:49 pm
Giving the figure a hard glare of confusion and apprehension, Gene was completely skeptical of everything this figure was saying until -
No. No that wasn't possible. That was...her? What were those clothes? What was that hairdo? She couldn't be that person.
Oh, move over!
And like that, Gene was back in the reigns. The real Gene - the Gene that drank five cups of coffee a day, wore the cute clothes, and had come to pull Xiu and company out whatever comas they'd fallen into. This wasn't a game, this was real unlife.
Jack, these clothes were uncomfortable; like the thought of killing a face she knew. Yet...it had to be done, to save them. Medea had said so, and even if she put not an ounce of trust in the Horseman, she did recognize her knowledge of such things.
This was going to scar her, she just knew it.
((EXIT))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:57 pm
Night felt sick, after the trance...vision? whatever it was he saw, he was confused. Memories flickered all over chaotic and complicated and hurting all of what he was.
Was he even a shade? No, he was a black cat. A ghost black cat. And he had been sent to help his friends. To free the ones who were sick.
Aymet. His closest of friends, and a brother in the horseman lairs. That's who he had been sent for. The others were not the same but...
It hit like a truck and then was gone, leaving the cat shell shocked.
And the dream was over just as it began. He had a new mission.
He had a new path to follow.
((EXITING))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 11:27 pm
The woman's words confused Shaheen at first, the vision she was shown one that niggled at the back of her mind, a familiar sight but she couldn't quite place why or how. Who were these absolute strangers? Medea.... A voice rang into her mind, chiming like a bell, a sound to awaken, a sound to bring back to her the memories that were once hidden.
She had chosen this. She had come here, with Lifen, Lan, and Kiwi, and some students as well. In fact, all those in the tent were recognizable now, the ones who had come, the brave ones who chose to fight to get back their friends and loved ones. Shaheen had come not just for Lifen, but because two of her own clan, two of her own friends, had fallen ill to whatever force was behind this.
"That's right..." She whispered, as it all began to click together in her mind. They had been set a task, to come here and do what was needed to return the others home.
As the vision began to fade and distort, Shaheen glanced towards the others, then averted her gaze to something that caught her attention. A white mark suddenly emblazoned upon her, opposite the yellow mark of the king on her other side.
It was done. She had work to do. Kill the King...easier said then done she was sure. One small, sympathetic look was cast towards Lifen, her friend and confidant. They had much to discuss when they left this place, but one thing was for certain.
Shaheen would not falter in this task.
((Exit))
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 11:40 pm
So focused on keeping the image in focus, on not loosing the flickering flame or even in carefully breathing in and out that smell of smoke, the faerie was slightly startled to feel a chill hand on her shoulder. But it was only Alexander, only a dear old friend and she smiled at him with a sigh, glad to have him here too. That particular coldness helped clarify her and his question rang in her ears, a true sign of loyalty. Not for the first time in her life, Belladonna was vastly glad for his friendship.
Others filed in, shapes and figures crowded the woman and her pyre and then--
Static
A flurry of images, words, snippets of phrases, people... People from another life, another place, another time, another world. But as the odd little scene unfolded before them, as the faerie felt the grip on her shoulder tighten and her owns fingers closed in on themselves, it all tangled together. Everything wove together, tighter and tighter until it wasn't a tangle at all. It became a seamless thing, one piece of a whole that as Belladonna watched she could see stitching itself back together. What once was confusion became less so and the odd push of air from her lungs helped things coalesce.
Unfortunate really, for the image that was left was one that was a terrible thing. Everything was fake. All of it. That beautiful kingdom, all those wonderful people and the colorfully imaginative world... It was just a highly rendered game. And it all stemmed from Mort, her Mort. Jackdamn it all, when wasn't it something awful about him?
That was all it took, that one old, familiar curse to make it all come tumbling down.
All those memories, that whole life she had lived was all just a dream. She had never been some girl run away to the mystical kingdom of Om where she remade herself. There was no flower stall, no scattering of fields she plucked her wares from and no Harvest Festivals. No Alexander the Dhampir who thieved and hid behind her lilies when the guards came by. Ofelia wasn't some big hellspawn neighbor and she certainly didn't smell of sulfur, rather of flour and sugar. All those beautiful flowers, all those people she'd met, all of it. Even that tall tanned human who called himself Mellow and magically transformed into the King, jack she was an idiot for not noticing it then. But she hadn't, oh no the faerie had swallowed it all with a smile and lived that life. She fell in love though she knew it wasn't right, she was happy and she had pledged herself to him.
But above all that, he had been happy. He had been so carefree and silly and lighthearted. Life had been good, so very good. No torments, no pain, no jackdamned Insanity to breath its whispers and doubts and poison anything. Gods, she was an idiot. Not one little bit, not one drop of it had been real. Not the disguises, not the magic, not their secret love, their friends, their time together, all of it was a lie.
