Event: Arrogance is in Everything I Do

[morrowmods]

arrogance is in everything I do

a cold wind | devotion | beautiful things | ooc notes

if you think my winter is cold

A Cold Wind For the last several weeks, the village has been blessed by visions of the future and of the gourd-creatures that came to visit at night. But that all appears to be taperiong off entirely. Townsfolks disposed of the carved pumpkins once they started to spoil, and the monsters subsided accordingly. For now, at least.

Since then, the temperature has been steadily dropping. The standard novitiate robes increasingly feel thin against the elements, though those who have achieved higher levels will find thicker outerwear provided to them, progressively ornate in accordance with rank. Some of the veterans who refuse to pledge to a higher rank try to spread word of places outside of town where beasts can be hunted for their pelts, though the native townsfolk all advise against following the suggestions of "those rascal vandals," if asked. They insist that nothing good lives out there.

But there does seem to be a bonus for those brave enough to venture out into the verdant patch between the graveyard and the monastery, a boon to those seeking a bit of extra warmth, a protein other than the stews and soups usually offered, or just a new adventure. Though they aren't always visible, a patient hunter might notice a faint scratching sound just before a patch of soil unsettles itself. That small warning is all they'll have before a thorn-pelted creature digs its way up from underground and bounds onto the grassy knoll. They are enormous beasts, standing at more than half the height of an average man. They also seem to be more earthen than a traditional Dire Wolf, with pelts that appear far more akin to vines and branches than traditional canines. But those that slay such massive beasts will find that their skin can be pruned down into a coat as well as any normal wolf pelt. The meat cooks up just as well, if the taste is a bit gamey. At the very least, it's an animal that provides its own garnish.

opulent and imperial

Devotion The Devotion ceremony this lunar cycle focuses on revering the gifts received from the Old Ones. Ornamentation is the order of the day, and the church officials have spared nothing in their elaborate decoration of the devotional space. The hall is opulent, dazzling in the precious metals and gemstones draped over nearly every surface. Even the masks issued to devotees are gold and silver, often encrusted with heavy stones. Some revelers wearing robes of higher ranks are also wearing ornate neckpieces to allow for additional support to prevent their heads from bowing under the weight of their personal decorations.

The speeches this month explain the connection. Out of all the riches and finery that the Old Ones have brought to Revelbrooke, none are more precious than the pilgrims from other worlds. They are the true vessels of the will of the Old Ones, destined to bring their village into a new era. And for this proof of Devotion, they pray in thanks and appreciation for these gifts, which the town will watch over and polish until even the most rebellious novitiates have accepted the Old Ones into their hearts.

As silly as the intelligible portion of the sermon might sound, something feels strange when the elders slip into chanting in the tongue of the Old Ones. The travelers from other worlds will begin to feel an odd sort of rigidity settle over them. Perhaps at first it feels like the urge to sit up a little straighter, or to speak more formally than they normally would. But somehow, by the end of the sermons, all this finery makes much more sense. Of course this celebration is for them. Why isn't every Devotion dedicated to them? They are the gifts from beyond the stars, aren't they? It's high time that they are recognized for what they are.

This air of nobility will remain with them for the remainder of the evening, as even the sloppiest fishmonger novitiate is careful to use every utensil for its intended purpose and sip drinks with a pinky out. Surely everyone will remain polite and full of decorum, lest the festivities end with a proper midnight duel. Proper swords would be provided in such a case, but the church officials would really prefer that conflicts not go quite that far...

Unfortunately for those who skipped the Devotion ceremony, the attendees will return to their homes still carrying themselves with an overblown arrogance that they won't start to shake until they've gotten a good night's sleep. Hopefully there aren't any peas under their mattresses to keep them awake and cranky until their pretty princess needs are met.

rich in keepsakes

Beautiful Things Normally, the Devotion is easily discarded with no real outward indication that one was in attendance. But this time, there is no hiding that one went to hear the elders speak, regardless of how they feel about the experience when they return to their senses. From the moment they wake after their post-Devotion cooldown, they'll find an ostentatious gemstone embedded in their foreheads. Likewise, their robes will be encrusted with matching stones, marking them as precious and delicate, the blessing of the Old Ones. Trying to remove the head-stones will prove itself a dangerous endeavor: the skin around the stone feels more like a smooth, hard porcelain, and is apt to crack before it will yield the glittering mark.

