11/05 — ΣHeartless Snaring Cathedral...?

[userunfriendly]

Who: █████ & visitors
What: scheming
Where: Δ Hidden Forbidden Holy Ground (Hulle Granz Cathedral)
When: Sunday, 11/05
Warnings: to be added


[ Despite the ominous aura, the haunted tower has seen no shortage of visitors recently. But for those who gate in today the air itself is different. The skies are black, and the mist that had blanketed only the top of the tower now pours out across the plains, shrouding the ruined city from sight.

Anyone who goes looking for the master of the tower will find that the room he occupied before now holds only a single door, standing unsupported in the middle of the room. It beckons, tugging with a terrible compulsion — you know whatever sight awaits you is one you'll later wish you could forget, and yet... you look. But the door opens only onto the bridge leading to Hulle Granz Cathedral, where the first quiet strains of choral music through the open doors guides you on. ]

((Note: Characters are welcome to receive the location from any other player and gate directly to Δ Hidden Forbidden Holy Ground. Allowing those who found his tower inaccessible to come join, too, is cruelty.))

Comments

7/???

[tablescraps]

( Mithrun's just as glued to the unfolding chaos as everyone else, so he's late to notice the air rush behind him as his door swings wide. The tether hooks into him, and though he grits his teeth and braces his unsteady legs at the suddenness of it, he knows by now what to expect. He recalls his life already, besides, and none of it should be a surprise to him. It may be in some parts unpleasant, but it is what it is.

He feels a hand brush light through his hair, caressing the back of his neck, affectionate.

"Oh, Morgan, Morgan... My heart breaks for you, it does. You want so badly to be loved, but you're so... Please, let me try to make you better. Tell me, what do you desire?"

Mithrun bristles, his skin going pale and eye going wide; his teeth grind clenched. He feels for the first time in a long time the serrated edge of hunger carving at his insides, the empty in him suddenly so violently painful.

cw: hannibal is your therapist asmr; references to disordered eating

Professor Aleksandr Deiorio is a gregarious man, occasionally rich but not so often, as he is a philanthropist who so often donates great sums of his wealth to as many causes as he can manage. Something of a public figure, always a welcome face, and, perhaps expectedly for someone so reputably kind, he is someone uncomfortably high in the ranks of a certain sizeable criminal organization, the Sarabi, in the United States.

He very much loves mirrors. He loves to set Morgan up before them, because he knows Morgan once was vain, and now is rather desperate. He is Morgan's sole confidant, his personal patron, and he likes to lay a hand along his shoulder and force him to look and tell him, oh, isn't it a shame that nothing suits you? you spent so much on this, and yet... do you really think that no one's sneering at your taste? ah, perhaps if only you'd looked a little better, if you weren't so badly scarred, if your proportions weren't so awkward and your face weren't such a fright, people might like you a little more, morgan. but we can fix that, can't we? make you look less like yourself, and more like anybody else...

(The scars, of course, being the professor's doing, a product of some number of exercises across the years; but they were on Morgan's body, and so they are now one of Morgan's many faults.)

He would continue, they will speak to you, and they will think, "oh, he's just as as much as a fool as he looks, he can't possibly be a true chatainne;" and they will wonder if you're of mongrel blood... and it is hard to hide that you are, you know. but i feel a great pity for you; you want to fix this about yourself, don't you? all of this that's wrong with you, all of this that's wrong with your life. you need only ask me, morgan.

And Morgan would. After so many years of the professor's gentle kneading he had twisted into some sorry and desperate and unrecognizable thing, that wanted so badly for Niamh to love him, wanted so badly to be better, wanted so badly to be different (how?), wanted and wanted and wanted more and had lost sight of everything else. Nothing was enough. He had taught Morgan that hunger. Always inadequate, always come up too far short, he was always further and further of ever being worthy of love. And this, Morgan understood, was his own fault. It was not unlike being Macha.

let's have a meal, the professor would say, when he was done with his help and his mirrors. And that had been the only thing Morgan had ever wanted, in the end: to have a meal with his loved one, and talk. This, too, the professor would take from him.

