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Entry tags:
- !event,
- athena | borderlands,
- benedict dearborn | original,
- carver hawke | dragon age,
- daenerys targaryen | game of thrones,
- eliot waugh | the magicians,
- ellie | the last of us,
- ivar ragnarsson | vikings,
- lee sung-hoon | duel,
- logan | marvel,
- octavia blake | the 100,
- robbie reyes | marvel,
- ruth aldine | marvel,
- vin venture | mistborn,
- will graham | hannibal,
- william | westworld
BONFIRE LIGHTS IN THE MIRROR OF SKY.
WHO: Everyone in game.
WHAT: Our first event log!
WHERE: Anywhere in the world core.
WHEN: After the storms begin.
NOTES: Expect surreal horror and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.
WHAT: Our first event log!
WHERE: Anywhere in the world core.
WHEN: After the storms begin.
NOTES: Expect surreal horror and possible violence. Please use common sense when warning for other content.
Photo by drainrat
PREVIOUSLY, ON THE WASTEYARD.
The world remains divided into a land where either a hazy sun shines muted light above or a full moon casts silvery shadows below. They hang fixed, as if nailed in place, more like theatrical props than far-off heavenly bodies. And you can still see only one of them, depending on which side you arrived.
Meanwhile, the storm rages.
On both sides of the world, the rain starts and doesn't stop. The temperature drops, transforming torrential rain into icy snow. Gusts of wind become gales and spin detritus into shrapnel, man-made disasters turned natural. Shadows spin wildly—almost comically—in cyclones, before bursting into nothingness; if you aren't careful, the winds will snatch you, too. Out here, the only protection you might have is cooperating with each other.
Indoors, it's certainly warmer, but that just means water doesn't freeze. Buildings flood with chilly water that rises no matter how many stairs you climb. Architecture groans under the pressure of earthquakes, sending more water cascading through the ceiling before it disappears into cracks below. Is anywhere safe?
Well, yes. One place, splintered into many. The mirrors in ash-gray frames stand sentinel, scattered throughout the world. They emit warm light from the other side; sunlight spills moonside and moonlight reflects sunside. Water impossibly flows around and away from them, leaving behind untouched earth that stays still and silent. Standing in front of them gives you a respite, a tiny bubble of safety to wait out the worst.
Meanwhile, the storm rages.
On both sides of the world, the rain starts and doesn't stop. The temperature drops, transforming torrential rain into icy snow. Gusts of wind become gales and spin detritus into shrapnel, man-made disasters turned natural. Shadows spin wildly—almost comically—in cyclones, before bursting into nothingness; if you aren't careful, the winds will snatch you, too. Out here, the only protection you might have is cooperating with each other.
Indoors, it's certainly warmer, but that just means water doesn't freeze. Buildings flood with chilly water that rises no matter how many stairs you climb. Architecture groans under the pressure of earthquakes, sending more water cascading through the ceiling before it disappears into cracks below. Is anywhere safe?
Well, yes. One place, splintered into many. The mirrors in ash-gray frames stand sentinel, scattered throughout the world. They emit warm light from the other side; sunlight spills moonside and moonlight reflects sunside. Water impossibly flows around and away from them, leaving behind untouched earth that stays still and silent. Standing in front of them gives you a respite, a tiny bubble of safety to wait out the worst.
INTO THE LABYRINTH.
Once you plunge indoors—unless you're really that determined to take your chances in the storm—you'll find every building with electricity experiencing a brownout. The overhead lights flicker and radios crackle with static, warbling broken news reports and tunes. They eavesdrop on strings of Morse code and private confessions on ham radio. If it's ever been broadcast on the airwaves, public or personal, you might hear it if you tune to the right station; you might even hear yourself, replaying a conversation you've had or will have. And sometimes the audio seems pointed, preternaturally so, as if tuned to your own thoughts and words.
Meanwhile, the waters continue to rise. The halls stretch long, seemingly infinite and twisted into knots. In some of them, no matter how far you walk, it seems like you never get any closer to the end; in others, you hit one dead end and can't stop hitting dead ends, no matter how many times you retrace your steps. None of that's unusual.