For the first few days, it might just exist as a gaudy annoyance. But over time, that hard feeling spreads, leaving a sense of being hollowed out somehow. If they're the type to study their religious texts, they might find themselves losing focus mid-verse and instead begin whispering in a tongue they haven't learned yet, manifesting the moaning, slurping sounds that pledge themselves to be an empty vessel for the Old Ones to use. The fits are temporary, and can be interrupted by an onlooker, but engaging in such prayer will make their gemstone take on a faint glow, giving the rest of their face a gaunt and sunken-eyed look in comparison.

After about a week, the gemstone-marked are nearly untouchable. The townsfolk are kind enough to send extra portions and blankets since so many of them report feeling unwell, but none of it seems to help with the feeling of hollowness. Moreover, the mark seems to have left them afflicted with a physical fragility as well. The threat of skin cracking around the gemstone is very real now, and has spread throughout their entire bodies. Even though they can move normally enough, their bodies have grown almost glasslike in durability. A bad fall could shatter a person's leg into pieces too small to set back together, and a simple game of tag could quickly turn lethal. But that too is the will of the Old Ones. Their pretty vessels are not built for roughhousing. Perhaps they are best left on a shelf until this too passes.

ooc notes

With apologies for the holiday-related delay on this post, please enjoy our event to carry us from late November into the start of December.

What's that I hear? You wanted to murder a giant wolf? Well have some stats for it, if that's the sort of thing you find helpful when threading out combat.

It seemed like a few folks were interested in having some deaths facilitated, so there might also need to be some parameters about that fragility curse in the back third of the event. Essentially, people affected with gemstones will slowly find their bodies taking on the properties of fine china, with all the risks that material normally entails. After a certain point left to player discretion, they are literally breakable. If someone with an advanced case is injured enough to break, there will be no blood or internal organs damaged; they're literally hollow with nothing inside of them. If you want to play out a broken/damaged limb or small injury that's put back together with some krazy glue and desperation, it will heal after the event but leave scars along the repaired lines. It's up to you if a completely broken body creates an immediate death or if the head can keep functioning independently until the event naturally wears off, at which point the broken person-pieces will become a pile of gore that needs to be scooped up. In cases of resurrection, the church officials will also take shards of broken novitiates and restore them within the normal death/rebirth timeframe.

Happy RPing! See you in a few weeks when the next TDM rolls around.

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Comments

QUESTIONS

[morrowmods]

Re: QUESTIONS

[reflectionless]

Do the thorny critters bleed blood? Asking for a vampire friend.

Re: QUESTIONS

[morrowmods]

They bleed blood but the taste would definitely be off. If Astarion is into spinach smoothies, it might be an interesting taste? It's probably the closest a mammal can come to tasting like salad.

[reflectionless]

That is amazing he will hate it vampires should not have to deal with things tasting vegan

Thank you :D

[wovensecrets]

- How successful would someone be if they were going to try to amass more robes/blankets by 'borrowing' (Taking) a few here and there when the washer-folk are preoccupied?

- If one just observes the wolves, how aggressive are they to bystanders if they show no intent to fight on sight? or is their relations with humans pretty much kill or be killed?

[morrowmods]

- Probably very successful! The washerwomen would probably suspect children long before they could trace it back to newcomers sneakily lining their garments with extra protection.

- The wolves are pretty territorial, so they're likely to attack if you cross into "their" space. It should be fine to observe them from afar, though!

Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 (CW: Body Horror, Character Death in the third prompt)

[reflectionless]

[ 1. A Cold Wind ]

[Astarion has already been venturing out beyond the bounds of the village, into the greener places since, well, eventually the villagers are going to notice their livestock being sucked dry, and he really doesn't want to resort to eating rats unless he has no other choice. So he hunts, late night, when few eyes are open to watch him. Or at least he hopes.

So the idea of perhaps making a bit of barterable income if he brings back a decent pelt or two is extra appealing. Gods know he has been forced to subsist with far too little in this place.

He's not expecting the odd plant thing to ambush him from underground, however, one takes opportunities when they present themselves. He misses his daggers but the stolen borrowed knives he has are better than nothing, and his fangs are ready too.

Perhaps you come across him in combat and feel compelled to assist.

Or maybe you find him after he's made his kill, fangs sunk into the creatures neck before he draws back with a grimace, a small stream of green-tinged blood trailing down his chin.]

