aw fuck not this asshole again (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trollophoroi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
altimit2023-11-18 01:43 am
trollophoroi) wrote in altimit2023-11-18 01:43 am
Σ Turbulent Distrusting Ice Wall
Who: Fidchell the Prophet and two fateful parties.
What: A prophecy foretold.
When: 11/21, Night
Where: The city formerly known as Lumina Cloth.
Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideation, violence.
[ Something appears to be afoot in the night-shrouded city of lights, Lumina Cloth. Ever since the fall of Innis and Magus, it has begun to grow colder, and colder, and colder. NPCs begin to glitch in and out of existence as the days crawl along until one day, they are no more, and it begins to snow.
Throughout this entire ordeal, a strange yet familiar figure dressed gaudily in blue and feathery robes can be witnessed watching from a distance.
Everything ices over, the lights flickering out one by one, plunging the entire city into darkness... until... until?
Only after the city has been buried in snow and covered in ice do the lights all snap back on and those who enter the Root Town will discover a horrific sight: Telophoroi Tower has risen high over the frozen landscape at the center of the city, overtaking the rest of the buildings. It is far larger and much more dangerous-looking than before, with more metal, more spikes, and an ominous mist clinging to it from all angles.
There is only one person who could possibly be waiting here.
Approaching the tower will plunge the players into the mist.
Nearly all will find themselves turned around but a few, those lucky few, will find themselves entering the dark, empty halls of the guild @ home once known as Telophoroi. Steps echo, emptiness reigns, no sign of even Cultist Grunty anymore. Those stairs are new, though, and they wind up and up and up towards the very tip-top of the tower.
Do you dare to climb them...? ]
What: A prophecy foretold.
When: 11/21, Night
Where: The city formerly known as Lumina Cloth.
Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideation, violence.
[ Something appears to be afoot in the night-shrouded city of lights, Lumina Cloth. Ever since the fall of Innis and Magus, it has begun to grow colder, and colder, and colder. NPCs begin to glitch in and out of existence as the days crawl along until one day, they are no more, and it begins to snow.
Throughout this entire ordeal, a strange yet familiar figure dressed gaudily in blue and feathery robes can be witnessed watching from a distance.
Everything ices over, the lights flickering out one by one, plunging the entire city into darkness... until... until?
Only after the city has been buried in snow and covered in ice do the lights all snap back on and those who enter the Root Town will discover a horrific sight: Telophoroi Tower has risen high over the frozen landscape at the center of the city, overtaking the rest of the buildings. It is far larger and much more dangerous-looking than before, with more metal, more spikes, and an ominous mist clinging to it from all angles.
There is only one person who could possibly be waiting here.
Approaching the tower will plunge the players into the mist.
Nearly all will find themselves turned around but a few, those lucky few, will find themselves entering the dark, empty halls of the guild @ home once known as Telophoroi. Steps echo, emptiness reigns, no sign of even Cultist Grunty anymore. Those stairs are new, though, and they wind up and up and up towards the very tip-top of the tower.
Do you dare to climb them...? ]
no subject
I had thought ordering in was special since it's so new but if you'd rather do something else, you know I don't mind.
[ He says it with a laugh and turns to watch Hector go as he whirls away into the kitchen. There's another brief flicker, a change, and the next voice that answers him is none other than Fandaniel. Wait, that... Again, there's confusion. That's right, but wrong, but also right, but still wrong, and hadn't he already said he'd ordered something from...? ]
Three years now. Why? Don't tell me that you've forgotten.
[ Ah, the illusion is falling into shambles. Damn Hector's indecisive mind. ]
1/2 cw psychosis
Hector strides into the kitchen, though he briefly pauses when he hears yet another voice. Fandaniel? Fandaniel...isn't right, is he? Whoever he lives with, whoever lives in this perfect little world with him isn't Leo. Isn't Fai. It can't be Fandaniel. Who is it, then? He carefully follows the seams of his life and finds the threads fraying, unraveling. What is going on?
Who is this? ]
Why would I forget?
[ He chuckles quietly as he comes to a stop at the counter. He pulls one clean plate from the dish rack, and another. Ah, the smaller ones have been cleaned, too. He stacks one on top, his hand hovers over the other as he speaks. ]
Do you remember what I said to you when I first told you how much I love you?
[ There's a fondness, amusement in his voice. Though it poses as fond reminiscing, it's another test. Because the more he thinks, the more he finds the flaws. The more he thinks, the more firmly he believes this isn't one of his episodes. He knows himself and his psychosis well enough to know that he never rifles through people so quickly like this.
His fingers finally rest on the edge of the small plate, force slight, but grip tight. The rational part of himself, the part he has worked so very hard on to find his peace, tells him not to do it. But he has to. Because this is wrong. ]
2/2 cw dv
In one swift movement, he lifts the plate from the dish rack, whirls on his heel, and launches it, with all his might, at whoever stands there now. It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter.
His chest heaves, eyes wide with panic and fury, as he looks at the blood and the scattered shards of ceramic. ]
Leave. Me. Alone.
me laughing at who the wheel landed on last
Hector will find himself ejected from the pod, covered from head to toe in the ooze that had been within it. It loses its warmth rapidly now that he's out in the arena. He is alone there with Fidchell, no others in sight, and the Face Your Fate (Alone) debuff pings into existence for him. It leaves him with a massive damage down. ]
My, my, so violent. No wonder you fear devoting your life to one soul!
this, too--
Hector tumbles from the pod, sputtering, angry. Was there any meaning to playing with his heart like this? What was the point if the fantasy couldn't even pick one person for him to settle down with? Why give him the glimpse of a future he'll never have?
He looks up at Fidchell, defiant, and spots the debuff in the process. He almost scoffs. What good does a hit to attack power do against a Harvest Cleric? ]
You can't trick us. [ He ignores the statement outright. Without his memories of the real world, this accusation holds no water. He slams the end of his staff into the ground, casting Ap Vorma on himself—this'll increase his magic defense. He may not be strong enough to defeat Fidchell, but Fidchell will never bring him down. ] Whatever fate you pick for us will never be as good as the one we create for ourselves. Now give Fandaniel back and we can be done with this already.