Shock Mark (15) : Thunderstorms are common this time of year, but what’s not common is the number of people reported being struck by lightning. Strangely, people are surviving with only minor, if any, injuries at all. Being struck can feel like a static shock, or can feel like a sudden flash of heat, and targets are left with a strange lightning mark across their body. Though the marks will fade, for their duration–up to a full week after being struck, you might notice that you are more prone to static shocking yourself or others, and you may notice electronics charging or overcharging and malfunctioning. The marks can take longer to fade at player discretion, or players may choose for them to leave pale scars, but otherwise there are no lasting effects.
Ugh, the summertime sky had decided to storm again. Because somebody up there in the universe had it out for Lete, personally and specifically. True, nothing had strictly speaking happened to indicate, but really, it made sense. Lete knew this thing in her brain. All the rain and thunderstorms lately meant that somebody in the greater cosmic fabric had it out for her because Lete wanted sunshine, and nice breezes, and good weather for kidnapping Leandro to the beach because he honestly needed a self-care break after spending so much of his time taking care of Meemaw. Instead, Lete found herself sulking under a pavilion with picnic tables, out in one of the City parks, waiting for Murikabushi to get back with coffee.
Muri had his issues, he really did. That insufferable “blah blah blah, respect for all sapient life” thing that he got on at a moment’s notice, usually for no reason whatsoever. His insistence on how Not All Order Senshi were aggro, trigger-happy jerks—which, while technically true because Demeter existed, wasn’t true of most of them. The sparkly sad puppy eyes that he made on a regular basis, like he didn’t obviously have a core of That b***h lurking just beneath the surface. How else could he be succeeding as a drag queen if he did not know that he was That b***h and deliver at all times?
But on the plus side, Muri did perform reasonably well as a drag queen, it seemed, given the sizable roll of cash he kept in his subspace and how easily he decided to throw it around for other people.
That’s where he’d wandered off to, tonight. Once again, he’d leapt in to rescue Lete from a youma after her magic had decided to crap out on her. Now, he’d put Lete under the pavilion, then gone to buy her a “sorry that your magic decided not to work when faced with a youma that wanted to eat your starseed in the middle of the rain” milkshake from some diner nearby where the staff apparently knew him pretty well. As far as consolation prizes went, milkshakes were pretty great. Lete could accept that, no matter how much she hated the weather.
Except she felt another powered aura somewhere nearby.
An Order aura, at that. Lete couldn’t let that go without investigation. Not when so many Order people decided to give her a hard time for reading books and letting Mirrorwraiths do her job for her.
So, she hopped off the table that she was sitting on. Maybe the aura would turn out to be Demeter, and then the night would actually improve. Hoping for the best, Lete followed the Order aura further into the park, sticking to some of the hedges, where she could stay in cover until she could determine which Order cop was liable to give her and Muri trouble tonight.
Daekie_
Posted: Thu Jul 06, 2023 6:00 pm
Róka didn't typically make a habit out of loitering, powered, in public areas with no aim to it; that often made keeping stories clear difficult, if they had to tell a few different ones. But they were restless, and if someone attacked them first, they were hardly culpable for anything they did in return. Sometimes one just wanted to be a particularly available target. It'd get some of the energy out, surely, before that livewire feeling drove them impulsive again.
Surely?
The rain was -- ideal. All this heat wasn't much to Róka's preference, and it would be hotter and hotter still, and already it was bad enough without the season being fully in summertime. The encroaching storm and the rain took some of the brittle edge off their nerves, letting the water soak through their hair and their outfit; being drenched would be too specific, memorable, and offputting to commit to, but getting a little wet was acceptable. The trees provided enough cover to keep most of it off them, so leaning back against one wetted tree trunk was a balm. It centered them. Kept them in their body, instead of wherever their impulses said they were or should be.
And the aura coming... the feel of this they didn't quite recall. Not Negaverse, then. Sufficient. An acceptable target if this stranger didn't want to play so nicely. It was always so delightful to play a little bit rough and underhanded. How to play this...?
Oh, that was easy enough. Róka turned away from the direction of the incoming aura, going vaguely through the motions of looking at their nails, every inch the clueless, unaware target.
Following the White Moon aura led Lete to about the last person she might have expected. Peering through the hedges, she felt pretty certain that she was looking at……a fish? But also a person? In a White Moon senshi fuku and everything? And not like, a “fish-person” in the same, sexy sort of sense as a mermaid, where they were just a normal person to the waist down and then had a cute flippity fish tail with sparkly scales, probably looking like the princess of something (and like a REAL ONE, Murikabushi!! Like the kind that they made Disney movies about and NOT the kind who pelted people with magical arrows when they weren’t even doing anything wrong!!!!).