Ugh. Why does it taste like kale of all things?

[This beyond burger of a beast can go to hell.]


[ 2. Beautiful Things - Beginning ]

[Given Astarion's general attitude that he is a fine, high class gift to everyone and anyone around him -- mask though it may be -- there's not a lot different about how he acts when he leaves the ceremony. In fact, it might have been impossible for anyone to even have known anything is different, if it weren't for the gem.

He doesn't notice it at first -- one of the consequences of having no reflection -- though he does notice the fact that his robes are now covered in rubies, deep and blood red, matching the one that's set into his forehead. Eventually he figures it out, just before the stranger feelings begin to settle in. For a man who is already a walking corpse, he still somehow looks like a ghost of himself walking through the streets.]

Something... is very wrong.

[Is he talking to himself? Or to whoever happens to be near? In either case, it's clearly a call for help, even if his tone is oddly conversational.]


[ 3. Beautiful Things - Shattering CW: Body Horror, Character Death ]

[He had to feed. There wasn't any avoiding it. He had to feed, despite the condition. Or maybe that only made his hunger and desperation worse. He feels wrong, empty. Maybe blood will help. It could help!

It doesn't. Or well, if it does, Astarion never gets to find out. What should have been an easy hunt goes wrong and he learns with a cold, sick horror just how empty, how fragile, he has become. A misstep, a feint that goes badly and leaves him being knocked hard into a tree, and the sound of shattering glass.

By the time he makes it close enough to the village to be encountered, things have gone from bad to worse. One arm is completely missing, the sleeve of his robe hanging empty. Spiderweb cracks have splintered across the entirety of his body. His always porcelain-pale skin is slowly shattering. Pieces have already fallen out here and there, a space missing in his neck, another at his jaw, his forehead, all glimpses into the shadowy nothing that he is inside.

Wide crimson eyes, the same color as the ruby still embedded in his forehead, are full of undisguised panic.]

Help me... Please, I need help.

[It's probably too late for help. Every move he makes, the cracks seem to splinter further.]


[ 4. Wildcard ]

((ooc: anything not here that you'd rather do? hit me! here or at seasided.))

3. Let's face it, I want angst

[nethereseorb]

[ Gale Dekarios was wandering through the forest, he had not attended the devotional and he had no interest in doing so, though he had heard about it throughout the household and likewise he was not fond of the after-effects for there were certain people that had become quite simply insufferable.

Astarion.

It was Astarion.

And so he had distanced himself, he let Astarion lord it over everyone however he wanted no part of it. What he was scavenging for? Remains to be seen, perhaps he was looking for a cat out in the wild-- maybe for interesting clues as to the civilization they were embroiled within, maybe even arcane secrets.

The sound of something, a half scream, have whine and the tone of it; he would recognize that tone anywhere. And for all of their differences, he was on his feet and with surprising dexterity he was making his way attempting to follow it. ]

Damn it, Astarion-- [ He shouted as loud as he could ] I'm coming, stay right wherever you are!

[reflectionless]

[It was hard to blame Gale, at first at least, because yes he had become even more insufferable than usual, and that level was already quite high. But once the arrogance faded into that hollow, terrible feeling, well, he had wished the wizard was around. But whatever he didn't need anyone, clearly. He'd been on his own most of his undeath or at least without anyone he could properly consider a friend or ally and he could do it even better now alone since he had his free will and everything and...

Well, it hadn't gone well. Clearly.

When he heard Gale's voice, his head jerked up, another shard of him falling away, the tip of a pointed ear. That was Gale. He'd know that voice anywhere. For the first time since he'd felt himself begin to shatter, he felt something like relief. He did stop in his tracks.]

Gale! I'm over here... if you could hurry, darling, I would appreciate it. [An attempt at his usual sardonic tone, but there was no hiding the fear in it, the panic.]

[nethereseorb]

[ It took far too long for Gale's liking to finally reach Astarion and the sound of fragmented cracking was like something that wretched at him, it splintered through his heart and he forgot completely about their argument-- whatever it was, it did not seem quite important now, did it? He finally got to the little copse of trees where Astarion was and in the pale moonlight he saw something crash to the ground, shatter into a thousand little bits.

How was he supposed to..?

He almost nearly did not think until the very last moment-- he watched a leave fly from a tree glide down to that shoulder, and he could hear the slightest sound underneath as if the fragile skin could not bear the weight. He has no glue and even if he did.. something was utterly futile about a thousand pieces and none of where he knew where to place them. Gale could not resist it though, he gingerly reached for Astarion. ]

How can I, what can I do to help?

