Welcome to Gaia! ::

Having arrived after Mac's narration, Petro could only nod as the others introduced themselves before he gave his own name. The monster boil was confused about what they were talking about, especially when Riley took the lead. Dying? Ghoul? What?

It wouldn't be a surprise if Petro suddenly had the thousand yard stare as he tried to process what he could. In the end, he pretty much decided to keep quiet about things and simply follow after them. Or do whatever Lizzy said. Their group was growing but Petro didn't immediateley consider the others part of his herd. This was an alliance, and he'd defer to the pink-haired ghoul first. So when she took notice of Jericho, so did Petro. "'S the matter?"

What in the Jacking hell was going on here? Suddenly, Jericho was talking to the air and Riley was looking as if someone slapped her. "I don't think he's talking to us," the lightning dragon muttered. Or at least, he'd better not be with that tone.

Stepping toward the other dragon boil, he reached a hand toward him - though he wasn't sure he should try to touch him. This was weird. "Jericho? Talk to us, man. What's going on?"

Something worse than death? Well that was all kinds of disastrous. Sharra curled his hand into a fists, nails digging into his palm. "We've just got to press on..." He muttered, though it was mostly to the rather adamant dragon boil at his side. "Running in terror certainly isn't going to help anyone. None of us are dead yet...they've just been trying to...scare us into doing something foolish, it looks like...Aksaja's right."

Ah gods, Riley seemed so utterly distraught, something that the nergal found to be utterly uncharacteristic. All the times he'd seen her, she always seemed so in control of herself...this really must be doing a number on the mindflayer...and Jericho babbling on certainly couldn't be helping things. Just what was his trouble anyway? He looked...somewhat terrified, the dragon now seeming to be stammering pointlessly. But there...there wasn't anything there...and he didn't seem to be talking to any of them. Jack, could he even hear what his friends were trying to say to him? "Has he gone mad or just..." Was there some sort of spell going on? Or perhaps a grand many of them. Nothing...nothing was right about this place.

((Fog response))
Alwine's hand was slowly starting to warm in Mandy's grip. The ghoul had gone silent, reduced to merely observing like she had done so much before the Christmas Trip. She couldn't even contribute on the decision of where to go next. There wasn't a Candy Cane Lane, blaringly obvious and crying out its challenge for all to hear. So, she just went wherever others went. Mandy was going to the lighthouse... so Alwine was, too.

They were nearing it when Alwine felt Mandy's fingers slip away from hers. She grabbed after them, running towards nothing as an ominous fog settled around her. She felt like a spider had spun its silk around her, leaving her trapped in a hollow cocoon.

She tried to break out into a run, hoping to find Mandy, but it was like the fog itself was slowing her down. It became hard to even lift her feet, much less pump them in a sprint.

So, she started to wander.

After awhile, Alwine began to forget when she was separated from Mandy, or how much time had passed since then. The fog was so thick that she was certain she could clutch it in her hands.

In what seemed like an eternity of stillness, the headless haunt could hardly move. She was certain that she had wandered into the ocean, and would continue to wander about its bleak waters for eternity.

In the distance, she heard hoofbeats. On the island, one would expect the sound to be dulled by the sand, and slow to more of a shuffle. Most horses experienced difficulty walking in the sand. However, the pace of the hoofbeats only increased. It didn't sound like sand, no. It sounded like planks... like the horse was on wooden planks.

"Don't go near the bridge."

The haunt felt like shackles had been released from around her ankles. The horse was letting her get a head start.

"Do not go near the bridge. There are bad things at the bridge."

The pace of the beats got even faster, the horse was at a gallop now.

"Don't go near the edge."

Alwine suddenly felt something, but she wasn't sure what exactly it was. Either way the haunt fell forward, screaming the entire way. But it wasn't a bridge, there was no water or rocks below. Alwine was kneeling in the sand, staring up at the ceiling of fog.

It could have been seconds, or minutes, or maybe even days. But eventually Alwine staggered to her feet and started to re-wrap the bandages that had come undone. She also decided to pick up the large book that she had dropped after her fall. Thank Jack she had been able to find it! She brushed some of the sand off and looked around. There was nothing but gray.

Alwine felt cold graze against her skin, though it was merely her imagination. However, the voice pressing against the back of her neck was not.

"YOU FOOL. GO TO THE BRIDGE."
A whinny followed that unearthly sound, and with a scream Alwine went streaking into the darkness.

((response for Day Two!))

Everything had seemed so normal, and then, suddenly... it wasn't.

It was like a wall falling, a wall of grayness and grasping curls of mist that seemed to tear their little group apart, wrapping clammy damp tendrils around Malodore's every limb. "Riley? Riley!" the plague doctor shouted, both out loud and mentally... and it could feel its voice disappearing into the fog, being swallowed up by greyness. As if every word - spoken or not - was being plucked out of the air and devoured, syllable by syllable. Taken into the fog.