No. No. This fish person looked like they might have come straight out of that “Shadow Over Innsmouth” thing (story? novella? whatever, the Internet said it was written by a hardcore racist anyway, and this fact sounded like it was probably true) that kept coming up in Lete’s research for the podcast she wanted to get together.… Pale as death, covered in scars, with cheekbones like knives and the weird frilly fish things sticking out from the sides of their face? Where had all of those scars even come from? Part of Lete wanted to just ask because maybe the story would be cool and interesting (and maybe she could borrow it for podcast reasons, give it to a character as some cool and mysterious tragic backstory……)
But, on the other hand, eugh.
This fish-person had to be another one of those weird alien senshi, and encounters with them never went decently for Lete. First, the jellyfish looking one had tried to make her have a panic attack for doing her job! Then, there’d been the weird guy with the fangs, who’d tried to push her around for literally just existing!! And then, that dragon-guy who was working with the lunatic folding-fan knight!!! He acted so smart but neither one of them understood anything about political theory and they’d attacked Lete over their own ignorance!!!! Rude!!!!!
On top of that, this fish-person had all of those scars, and, like? What if they were in some kind of outer space fish-person senshi gang or something? Better to get the drop on them while they weren’t paying attention. Maybe they’d have a lot of energy for a wraith, but the last person who Lete had tried to drain without attacking first? He’d gone and turned into some weird, pastel candy knight. Not gonna take that chance again.
(On top of that? Lete noticed a little pink star-charm down in the grass, and paused briefly to collect it and put it in her subspace. Perfect. That star-charm said this was her lucky day.)
Even though her magic had just failed her with that youma, Lete peeked up over the hedges and extended a hand. Vaguely tracing the curve of the fish-senshi’s face in the air, she hissed, “Sensory Decadence!”—and oh, yeah, that was the rush!! Right there!! The feeling of Lete’s magic coming right to her fingertips and lashing out in the actual correct direction instead of punching her in the face!!
Daekie
One enemy within a ten-foot radius feels something like a warm hand brushing down their cheeks, and then, the world around them seems to erupt in decadent sensation. For the duration of Lete’s attack, affected enemies are subjected to an onslaught of their five senses. Colors seem brighter, bolder, clearer, and more vivid. Even pale shades and pastels seem vibrant. Whites seem to glare like fluorescent lights while dark shades and blacks seem unfathomably deep. Their other senses are likewise overwhelmed: any tastes around them or in their mouths are magnified by a power of ten, any sounds they can hear feel as if the volume’s turned up to ear-splitting levels, anything that makes contact with their skin feels heavy and oppressive, and any nearby scents might as well be right inside their noses. Although this may initially feel pleasurable, such decadence soon begins to hurt. While distracting, this sensory overload does no physical damage and enemies can still act, if they can stomach the overwhelm.
This attack lasts for 25 seconds, and Lete may use it three times per battle. Any lingering effects of the sensory overload after the attack ends are up to individual players!
Posted: Sat Jul 08, 2023 8:12 am
It was
good magic. Not the term? No. Applicable enough. Magic used well as an ambush. Magic that hit Róka hard. Some often didn't -- as it turned out, enough rough living sometimes acted as insulation to the emotional types of magic, as did the nonexistent state of their feelings -- and elemental or physical magics were their own beast -- but sensory magic was always -- had always --
They knew they could not trust their own senses; the ill-begotten things would lie at any given moment and any chance they got. Usually this was an irrelevant fact. Usually this did not matter at all. Usually, as it was for most people, this was not a concern they thought much about! It didn't matter if they knew, not now; it was impossible to concentrate. It almost made them nauseous with the intensity of it. Some decadence was delightful, yes, they were an unapologetic hedonist -- but that was when it was under their own control. This was. This was --
Mm. They'd put themself in this position. They would manage. Their fingers cut pressured furrows through the bark, and the texture of it through their gloves made them want to writhe and hiss and bark like some dumb animal. It was a new experience, and that was what mattered, really. Wasn't it? Wasn't it. If they looked at it the right way, it was almost enjoyable, but that was in between wanting to shed their skin by force. Too much. Too damned much.
"You think you're clever," Róka said, raspy, barely hearing themself, their voice echoing through their head in a way where they could almost no longer understand it, "don't you," and twisted and lunged at their attacker in one movement, aiming to take her to the ground. Easy to spot. Darkest colors. No need to do silly things like process visual details or have any understanding of what they were doing; the less they thought about it, the more they could work through it to any degree at all.