[ The normally calm and quite benign voice (insufferable in it's own right) was now edged and laced in the faintest bit of hysteria. ] Damn it, I wish I knew mending.. the world would be so much simpler if I could cast my spells.

[ Ah but there was the crux of the matter, he could not. ]

1, sorry for late but i laughed

[ourtomorrow]

[ ...

Well, Ken had known not all of the new arrivals had been human, so this isn't, perhaps, as surprising as it could have been. But....

...vampire....? And the blood.... ]

...They really are part plant.

[ ....it's green. ]

[reflectionless]

[Well, shit. For a moment Astarion debates his options, one of which is casually murdering the person who's just found him out, but that seems like bad form. And besides, this person isn't shrieking or trying to come at him with a stake so he'll roll with it.

He does grimace though and wipe a hand across his mouth again.]

So it would seem, yes. It was a rather unfortunate surprise. I'm not really the salad type.

[Bleeech. Health food. Not that he should complain. It's still likely better than the putrid rats his master had liked to feed him for most of his time as a vampire. But he's been spoiled by much more pleasant blood recently.]

[ourtomorrow]

[ Ken has had extremely bad experiences with vampires in the past but he's also one to take people on a case by case basis, and this man had chosen to hunt the creatures they'd been recommended to seek. He digs in a pocket of his robes, coming up with a clean scrap of fabric he's been carrying around as a handkerchief, and offers it. ]

Were you hunting for a pelt, then...?

[ ...the vampire's meal certainly seems to have been carnivorous, itself, from its own teeth. But it - photosynthesizes? Two nutrition sources? ]

2

[wovensecrets]

[ She is trying to do her part in their little agreement to help watch his back, whenever their paths cross, but that's slightly more difficult to do when he attends the ceremony that she had pointedly avoided... and seems to have gathered rubies for his troubles.

Still, she knows enough to be cautious. A jewel in his forehead instead of those tentacles he feared seemed to be a step up, right? Probably not, with some of the things she's seen, though if he was acknowledging something being wrong... probably a good time to let him know she was there. ]

...What is it?

[reflectionless]

I'm not entirely sure...

[No tentacles, that is positive. He does agree with that much at least, but the jewel in his forehead and the oddly growing hollowness inside him is unsettling.]

I feel wrong, somehow. Like I'm losing something about himself.

[A sigh.] I sound so dramatic. I mean, even more than usual.

Gale Dekarios | Baldur's Gate 3

[nethereseorb]

:A COLD WIND: "Looking for a Fight"

Those robes were absolutely insufficient and thus he would go out with the others to hunt for belts. Without his magic, he was fairly useless but he did have his intelligence and there was a kit of medical supplies that he could bundle up and take with himself. He was absolutely not going to lose this opportunity to assist in any way that he could and thus he had made sure that everything was secure and tight; the fire embered so as to note catch on fire.

And then it was off pelt hunting.

Gale glanced over at the person next to him, an apologetic look on his face as he steadied himself with his large oaken staff (another such weapon he would be able to use, indeed-- it could not cast fireball but that was fine.). "We can also use this opportunity to restock our food stores with whatever animals that we nip the pelts off; I stew would also be nice during these cold times-- I hope you do not mind if I hide behind you, I am after all a rather squishy wizard with very little in terms of magic."

How he wished for his magic though.

:DEVOTION: "You failed me once--"

[ After what had happened with himself and Astarion, he was rather uninclined to believe anything that the elders said. Not yet; he was not ready to give his devotion to these elders who had ceremoniously messed with everything, that comfortable balance himself and Astarion had walked the fine line of. A single night and then the consequences, and the ensuing awkwardness when everything had been perfect.

And thus he would casually repudiate the ceremonies for the time being. Although he did get to hear it from everyone upon coming back, and most pronounced from Astarion who thought this all such a great idea to begin with. Gale would be around to argue with the inflated self-importance of anyone who had attended the ceremony or further more commiserate with those who had not. ]

I absolutely will call them out on this ludicrous undertaking, and I utterly refuse to be cowed by some syncophants who clearly are toying with us.