Forever.

Malodore shuddered, its backblades chiming against each other; even though they were perfectly straight at the moment, the sound they made was somehow dissonant, as if they'd been bent crazily at odd angles. Or perhaps it was only the echo that had been twisted and returned to it in a mangled form, rather than snatched away entirely as its words had been.

Had there ever been Riley, really? Maybe it had all been a dream - Riley, Jericho, Christof, Calder, everyone. Had there ever been anything but gray and shadows in the fog?

Giving names to shadows? Silly plague doctor! Imaginary friends were for children... the delusions of an immature or injured mind. A dying mind...

Malodore shook its head, hard. No! She was real - they were all real. The fog had not been wrapped around it forever, eating light and sound and thought. There had been a time when the air was clear and clean...

... there had been...

The plague doctor took a deep breath; the gesture was usually calming, but all it did in this instance was draw the clammy gray deeper into its lungs. It coughed, doubling over momentarily, one hand coming up to hold its hat to its head.

The sound of its coughs... returned. And they brought friends.

Fuori!

The plague doctor stiffened, its backblades rising like a dog's hackles. The voices echoed all around it, establishing a sense of presence... as if it were surrounded by others. Unknown others, just out of reach, just out of sighed. It flailed forwards for a moment, hands reaching out through the fog, swishing trails of gray.

Nothing.

Fuori! Scappa, scemi!

Covering its ears had no effect; they were in its head. In its head, where only Riley's voice had been. It felt like a violation, feeling it there; where Riley's voice felt warm, this felt cold, a cold that had nothing to do with the normal bite of the grave. This was beyond that. As if the fog was wrapping around its very mind in addition to sinking into its lungs, permeating it from the inside out. Chewing away at it until nothing was left but an easily-devoured echo...

Fuori! Invia questo posto maledetto!

"Esci dalla mia testa, fuori della mia mente, vattene!" Malodore shouted, clutching its head. It ran forward now, heedless of danger, stumbling over unseen obstacles in its way, seeking only escape from this endless, infinite gray. Laughter sounded all around it; cold tendrils clutched at its limbs-

-and then the fog was gone, though one last voice hissed in its mind as it tore free from the grasping mist-

È sciocco. Non è possibile proteggere nessuno.

Malodore collapsed onto the path, coughing helplessly; it couldn't bear the thought of carrying that vile miasma in its lungs. It had to get it out... get it out...

Get out....

Riley's anger fizzled when she heard Jericho's next words. They made no sense, and his eyes were wild and unfocused on her. Her mind worked to suddenly piece together what she hadn't immediately realized - and confirmation came in the responses of the other students around her. She took a deep breath, both calmed and stressed at the same time.

Jericho.

He couldn't hear her. Or at least, it was clear he couldn't respond. He was having a vision, something like Mac's, she assumed.

She reached out and put her hands on top of his, pulling on them gently.

Jericho. Focus. Focus on what's real. She glared at him intensely, trying to make him look at her. Trying to make him see her.

She heard a coughing behind her, and every nerve in her body tried to force her to wrench away and check if it was who she thought. But she couldn't. Not yet.

Jericho. JERICHO. Don't let them win.

Ah hell. "Jericho," Aksaja said, as the other fell to his knees. He was trying his best to stay calm, SOUND calm, but this was . . . kinda freaking him out. What in the world could make Jericho of all people sound that scared? Jack.

"C'mon man. Snap out of this. None of it's real, they're just messing with our heads," he went on, reaching out to shake the other boil's shoulder a little. "Come on . . . "

"Jericho..."

It was a soft whine; if seeing Mac hang out by the side of a cliff and talking to himself was enough to worry her, seeing Jericho just crumple down like that was much worse. Much, much worse - that miserable kitten was not her first impression of the dragon, after all, and she could feel herself stiffening just by watching him. Part of her wanted to hug him like she would hug her other friends, assure him that he's fine, but... That was someone else's job.

Not hers.

As if proving her right, Riley was the one to hold him, and she felt that odd feeling at her heart again. Of course, she dismissed it immediately; Arachne's experience had taught her that such a feeling was one that would only lead to more sadness, after all. Instead, she moved back to give them both some space, hugging Mac's arm as she leaned against him, watching quietly before she forced herself to turn to Mandy, who she had failed to notice before due to Jericho.

"Hey, Mandy! Good to see you... Where's Alwine?" She forced herself to smile before turning to Sepheran and Petro, her voice a little strained but otherwise normal, "Let's... Wait for Arachne. You must be worried... We'll wait for everyone."