#aopi2024

[atypicalsenerio]

Glowing Up - Team Pi [Sigurd & Soren]

Water Gathering Event Starter for @bxldrsdraumar

Soren wouldn't be surprised if they all died at this rate by something mundane before any monsters or enemy forces would even reach them, but he was going to make every effort to not let that happen. Normally, he'd post himself as the organizer of group resources, but they needed the resources first before any thought of distribution could occur.

People split up to go investigate and he wandered off by himself, staying within earshot of others in case he found something.

It took him back in all the worst ways. However, he wasn't a child anymore, and he had companions- companions whom he hoped would prove to not be hindrances. Expression stony, he headed downhill, searching low for water first thing, not wasting energy by venting fears or frustrations.

What he did find at first could be viewed as a trick of the light, but even in his own shadow, the pool of water before him, just inside the mouth of a cave, glowed a pale blue. Soren shallowly splashed the surface with his palm, feeling it to be exactly as water should be but not trusting the glow. Perhaps he should look deeper, but judging by how the pond was fed, with trickles from further up the cave feeding into it, he could expect more of the same. He frowned, looking for the closest person around.

"You- Sigurd, correct?"

In their previous life, he felt they probably had a neutral-bad relationship, but that didn't matter now. In fact, he may be about to make it worse.

"I've found what I believe is water, but I'm unsure if it's drinkable. It's all that seems to be around. Would you be willing to investigate with me?"

[twistedisciple]

"Griss." Lianna looked serious, though her eyes glanced around as though to check if anyone was nearby to overhear their conversation. "What... happened with Nephele? I need to know."

She paused and brought her hands together, rubbing her finger for a moment. "Was it intentional as the narrative seems to have taken, or was it an accident?"

“Huh?” Now this girl was getting too nosy, just like Soren had. Griss snorts. “What do you think happened?” He gives her a second to think of an answer but not long enough to actually voice it.

“I killed her,” he supplies matter-of-factly, even a little impatiently, before she has a chance, and stares back at her in challenge. Dare you to think otherwise, the flare of eyelids say, the curl of his upper lip all but an explicit threat.

“Just ask the kid’s mom. But I’m gonna keep hangin’ around here ‘til someone kicks me out.”

[renaisguy]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

O, creative spirit forged in strokes of brush and blade...

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you forge on forever alone - forsaking all and forsaken by all? Will you welcome the abyss?

Forde has an answer as soon as The Watcher is done talking. Then he thinks about it for a few more seconds, and decides his instincts were correct. A life alone isn’t worth living.

“As you said, there are some things I can’t live without. Thanks for the offer though.” He waves The Watcher goodbye, then turns over to go back to sleep. The presence doesn’t fade.

“What, do you want something else?” He’s a little snappy, but can you blame him? “You can’t expect a guy to get all introspective when he’s starving.”

[enarmor]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

There is something you can't do without.

O Knight, with such love and candor in your spirit,

Will you starve, or will you succumb to a heartless world?

It’s rather lonely to converse with your sleep paralysis demon, isn’t it?

But as Sain blinks, rubs the back of his neck with his hand and more importantly moves, he realizes this is no dream. It’s the dual edge of the crescent moon–gleaming white and stygian black. He could cloak himself in the splendor or fall into the pit in his own stomach. Quite the poetic fork in his road, he thinks. His eyes flare to life with excitement.

“Might I ask you something first?”

His gauntlet slides off his hand as he waits for a reply. He gets none. Fingers reach for food–grazing off a fowl’s bone and the flaky flesh of some fish–before silence is taken to mean ‘yes’.

One day, that habit will land him in trouble.

“You haven’t brought any to-go boxes, have you?” The air of their conversation flies like a harp’s song before slapping the Watcher in the face. Sain's question is asked in a high note, with a gentle turn of his head–as if he had even considered this a choice. “Because a feast is hardly complete without friends! There are a few I’d like to share this with.”

No response, again. This time, he chooses to interpret differently. “…No? Ah, what a shame,” the beast is poked on the nose, and Sain offers a parting shot before turning to leave, “I’ll take my chances on my own, then.”

[carefreemonk]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

O vessel of indifference,

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you forever more lose sight of the stars?

He'd been meditating. Must have dozed off.

The smell of delicious food is a lovely panacea for any weary soul. An effective alarum, too, worth more than any ol' rooster crowing at the top of its tiny lungs.

And so, Azama stirs.

This feels, he senses at once, eerily reminiscent of a vision he once had, when dearest papa had exiled him to a pilgrimmage through the mountains. Some gentle voice speaking down to him, whispering sweet nothings of death and oblivion...

Except, the last time, the voice had been trying to convince him that the gods were real, and not the other way around.

He already knows his answer.

His entire personality, his entire sense of self, is like to fall apart without his faith, after all.

He smiles at The Watcher.

"Pray, allow me to further meditate on it, yes~?"

And that in itself proves his answer. If the voice wants an answer, they're going to have wait a long, long time.

[freedomarrow]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

You, whose soul alights with a hunger for freedom,

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you leave all behind and become a mere puppet? Will you take up the shackles of your own accord?