But if you delve deep into dark enough recesses (whether accidentally or intentionally), the world calms. The water recedes. Mirrors materialize in the dead ends, scratching out an "X" in the frame before your eyes. If you touch one, the glass falls away in ribbons, flowing like quicksilver and fleeing farther into the darkness. It reveals a hole on the other side, so deep a black it looks flat. Wherever it goes, it's so dark you can't see the other side.
And that's when you hear a sound like someone inhaling and then exhaling, steadily breathing around you. No...you feel it. A presence that has no form no matter how hard you look, but follows you in creaks and groans. It feels like being stalked by a monster in a maze.
Running from it only intensifies the feeling. Attacking makes it even worse. Calm acceptance is the only way to lessen or even neutralize it, but that's something you'll have to discover for yourself. In the end, there's no way to defeat it. You have to trust your instincts and believe it's there, despite the fact that you can't see or touch it.
Meanwhile, the waters continue to rise. The halls stretch long, seemingly infinite and twisted into knots. In some of them, no matter how far you walk, it seems like you never get any closer to the end; in others, you hit one dead end and can't stop hitting dead ends, no matter how many times you retrace your steps. None of that's unusual.
But if you delve deep into dark enough recesses (whether accidentally or intentionally), the world calms. The water recedes. Mirrors materialize in the dead ends, scratching out an "X" in the frame before your eyes. If you touch one, the glass falls away in ribbons, flowing like quicksilver and fleeing farther into the darkness. It reveals a hole on the other side, so deep a black it looks flat. Wherever it goes, it's so dark you can't see the other side.
And that's when you hear a sound like someone inhaling and then exhaling, steadily breathing around you. No...you feel it. A presence that has no form no matter how hard you look, but follows you in creaks and groans. It feels like being stalked by a monster in a maze.
Running from it only intensifies the feeling. Attacking makes it even worse. Calm acceptance is the only way to lessen or even neutralize it, but that's something you'll have to discover for yourself. In the end, there's no way to defeat it. You have to trust your instincts and believe it's there, despite the fact that you can't see or touch it.
CHANGING SIDES.
Elsewhere, it starts as a smell.
As the ground shudders and cracks, the stench of rot comes from the fissures. Mirrors and windows melt off walls, and a strong sense of vertigo comes and goes, like cresting waves. Looking out a window shows buildings and bridges breaking off of the labyrinth and drifting—or plummeting—away. They dissolve into nothingness as they vanish into the abyss, like they were bathed in acid. The already fragile world is falling apart.
It comes with a pervasive sense of wrongness, perhaps ironic in a world where everything is already wrong. But that's when it happens: You look up and realize you're no longer where you started. The sun or the moon, whichever you expected, is no longer in the sky. Instead, on the horizon lies its opposite.
It's a phenomenon unique to areas with high concentrations of ash mirrors and hallways, particularly when there's someone else on the other side. Sometimes the instability flips your positions, so one of you is now in the dimension where the other previously stood, while other times it drags you both together into the light of the sun or moon. It's like you resonate, magnets attracting or repelling each other in little pockets of peace.
As the ground shudders and cracks, the stench of rot comes from the fissures. Mirrors and windows melt off walls, and a strong sense of vertigo comes and goes, like cresting waves. Looking out a window shows buildings and bridges breaking off of the labyrinth and drifting—or plummeting—away. They dissolve into nothingness as they vanish into the abyss, like they were bathed in acid. The already fragile world is falling apart.
It comes with a pervasive sense of wrongness, perhaps ironic in a world where everything is already wrong. But that's when it happens: You look up and realize you're no longer where you started. The sun or the moon, whichever you expected, is no longer in the sky. Instead, on the horizon lies its opposite.
It's a phenomenon unique to areas with high concentrations of ash mirrors and hallways, particularly when there's someone else on the other side. Sometimes the instability flips your positions, so one of you is now in the dimension where the other previously stood, while other times it drags you both together into the light of the sun or moon. It's like you resonate, magnets attracting or repelling each other in little pockets of peace.