And this learned hunger gnawed at him constantly, because the professor forced him to eat until he was sick, and then he would force him to eat again, and again, and again, until Morgan could not know a moment without the constant buzz of starvation scraping hollow his chest. The purpose of the hunger was largely to be maddening, but the professor called it help. And Morgan could not eat unless he was with him; what would people think, seeing someone with Morgan's image eat as if he were starving? (Or so the professor had chided.) And then the professor would deny him food, until Morgan would beg, even if it meant begging to be sick. He was barely a person, in most ways, by the end; he was barely coherent. It was his one passion, his research, that kept him stood upright and conversational; until his research, on the professor's orders, got him shot.

A sweet scent floods the arena; a scent that might be familiar. It dizzies and disorients, and in the haze of this lesser charm, you begin to wonder - who can you trust? You trusted them, and yet - haven't they betrayed you? Won't they betray you? Just like him.

Staggering on his feet - his armor's HP buff only brings his HP up so much given his Edge Punisher base, so the 40% drain to his HP/SP's still affecting him something awful - Mithrun mutters under his breath, visibly agitated. He slaps at the back of his neck, as if trying to crush the phantom touch there. )

... Stop... touching my hair...!

( His repulsion is twicefold, because he remembers Cubia's hand, too, in his hair, and he hates it.

His nails dig into the back of his neck and drag, drawing blood. The grip on his greatsword stiffens and halts like a better part of him knows he needs to stay his urge for violence against a false image that would only strike an ally; and yet, another fond, murmured "Morgan..." too close to his ear strains his restraint. In his distress, as if to beat back the professor so surely present beside him, Sweet Wind unfurls around him reflexively and completes its cast, a wood-element skill that inflicts Confusion all unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity.

Overwhelmed by the sweet scent, Levi, Albedo, Oria, Miharu, Shoka, and Fuurin are now Confused! The rest of those in the arena are for a moment taken by the sweet air, but keep themselves grounded and shake off the effect that threatens their senses. Unless mods desire to kill me for this, we can run Confusion like Macha's battle for simplicity: confused characters use no support skills; flip a coin to determine if you attack an enemy or ally (heads: you attack an enemy; tails: you attack an ally); a single point of damage from any source (including a slap) snaps you out of this Macha-lite Confusion.

His legs already weak and pushed unfairly during this combat, Mithrun clatters to the floor, blade coming loose from his hand, nails dragging deep red lines into his neck. His HP is short; he'll need healing, or his door shut - likely both. )

DONE. heal core use 2/3, cw: blood, injury from limb loss

[fluorite]

[ It happens so quickly that the metallic smell of blood is the first thing to hit him. It's strong—so, so strong that it nearly knocks Fai back again, but the blood that splatters onto his robes and on his face and in his hair have him crawling forward towards Yael.

No... he's crawling towards Sheza. He's always been Sheza, he'll always be Sheza.

Hands shaking, Fai reaches him. ]

Sheza!

[ He'd been asked long ago to keep that name private, but things like that aren't exactly at the top of his mind right now as he finally reaches Sheza, shaking hands reaching out to touch him wherever he can reach. What does he do, what does he do—

Ah.

He remembers something, faintly. A class, maybe? A class he never should have been able to take in this world, that's for sure. But those memories tell him exactly what he needs to do. ]

I'm not letting you die here, you idiot. I'm going to kick your ass.

[ With a quick use of his Data Drain Type H: Single, he heals Sheza back up to full health. He couldn't be assed to care about his own 2 HP right now anyway.

Then, he tears off a clean portion of his robes and presses down right where that femoral artery should be.

He could definitely use some help, if anyone can spare it, given the torment Mithrun is going through. For now, Fai at least is grateful for the chaos around them so he can tend to the chaos right in front of him. ]

1/????? (jk 1/2 sorry shay)

[curvaceous]

[ ... ]

[curvaceous]

[ Despite her fury, despite her wanting to smack Yael upside the head, she is absolutely shaken when Gorre lands his hit on Yael's leg.

There is no talking to him. He will only go down through violence. But, seeing as though Oriade and others have that covered, she will climb up his big booty body while he, presumably, isn't paying attention (thank you Yew)...and once she gets closer, she will slap him across his ghostly cheek (5) regardless of if he's got armor on it or not. Bitch. Just because you stabbed your own brother (Sinclair) doesn't mean you can hurt hers, too. ]

[dissimulative]

[ So much had happened in the past few minutes and now Oriade is hit with confusion. He feels like his head is about to explode with everything going on at once. He's also seen that memory before, in the mirrors—

But it's fine. All those moments that he remembers thanks to the cruelty of the doors, all those people attempting to kill him year after year... this is no different.