:FINE THINGS BREAK: "holding the pieces in the palm of my hands"

The night that Astarion died, Gale came back to the novitiate cottage drenched in his own blood with a dozen cuts arching up his neck, against his forearms; his robes slashed in certain places-- clutched in his hand was a hand, like hard glazed glass (which oops, was going to turn into a real bloody hand soon after the event, gross) And oh such a despondant look on his face, sadness as it arched through him but likewise left him in a state of numbness. Lae'zel had gone, and that left them, and now it was only him.

For the next couple of days, one would not see hide or hair of Gale. Knocks to his door would reveal no answer initially, a little space of time afterwards-- it would come out in a muffled "I am fine." as he curled up in his room. As he thought of the fights that they had played through leading up to that. He'd called Astarion a fool for believing what the sermons said, used the fact that they were also told the world was to end and look where it got them. But those had erupted into a flurry of harsh passioned words.

The Wizard of Waterdeep regretted ever unkind word he spoke especially when he remembered how Astarion had keened, frightened over his impending death.

[ooc: this one above is open ended, feel free to check on him in the room. He will also come downstairs after two days and attempt to resume the whole 'taking care of the household thing' in the novitiate. Feel free to call him out or even notice that he's having a hard time.]

WILD CARD

HMU at zauberdecke if you want, also-- my inbox is always open for plotty-plots.

WILDCARDS AT YOU

[reflectionless]

It was, perhaps mercifully, a bit of a blur, the way it had ended. He remembered the terror, the distant feeling of his body shattering piece by piece, how cold everything had been, right until the moment that he'd found Gale, or well, that Gale had found him. Then the cold had warmed and there was that smallest sliver of comfort. Then the world fell away from him, or perhaps he from it.

Waking up alive once more had come with its own set of quiet terrors, being surrounded by strangers, the taste of their blood on his lips. Confused, frightened, changed. Something of himself had not come back from death with him, and he knew it. Once he was back on his feet, wrapped in robes and set back out into the village, he found his steps leading him not to his own housing, no, somehow he found himself on Gale's doorstep. He wanted to see him. Needed to see him.

The pale elf somehow looked even paler, shadows under his eyes a bit darker, haunted somehow. He had been dead, in the clutches of oblivion and now he was back. He knocked on the door, stepping back to wait, his own ghost come back from the grave. Again. At least he hadn't had to claw himself out of the dirt this time.

Maybe that was the bright side.

Gods he needed to see Gale.

[nethereseorb]

Thankfully Gale would be up, there was a light on coming from the house though the curtains had a way of obscuring all that went on inside. He had been up til the late hours of the evening reading because sleep was hard-- he'd been on and off sleep cycle since that time and it had been so tempting to succumb to whatever depression had blanketed him; sure-- the people within the house had attempted to provide what little comfort and he'd put on a fine mask for them.

He'd even kept so busy, so so busy insofar as that there was never a free moment to think-- think about how Astarion's body had felt shattering within the circle of his arms, the reminder of sticky slick blood as it glimmered against his skin-- his blood as he took in the sharp edges that Astarion had become.

The knock on the door sounded and he glanced up from where he was sitting, then very carefully he placed strip of silk within to mark his place (he was not a monster) and then after settling it aside, he walked to the door to answer it. It was thankfully Gale who answered, and for a moment he looked at the shadows as his very human eyes adjusted to the dark and then he saw the form, the robes a bit nicer-- the hair tousled per usual and eyes that looked haunted.

"You're..."

The words got stuck in his throat and felt painful there. "Astarion...?" gods, of all the times to revert to mute, it had to be now. But truth was that he had not been in the mood for words since he had quarreled with Astarion, since he had felt the crackling of skin underneath his hands.

Was he going to cry? He was uncertain even as he felt something welling up there, perhaps it was the mist, it had to be something-- in his eyes. "Is this, are you a ghost come to haunt me?" his voice hoarse, barely perceptible.

a new option approaches

[wovensecrets]

Things were abruptly turning even more unsettling around here in a way that Kaori did not like, if she even knew the half of what was going on in this world. Most of it, she as ever solved with avoidance. People existing with very visceral emotions, not something to get mixed up in, if it could be avoided. She'd paced, she'd showered, she'd fidgeted, but there was just no answers for these kind of quiet oddities. So she quietly would work, ink on the walls, a new musical cleft for the moustached wall of eyes, rearrange any furniture not nailed down, with bouts of sewing thrown in. There really was too much time in a day when all one had was time and the desperate need for distraction, and there were too many days to throw herself into this idle busywork.