THE LOCKED ROOM.
Amidst the chaos, as the world shifts and there's no telling where or when you are, you slip through a crack. Or maybe you're a weirdo who climbed through the hole left behind a mirror.
In either case, the fissure is both literal and metaphorical, influenced by the unstable world and your actions. Maybe you step through a door, crawl through a crevice, close your eyes, or do something else to take you between here and there. Whatever the case, you find yourself in a room unlike any others you've seen in this distorted world. Well...once you look closer, anyway. On the surface, it may just be another kitchen, ballroom, or cellar.
But in these rooms, it doesn't matter which side of the divide you were on. Not only because you can't see whatever lights the sky, but because they lie between dimensions. There are no windows and no doors; you'll only find walls the same mottled gray as everything else in this place. Attacking them gets you nowhere. Any damage is there and gone, like the erased moments between flashes of a strobe light. There is no easy way out.
But there is a mirror. Hairline cracks run through its surface, shattering a single reflection into multitudes. Set in an ash-gray frame like so many others, it's left somewhere in the room, whether hanging on a wall, haphazard on the floor, or leaning against some furniture. It emanates the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. Turning away doesn't help; you can feel it gazing at your back.
The haunted feeling only subsides when you stare back. And you should stare back, because these mirrors are your escape route. Staring into them will reveal someone on the other side with the same predicament. Surprisingly, you can hear each other when you speak. It even comes translated if you don't speak the same language, although your mouths still sync to your native tongues. It's like a poorly dubbed movie.
Touching the mirror gives you the impression it's somehow leeching off you, trying to fill those cracks. Try to pull your hand away and you'll find it's a little difficult, like unsticking your tongue from a cold pole. Moreover, you'll feel a compulsion to tell the truth, to do something real.
In either case, the fissure is both literal and metaphorical, influenced by the unstable world and your actions. Maybe you step through a door, crawl through a crevice, close your eyes, or do something else to take you between here and there. Whatever the case, you find yourself in a room unlike any others you've seen in this distorted world. Well...once you look closer, anyway. On the surface, it may just be another kitchen, ballroom, or cellar.
But in these rooms, it doesn't matter which side of the divide you were on. Not only because you can't see whatever lights the sky, but because they lie between dimensions. There are no windows and no doors; you'll only find walls the same mottled gray as everything else in this place. Attacking them gets you nowhere. Any damage is there and gone, like the erased moments between flashes of a strobe light. There is no easy way out.
But there is a mirror. Hairline cracks run through its surface, shattering a single reflection into multitudes. Set in an ash-gray frame like so many others, it's left somewhere in the room, whether hanging on a wall, haphazard on the floor, or leaning against some furniture. It emanates the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. Turning away doesn't help; you can feel it gazing at your back.
The haunted feeling only subsides when you stare back. And you should stare back, because these mirrors are your escape route. Staring into them will reveal someone on the other side with the same predicament. Surprisingly, you can hear each other when you speak. It even comes translated if you don't speak the same language, although your mouths still sync to your native tongues. It's like a poorly dubbed movie.
Touching the mirror gives you the impression it's somehow leeching off you, trying to fill those cracks. Try to pull your hand away and you'll find it's a little difficult, like unsticking your tongue from a cold pole. Moreover, you'll feel a compulsion to tell the truth, to do something real.
THE GREAT ESCAPE.
For those of you left behind where the sun and moon still shine, keep an eye on your own mirrors, especially broken ones that seem to be influenced by something invisible. They display a room that most decidedly isn't your own, acting more like a window than a mirror. And whoever's inside, trapped, might call on you for help. You won't be able to hear them, though, so how are you with body language?
Meanwhile, for escapees...
No matter how you escape the rooms, you might notice something a little strange once you get back to the labyrinth. Well, stranger. For a brief window of time (one that grows longer with each room you escape), you'll discover the sun and moon occupy the same sky. The area you've entered is a temporary nexus of sorts, one that fuses the dimensions into something that almost seems stable.