He'll just have to hope other people are helping the others in need, so he loads a skill in the queue. ]

Winter isn't going to get away with not saying anything to us in person, so we're definitely gonna kill this stupid AI to bring him back so that I can yell at him myself.

[ He launches Vak Doom (heads, 20), aimed right at Gorre's head. ]

[insinning]

[Sorry boyfriend, he's too busy bleeding out to slap you at the moment but you were so cool just then]

[dissimulative]

[ kyaaa

BUT ALSO HEAL YOURSELF. DAMN. ]

DAMAGE CORE USE 1/3

[trashtier]

[Levi would love to help with his meager healing, he really would. Unfortunately, he inhales a large dose of Mithrun's sweet wind before he can properly react and he's locked into attacking by a familiar confusion he hoped he'd never experience again.

The room spins around him. The horrors of what just transpired disappear into a dizzy haze. He rubs at his head in confused agitation before staggering forward. Who does he blame for this? Who does he take his ire out on?

He turns his attention toward Gorre (heads) and raises his hand, palm out.]

Hey, Gorre! Wanna know how this feels?

Data Drain Type D: Hammer!

[A massive hammer comes crashing down on Gorre's head, inflicting confusion.]

[secondthoughts]

[ It happens in slow motion.

Hector watches from his spot before his door, as Gorre rains attack after attack after attack on Fai. The dread sinks in, his fingers twitch; he has to do something. He has to help him, he has to do something, and damn it if he just watches and lets Fai and Yael get torn apart once again—

But the horror comes as he watches Yael dash in, from nowhere, and the blood, oh, the blood—

Warmth, weight, all on his chest, his hands, in his arms—

He doesn't hear himself shout "No!" He doesn't notice himself break into a run. He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's getting to his knees beside Fai and Yael, bright green grasses and colorful flowers springing to life around them as he sullies himself in the puddle of blood. Nature's Gift. Their health will be restored.

His head snaps up to Fai. His eyes determined, blue like the skies in a late summer storm. ]

Let me help. Tell me what to do.

[fluorite]

Help me stop the bleeding.

[ The portion of his robes he tore to buffer between Sheza's femoral artery and his hand has turned a deep, dark red. At least the puddle underneath them hasn't grown bigger. ]

This is the right thing to do, isn't it? I... I think I took a class at some point where I learned how to take care of this kind of thing in case it happened to me again.

[ He's rambling in his panic, but that's not such a bad thing, is it? It isn't, at least right now, he thinks. ]

Your spell should at least help with our HP. [ And because he owes Hector this, despite all of his complicated feelings: ] Thank you.

[alchemicalbirth]

[ That...was a lot.

So much so that there isn't much he thinks he can say in time, just hurrying the way where Gorre and company is to try to catch up to see if he can intercede. But, he is a bit too slow, and gets caught up in Mithrun's...well, lovely status effect time.

Unfortunately, Albedo isn't doing a lot of helping. Holding his head, he turns towards Dehya and unleashes an attack of Ani Revolver (10) right her way. ]

[legendofthelion]

[Dehya's hit in her back as she surveys the chaos, whirling around to face Albedo with incredulity.] Not this again!

[So she slaps her hand out to straight up backhand Albedo. Get it together.]

[murrmoire]

[ Albedo when you asked him on a date he did not think that meant being your babysitter.

But it seems like Dehya's got it covered. She's been amazing in this fight!!!

Still, he will also (gently) smack Albedo for good measure. Even if he's snapped out of it by now. ]

[ophidie]

[She did this, didn't she?

Miharu is still reeling from being thrown back against her door by Gorre's fiery sword. She's fixed there, unable to do anything as Gorre strikes down again and again on the person who's been there her entire life, the only one she can remember irrefutably being her family.

She did do this. At the time it had been such a smart little plan, no matter who got caught in the collateral. If the panicked yelps she releases aren't indication enough, it should be obvious: She doesn't feel that way now. Much like Yael's leg, it's possible there's a piece of her that won't quite leave this arena intact.

It doesn't really matter, when Mithrun's confusion spell sets in, who she is attacking or protecting or who is falling. It'll do the same amount of damage anyway.