Unfortunately she was also a creature of habit that had inexplicable bouts of loneliness - not that she'd ever truly admit to it to herself, but it was easy to note, when the familiar faces were suddenly not there anymore, even the house taking on a quiet pall when the wizard retreated and no one else seemed around. And outside of the home, even less familiarity remained, with no clear answers why.

On the days Gale hadn't even emerged to cook, she had to fend for herself with the ingredients, sometimes leaving an offering of a bowl of an attempt at a very simple soup by the door with extra blankets if he'd had it in him to answer a knock, but leave him enough time for privacy otherwise. It's not like she's concerned or anything, right? She can wait until he's ready to approach her himself.

[nethereseorb]

Gale had been consistantly aware of how Kaori had attempted to coax him back to the land of the living, in the blankets and the soup left at the door. And it did not go unnoticed whatsoever even as grief consumed him. Because he did not want to alarm Kaori, he did pull the soup in as well as the blankets; the blankets were useful and he wrapped them around him like a mantle.

The soup though, it felt like molten lead in the pit of his stomach. He made an attempt as much as he was able to take a little bit of sustenance, but he also knew he could not continue this way.

It was the third morning when finally he emerged from his room, taking care to perform the necessary ablutions, his hair pulled back and his eyes sad and tired. Footsteps would move heavy down stairways before finally he appeared at the landing, surveying the quietude of the house where they resided.

Archnemon | Digimon Adventure

[wovensecrets]

[ A. a cold wind - 1 ]

[ If there is one thing Archnemon (Kaori) is most likely to complain about, it is the sudden coming of the cooler weather. The house isn't too well insulated, and it makes going outside much more annoying with her feeling more sensitive to it than usual. Certainly, she'd thought it annoying or frustrating before, but she hadn't realized how harsh it truly was on a more delicate constitution. Humans, so fragile, and that's even without the blessing causing problems.

So, she might be trying to find as many spare robes or blankets that she can find to try and make a more insulated area. It's... better than being bored, but the availability seems limited, and while some people might seem more likely to chatter about "oh just go get yourself a pelt from the forest" she's not entirely inclined to want to do that, either, and not just because she can't exactly fight right now. She's more likely to see how far she can get away with making away with a spare set of robes or two when the washer-people aren't looking. That's a stealth mission. A child might be getting scolded somewhere for it, but that's a bonus, really. ]

They really like to hold out on quality here, don't they...

[ Well, not as if she's not accustomed to making do. Mostly it would be nice if someone were on hand to help distract them. Or to help sneak away the supply. ]



[ B. - a cold wind - 2 ]

[... Though at the very least, she is quite curious to observing the nature of the creatures that might be out and about, even if she doesn't have any intent to fight if they haven't started anything with her. They're "monsters", or at least so-called by the people here, but it seemed more reasonable to get to monitoring the wildlife out of curiosity to what else was trapped in here instead of the over-devoted people after a time. The other factor is, in order to know territory one has to explore it first, it is a begrudging task when there is so much unknown in play.

Whether she comes across someone deciding to take the fight out of them instead is another story, but mostly, if she's looking for an opportunity to explore and observe she doesn't really want to go about that alone either, if she can gauge who might be interested in that aspect to go along with her. Though she'd rather not get too close to the graveyard if she can help it. There's a certain dread she'd rather not deal with. ]

Hn, there should be something around here, right...?

[ At least it's not too dark out yet, but she doesn't trust visibility to last too long in a place like this, and she would prefer not to lose sight of her current 'buddy' either. Time for perception checks... ]




[ C. "Beautiful Things" ]

[ Something of an arrogant thing all on her own - and honestly, mostly considering her feelings during the last devotion, Kaori opted to be notably absent from these particular proceedings - clearly in part because it was also a good time to work on the blanket stash and not because she didn't want to particularly Feel anything or worse get put into a cycle of thinking about particular aspects she was still trying to avoid in most of her waking time.

Of course, curiosity does often beckon, to see who might and might not have attended afterward, because avoiding certain things and straight up ignorance of a matter are two different things. And while she might be able to play along to an extent, her acquired robes are nothing like the glittering ones possessed by the marked, but if they're offering extras, she'll gladly add that to the house stockpile.