Amidst the quiet lull of what can barely be called existence anymore, the Watcher calls out Leonardo's name, awakening his senses, if only briefly.

A feast manifests before him, tempting horribly and incessantly as his empty stomach longs for it, the desperation shooting through every fiber of his being like a lightning bolt,

at least, until the voice rings at the back of his head.

Will you leave all behind and become a mere puppet? Will you take up the shackles of your own accord?

His eyes meet those of the visitor for a short moment.

"They have tried to make a puppet of me... of us before."

He then turns away, his gaze choosing to slide over the wall rather than spare the feast offered even a single glance more.

"And I knew, I always knew... I would rather die free than live at the whim of others. I can then die at their whim, too, after all."

He shakes his head, not looking at The Watcher anymore.

"If I starve to death, so be it. I will have done so with no regrets."

[bxldrsdraumar]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

O proud knight, standing tall,

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you carry on knowing betrayal is that which awaits around every single turn?

"So, it's been you all along, has it?"

He looked up form where he hunched, seated, back to a wall, curled around his lance. His fingers rested loose around the haft, tremoring gently, as though having released from a long grip as his strength sapped from him.

The sleep hadn't helped - could never, not from the dull ache that had seeped into every inch of him, from the loosening fibers of his wasting muscles to the pinch of dehydration behind his eyes to the cavernous shearing in his gut. He suspected that many of his comrades may have found the discomfort shocking, deeply-seated and impassable, a pain insurmountable.

Sigurd had felt worse pain, only once before. He had never counted himself lucky over it, and yet now the benchmark brought him some semblance of solidity.

He stood, using his lance to prop him upright - proud knight, standing tall might have been an endearment or a taunt, but if nothing else he would not disappoint, if it were within his control - and he peered into the dark for a better look at this Watcher.

"Have you had your fill, then? Gotten from us what you can for yourself? It is easy to be powerful when everyone else has been weakened, isn't it?"

He took the barb in stride - these betrayals that it dangled in front of him, as though it knew him, as though it thought he could be reasoned with. The turns had stung, of course - emotions high and tight and aching desperately for commiseration - but it was not who these people were at their core.

So too their worst, the best is what makes them. He had to hold fast, had to have the hope that if he believed in those around him, that they would believe in him in kind.

"I'm afraid that if you want me to beg, it would be easier to kill me outright." It was said with no venom, no pointed vitriol nor bared teeth - almost pity, for it was a mistake that most only made the once. An easy mistake to make, for a normal man, he supposed.

"You may go," he said, and his grip about his lance tightened once more, the look in his eye glinting steel in the night. "If you return, I do not believe we will meet again under such friendly terms."

[sorcerese]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

You taste ash on your tongue.

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you succumb to a life devoid of the world's many little gifts? Will you go on, knowing all paths lead to the same, bland end?

yesterday’s dust falls out of the sky as silver on her eyelids : blink it away or don’t/undo the silence or don’t/hold your breath. blink once. no, twice. " what? " a raspy yawn draws out her voice. her vision blurred by the feathering ends of her lashes. what a sick joke. " are you serious? what kind of dung-filled choice is that? " she spits out a scoff as her other arm slings over her head, stretching herself out.

what else would you expect ? would she really let them fill her life with saltwater dreams and a sink full of lemons? ... not that she never understood those kinds of phrases in the first place — it felt like she speaking in only abstract. a foreign concept of sorts. ashes. it's unfamiliar to her ears / was this some sort of roundabout threat? she smirks.

it whispered back in her rosé - stuffed ears ; a lack of words formed and collapsed. " hah... " a laugh that dried up like desert rose. surely, it's not literal. even if it was did it even matter anymore. it pissed her off enough that one would unjustly pin a sort of conviction to her throat without a decent trial. if praying for an ambitious and fruitful life was a sin then so be it, she'll become one with the flames that she once wielded.

" who are you to say where my paths lead? i can step off the beaten paths that you'd think i'd take. or what if i never took them in the first place... " she clicks her tongue as her tone shifted with bitterness pressing against her tongue. " as a matter of fact, that's what i've always done. i'll do as i please, however i please. i don't have to follow anything or anyone. nor do i plan on EVER changing that. " she declares, clearly caught between two of the seven cardinal sins. wrath and pride vied for attention and it took a moment to remember which she needed more. the bites of scarlet deepening her already torn and dry lips. becomes too unbearable to dismiss. the emotions spread wider through her lungs growing from her ribs and coiling around her heart.

" you aren't in a position to tell me what i can and can't do, after all, you're not god. hells, even if you say you are, i don't have to believe it. you have no say in what my life will bring. if my dead gods couldn't influence me with all their power then neither can you. " the mage sticks out her tongue and pulls her eyelids down. " so, even if this was real and not a figment of my super duper tired imagination, i would rather starve than listen to whatever bullplop you're tainting my ears with, so kindly go away before i beat the living daylight out of you myself. " the mage sticks out her tongue and pulls her eyelids downwards before walking off with little to no care left in her.