Just as Sinclair slams Mithrun's door shut, Miharu's Gan Smash (20) clears the floor of the cathedral and slams into him in turn; in lieu of knocking him down, the critical hit plasters him straight against the door he just closed.]

[tablescraps]

( With shuddering breaths, Sinclair's voice cuts clear and through; he knows it's not real, he knows it's not, but he can feel him, he can hear him and he wants to kill him more than anything—

But Sinclair's presence cuts short with Miharu slamming Sinclair flat against the door; the sounds and sensations hush, but the violence churning in him hasn't ceased, nor the buzzing hunger, nor the echoes of his voice murmuring his name in his ears. An enemy, an enemy, an enemy? She harmed Sinclair, so she must be, and he'll kill all of you to get to him,

Mithrun's hand juts out grabbing Miharu by the calf - and with painful grip and violent force, yanks her down to the ground and whips her closer with clear sign he intends to lunge for her throat— )

CORE USE 2/3

[tinged]

[ cruelty, kindness - all necessary, all important. it hurts, these memories, but out of love, michel had accepted every single part of them, and out of love, they will accept every single part of him. michel never would have wanted them to see, without his consent, but he might have needed someone to know. know that... these broken, bitter things were also parts of a man named michel bollinger. ]

A trace. That's what he wanted. [ they bear these heavy memories, letting tears keep them afloat. using their core, they cast data drain type H: all for everyone because... ] And he left more than that. In so many of us, he left beautiful imperfect pieces of himself, so that here, now, we can come together and help him find every single piece again. He's not lost.

You simply can't understand how important his existence is, and it's not yours to take away. It's his choice; do not impose your incomplete data on him. You lack everything he is. Michel is Michel.

[insinning]

Hani...

[Sinclair is slumped by Mithrun's door, but when Hani's heal washes over them, he gets up again, shaky but whole]

He is. So...we should show him by showing how we can carry our own cruel memories. Light and dark. Together.

[They all needed to open their own doors]

[glassbell]

[ Oh that awfully sweet scent, it has him in a terrible haze. The tiles, the pews, the windows, they blend together. But what the fuck did he just witness before. He couldn't even register it in full with this status effect.

But he's done. No more crushing the hopes of people who want their friend, and no more maiming people.

He can see red flames amidst the blur. That's easy enough to parse. Fire it is. ]

You piece of shit. Burn.

[ A lot of fire at that, with a blazing slash aimed right at Gorre— Vak Spiral (20). ]

[insinning]

[Sinclair is moving before he can even think. It doesn't matter. Mithrun is hurting badly now and he has to make it stop. There's nothing he can do for Yael or Fai. But he knows Mithrun and--

'Stop touching my hair? Who would--ah. I see'

He understands]

Mithrun--snap out of it! You're here, in reality. Look around you!

[He charges for Mithrun's door and slams it shut with a Juk Punisher (14), cutting off the tether before Michel can drain too much from Mithrun. Then he's looking for Ganymede, and shouting. It hurts. It hurts, he didn't want to see that again. Michel, on the floor, in pain, and]

Close Michel's door!

[ophidie]

[yeet

i think marimo went to work but she did say for posterity that sinclair will slam an hp pot after this btw, for numbering]

[insinning]

[hp back up...thanks for closing his door btw ]

[justonezero]

[In the critical moment, Nanashi freezes.

It's one thing to monitor people's health bars, swapping through parties like flipping through the pages of a book. It's another to see an enemy go after a single person, raining blow after blow after blow, blood and screams and a severed leg.

He freezes. And only after, when it would be too late had no one else stepped up - does time for him flow once more and he gets enough wits about him to raise his scythe.]

Ph-- pha repth!

[Saying the spell aloud, as though to remind himself of it, of his job, the whole reason he's here right now. It's enough; Mithrun will feel the effects of a full heal instantaneously.]

[tablescraps]

( Mithrun looks like he's somewhere between violence and breakdown, but the heal comes through, so he's no longer so haggard; thanks, buddy. )

[deto]

[ a hand on his back, firm and warm. okay?

it kinda looks like they need to beat the heck out of this gorre guy now that limbs are flying so a moment with nanashi is all he gives himself before he runs up to punch. fire punch punch punch (18) for the fourth time ]

[justonezero]

[He looks to Deto, pale but determined. He's back in the game, he can handle this.

Do what needs to be done.]