Still, if someone with a case of particular fragility seems addled or irate in a way that they might actually need help and be grateful for it later, she might even assist, if it's relatable enough. She has her pride, but even the thought of shattering and going to pieces is a nightmare in itself- been there. Will she ever get proper sleep in this place. ]

H-hey, looks like you dropped this...

[ She's not going to immediately pick it up unless asked to, but hopefully it wasn't something too fragile. ]


[ wildcard ]

[ Feel free to wing it, or plot with me by dm or over here, or reach me over at shadedwhite for other ideas! ]

C i waffled about this but you know what? let's cause problems on purpose.

[ourtomorrow]

Hmph.

[ Ken has his jeweled robe drawn about him like a cloak, a mantle, a robe of royalty. He looks down his nose at Archnemon, eyes narrowed in disdain - or maybe that's just a side-effect of having a jewel embedded in his face.

That's....

That's a piece of his hair. It's begun to bristle as it stiffens, so he'd run a hand through it, and it had broken clean off....

Nonsense. That can't be possible. Not him, the chosen and invincible. Yes, as soon as he'd listened to the sermon (why had he ever eschewed it? caution? what was there to be cautious about) he'd understood - he WAS here because he was special. However could he have forgotten? This is his rightful place. And she. Well. She's less than nothing. How dare she interfere, how dare she make him wonder whether something is wrong? Whether this...this hollow feeling.....

But there is no hollow feeling, he reminds himself. And if there is, it's only because he has been paid insufficient laud. Yes. He's fine. Anything that isn't fine? Is definitely everyone else's fault. He should know. He's a genius.

The Digimon Kaiser (Old One Kaiser?) makes a "shoo" motion with one hand. ]

I don't need pity from insects.

always :D

[wovensecrets]

[ Oh how the turn have tabled. This was rich.

It could be so easy to be amused at this, a petty tickle for all the wrong reasons. So tall! So glittery! How easily that could be her right now, with him waiting to find her in that position, but instead it's him, whose existence she's felt so frustrated about, who apparently made all the wrong choices to put himself into a precarious position and seemingly none the wiser about it.

She knows the farce for what it is, and yet there's still something almost glorious about the display, the Kaiser buried underneath come back to ascend his throne of lies, even presuming to speak to her in that sort of way. It's a flash of giddiness, even if she knows, she knows - there's something more to it more horrible, buried underneath.

Here she was, being charitable. Pointing out to him how he was falling apart. Funny, how even the petty entertainment of it all suddenly felt hollow, she surely was better than to react purely on that conditioned response. ]

Oh? Then by all means, feel free to collect it yourself. Or don't, if you think I care.

[ She doesn't, right? No, it's just their script: Here he is poised for disaster, and here she is ready to toy, as though they hadn't been put in that position again and again, by other beings just toying with them over and over again. ]

A secret fourth option--

[nethereseorb]

Gale Dekarios had taken solidarity with Kaori, and likewise had refused to attend the devotional. He did not know what he had been expecting, perhaps a coterie of black robed syncophants coming to drag them to the liturgical services or some sort of lowkey disaster engulfing novitiate house #1.

But all there was now was staring eyes, perhaps a little more judge-y than they had been previously.

The fact of the matter was that Astarion had gone to the devotional and had been changed for it; I mean-- concievably, to Gale.. Astarion had always been a bit of the high and mighty about him, but it was absolutely ridiculous and he did not like it. In fact he could not stand to talk to Astarion for more than five minutes. Gale had just come back from Noviate House #2 where Astarion had told him that 'he should've gone'.

Nursing a cup of tea right now, he was mulling over this and trying to determine 'what do' with all of this.

[wovensecrets]

Avoiding the devotional had been a choice - tactical but not without it's concerns. First she'd remained far away from it, but eventually allowed herself to observe from a distance first, the actions and even the different looks of all those who had attended as they'd dispersed from the event. She realized all to quickly that having her head covered to feign 'fitting in' would not work so well, as those who had been jeweled did not seem shy about concealing it, so that might only get so far.

For now, though, mostly she's spent the time holed up in their shared home, trying to ever mindful of the other impending issue of Winter's not so subtle descent, as a round of pacing takes her out toward the sitting area, muttering to herself.

"Hnn, if it keeps getting colder like this it won't be any better than it was at Mount Fuji - oh! Mister Gale, I didn't know you were back in."

A good distraction. She found that she liked knowing where he was, at least, some sign of stability in what was going on around them.