It feels right, but the world isn't strong enough to hold itself together for long.
Meanwhile, for escapees...
No matter how you escape the rooms, you might notice something a little strange once you get back to the labyrinth. Well, stranger. For a brief window of time (one that grows longer with each room you escape), you'll discover the sun and moon occupy the same sky. The area you've entered is a temporary nexus of sorts, one that fuses the dimensions into something that almost seems stable.
It feels right, but the world isn't strong enough to hold itself together for long.
no subject
robbie takes a breath, closing his eyes to try and control himself. he knows, though, that it's pointless because if the rider wants to come out, he's going to come out. )
¡Sal de aquí! ( he covers his face with his hands, feel the warm leather slowly starting to heat up. he knows what that means. ) How did you even get here, Eliot?
no subject
I. Through the. [ he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, at the door that's. no longer there. ] There were double doors. On the other side. I don't really know where that. Um.
[ he scans the walls again. nothing else. a mirror standing off to the corner, but it's a fucking mirror. and robbie is. definitely not okay. ]
Are you. What's going on? Robbie?
no subject
I don't like feeling caged.
( true but it was a little more serious than that. he pulls his hands away from his eyes and opens them again, looking for some way out. he could try and punch a way out, use the enhanced strength that the demon gives him to get out but, knowing this place, it wouldn't work. )
I need to — ( get out of here. he can feel himself growing warmer and warmer but there's no fire. not yet. even without looking, he knows what his eyes look like and he's trying desperately to stop himself from being consumed.
eliot's the only one here and if the rider thinks he's the reason he's here, it's going to be bad. )
no subject
oh, shit. ]
Okay. [ it's quite, softening. he's trying to ease whatever it is that's building up behind robbie's eyes. he raises a hand too, his cane gripped tightly in the other. ] Okay, just. Take it easy. It's fine. We'll be fine. We're both smart. We can figure this out. Okay?
It's probably just a puzzle of some kind. Nothing we can't figure out. Yeah?
no subject
he growls under his breath and stalks away from the mirror, muttering sharply though not loud enough that eliot's able to hear. his hands scrabble at the wall, bringing dust and dirt away while he tries to find purchase.
tries and fails. he rears back and slams a fist against the wall, feeling the skin of his knuckles crack and bleed. wouldn't last though. not with this thing inside of him. )
You shouldn't be in here. ( he takes a breath and turns back around, orange eyes settling back on eliot. ) You took a wrong turn.
idk if this counts as off script but lmk if it's too cheaty and i'll fixy
the magician steels himself. this isn't how it appears at all, is it? gesturing with his hands, eliot casts a frame of reveal between his forefingers and thumbs, the enclosed rectangle reveals something sinister and inhuman in place of robbie's face. a flurry of flames dance angrily as the hidden hostility rises. what the-- ] Fuck.
[ eliot doesn't think he's the one that needs protecting. robbie needs his help. he breaks the rectangle between his fingers, letting his cane fall to the side and readying himself to cast properly. ]
What is it, Robbie? Will it hurt you? If I hurt it, will it hurt you?
it's all good!!
( the only thing that's come close is the darkhold but, as far as he knows, eliot doesn't possess that. eliot possesses....something but he doesn't think it's powerful enough to take out the hell demon. nothing's been strong enough yet.
he turns away again, stalking away from eliot and letting the shadows swallow him up. he breathes heavily, raggedly. this level of control hurts. he usually can't keep the rider from coming out if that's what the other guy wants to happen.
he can only chalk it up to this place and its weirdness that's giving him the ability to do that. )
Don't try. ( because he doesn't know if he'll be able to hold himself back if there is an aggressive threat. ) You have to leave. Get out of here!
no subject
[ that's non-negotiable. he's not leaving robbie to deal with whatever fucked up claustrophobia has pissed off the thing trying to claw it's way into controlling robbie's body. not to mention there's literally no doors in sight anyway, so. ]
I don't think I can, either. If it isn't with you. There's a trick to these rooms. I don't really get it, but if we're both stuck here, then neither of us are getting out without the other. Or at least, that's the gist I've been getting.
no subject
What's the trick?