And the witch was just a pawn in the game.
With a gasp Belladonna sees it all, crystalline and sharp. Not a faerie, not a flower seller, not a secret love of the King, not in love with the copy of Mort who wants himself to be happy. All these things she was not...
But there was more of what she is, and that is enough.
It hurts fiercely, but carefully her chin rises up to a more dignified position as hands clenched down at her sides. That same heavy hand from Alexander remained for a moment before it fell away, and the witch (for she was a witch, not a faerie at all) turned to find Alexander on the ground. Quickly, she dipped down to place a hand on his head, to brush her fingers into his hair and let him know he was not alone in this. Once more, and it seemed forever more, Belladonna was enormously grateful for his friendship. This was not the first time either of them would tussle with a false Mort, which was probably much worse. But it was for good. For his good. That lessened the blow, if only just a little.
As she took a breath to try and steady herself and the stinging in her eyes, the witch first caught the sight of Sophie and then Julian's smile, careful to hold it for a moment before her eyes swept down. A memory from the fake life rose unbidden, something now fuzzy like a fading dream in her mind.
In this world, his favorite flower was morning glories. Pity it meant love in vain, for how perfect was it that Mort's false self had unwittingly chosen what he knew to be false. As the volume was turned up on the world and the witch felt herself melding back into that faerie creature, she once more made a pledge in her heart, a new one.
This love would not be in vain. With all her heart, all her strength, and all her love, she would fight to make this right, to help, and above all, to make it so that this love would not be in vain.
[Exiting]
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Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2013 1:33 am
Sophie was confused. What did they mean she was not from this world? Of course she was. She was a Wood Elf. An alchemist who made a living in the Kingdom of Om; supplying medicine for the citizens and poison for those who worked for the King. She'd just become his Champion and they were in a war. She glowered. There was no time for such silly riddles! There were battles to be won and people to protect. If they were not going to give her guidance then why did they call her here? What in Om was the point?
Like a switch being flicked, everything changed and she knew what the point was. She remembered everything. Her friends, her family, being a student. Her real identity. Sophie, yes. But not a Wood Elf. Not an alchemist. Not a true citizen of Om. She was Sophie the zombie. A student at Amityville. Alex was her brother. Belladonna and Mort her friends. Mort.. It wasn't Mort, she knew this but that didn't make it any easier to kill him. It was like a part of him. Would he remember her betrayal? Would he forgive her?
It wasn't like she was left with a choice. It was either kill him or stay here forever. Keep everyone trapped. She wasn't selfish like that. She knew sometimes she had to do bad things to save good creeple. That was it then. A quick apologetic look to Belladonna and she was gone, waking up in the Kingdom to carry on with this game. Though now the rules had changed.
[EXITING.]
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Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2013 6:50 pm
The Hermit bristled as the figure spoke out. Of course what they wanted was different. Just looking at some of the others made him seethe with an anger he couldn't place, a loathing that set his teeth on edge. He jerked his head up as the fire blazed brightly, fear overriding his -- wait. Why was he so afraid of fi--
The shadows peeled away from him. The robe, the accents; everything was removed to reveal scales and bone, rot and flesh. Was he... alive? One of the living? No. He didn't feel anything. He still retained the glow that defined him as a Shadow, yet now it had moved to accent his form.
His glowing eyes rose away from his body to watch the events unfold before him. Merope felt ill. Where had that resentment towards the others come from? The pure hatred that made him want to rip the others apart, one by one? Piece by piece?
The undead sea serpent was confused, his confusion growing further as the head priestess spoke. Defeat themselves? Awaken? Did he hear that correctly? What was going on?
Wait. No. Why was he over there? The head priestess said this was all a dream, a dream based off of the sleepers. Did that, then, make the shadow kingdom Aymet's dream? Did he dream of a kingdom in ruin and eternal night?
And she expected him to bring Aymet to a silver gate? Or to defeat him? Or to awaken...? He was left with more questions than answers, more choices than before. He needed to think. He needed to find a safe place to sit down and consider what he had heard, if and only if he had heard everything correctly. It was almost too much.
Merope kept the white flower mark on his arm hidden by his shadowy sleeve. His shadow form draped over him, smothering his natural glow and forcing it to glow a particular way. To him it seemed a little brighter now, and yet... Was it right? Was this the way things should be?
It would occur to him later that his initial reading was inaccurate. The reverse Hierophant didn't mean the Silver Kingdom fell; it meant his whole world as it was changed. The Ace of Cups still represented an opportunity, but the reverse chariot... Something was going to change. Someone. Aymet?
He needed to talk to Aymet. His king. His liege. His friend.
[ EXIT ]
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