( his breathing comes in ragged gusts, a testament to how hard he's trying to keep himself in control. it's over if the rider comes out. for eliot, for robbie, for this place. )
What's the trick to getting out?
no subject
[ jesus. robbie's really not looking so hot. or well, he is looking hot, but not in a healthy human sort of way. ]
Others have some kind of trick with the mirrors. Breaking them or something, but I've not been in one of those yet. I've only heard.
no subject
Just get away from me! ( it's a growled, desperate thing. a warning and a threat all balled into one exclamation. he doesn't want to hurt eliot but he's not going to be in control if this keeps up. )
no subject
You first. I don't plan on going until I know you're okay. That's non-negotiable.
[ eliot tells himself this is just paying robbie back for having gone out of his way to help stitch him up, for actually caring when he could have just as easily left eliot to suffer, but there's a part of him too that really doesn't want to run, even if the possibility to do so existed. he can't let fear swallow him. not if he's to survive here without any of his friends on earth or fillory. ]
Please, Robbie. Let me help.
no subject
( why is that so hard for him to understand? people had tried to reason with the rider before and it didn't work. there was no reasoning with something that just thrived off blood and death. that was all he wanted and he hadn't gotten it in awhile. robbie worried that he'd go against his 'only kill those that deserve it' in this place because of what it was doing to him. )
You can't help me. ( he breathes out, ragged and desperate. ) And I don't want to hurt you.
no subject
I don't either, Robbie. But I don't think we're being given much choice.
[ he swipes his hand smoothly through the air in front of him with the twist of his wrist, casting a circle of flame about his feet. ]
I'll be okay. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, and. Maybe it's a bit cliché and cheesy to say at a time like this when things are about to get all comic book movie on us, but. We'll get through this.
[ or neither of them are getting out of this maze of rooms alive. there isn't really an alternative. ]
no subject
You're barely holding yourself together. You shouldn't be doing anything that exert yours energy. ( how's that wound, eliot? still painful? yeah, thought so. )
Just — don't talk to me. ( maybe he can calm down. maybe he can fight this off. maybe he can stop himself from trying to go through that mirror. )
no subject
there's not really much more he can say to reassure robbie now. the man's already decided.
if being quiet helps though, he'll do that, and so he does, eyes following robbie as he silently hopes the man can control whatever it is. ]
no subject
( he lets the quiet drag but he can still feel eliot watching. so far, he's been successful in keeping things at bay but he knows it's a matter of time. he knows he won't be able to keep it down. his eyes are still glowing and his body is hot, fire simmering underneath his skin. )
Like a sideshow?
no subject
[ he runs a hand through his hair, brushing it back in frustration. this already isn't the easiest situation to deal with. he doesn't need robbie turning into margo when she runs out of her favorite foundation on him too. ]
What do you want me to do, go stand in the corner with a fire extinguisher?
no subject
You don't have a fire extinguisher.
( dry, droll.
he clenches his hands into fists and feels the fire licking at his sleeves now, catching but not hurting him. he's going to end up turning and smashing his way out of here. hopefully not through the mirror though.
por favor no quiere lastimar a nadie por favor. )
no subject
Yeah, that'd just be too convenient it, wouldn't it?
[ he hums, rolling his head to the side in concern as the fire forms and spreads but never catch. Definitely seems like a kind of magic, whatever it is. eliot isn't really sure how well he can hold his own against whatever is about to force its way out, but maybe the mirror can against protect him and this will all just be something to laugh about in half an hour.
ah, if only things were ever so simple. ]
Well. You know what they say, Robbie. You show me yours, I'll show you mine.
no subject
( but neither of them might have a choice. his fingers curl into fists, digging hard into his palms. )
If I...it something happens, you need to try and get out of here, okay? Promise me you'll try. Don't just sit here and try to save me. That's not possible anymore.