#arc i.

[cosmosfated]

   The sound of metal falling upon earth is what disturbs the sanctity of a timeline holding its breath.  Black steel helmet cants to the side for a moment, listening and waiting and listening some more.  A whispering on the wind of something dark, yet darker.

   Hmm.

   The Knight has returned, but not as he had left.  He’s in armor, in various colors and symbols, and he has wards on his person.  His face is entirely covered by his helmet, with only glowing orange eyes being shown, knelt down sot hat he can rummage through something of a knapsack but definitely enchanted bag-of-holding-style.  He’s been granted the ability to do what he must for the objective he was given, and this is a stop on doing so, he just didn’t know why until now.

   It’s a brief survey of his surroundings that tugs him to eyeing a location still protected, except it has the signatures of two people who normally wouldn’t step in.  Not unless...well that’s worrying.  He then skips his gaze like a rock over water across other locations.  Other people.  He’d set foot in a sacred location in order to gain his bearings.  It isn’t as if people would know to look for him here, and to be quite honest, nobody really comes looking for the dead anymore.  Gives him free roam capabilities, now that he knows what to do.

   There’s just... something truly not right here.    Something ... that shouldn’t be happening.

   “... What ‘n tha’ right bloody ‘ell is goin’ on ‘ere..?”

[mfcourier]

     E V E N T   #01  ────  BACK TO SCHOOL BONFIRE .                                in-game time: august 17, 2018.

summer is coming to an end, and what better way to celebrate than a party and a massive fire in the woods that your parents   ( and certainly smokey the bear )   would never approve of? it’s the first major event of the school year and everyone’s invited! so come hang out, grab a drink, throw your syllabi into the fire, and enjoy the company. just remember to be careful wandering off on your own with that mountain lion roaming around the wooded outskirts of town . . . but then again, isn’t the fact that the woods have been so off-limits lately what makes it so much more appealing?

                                             ─────────────

let’s boogie, boys !!  mark and i are so excited to announce this first event and hope you all are ready to get a taste of what the set-up of the rp is going to be like. this event is fairly straightforward --- teens getting wasted in the woods, circa vampire diaries 2009. for those of you with characters outside of high school, don’t be afraid to crash the party! we might just have some ideas to help you out too. this will run from TODAY, MAY 20 to WEDNESDAY, MAY 24TH, but will just be the one evening in-game. you can do threads any number of ways, whether they’re gif chats, paras, etc. all of your starters can go under the vinctumstart tag, as well as vinctumevent! if you have any questions, just shoot us a message and we’ll be more than happy to clarify anything.

you all are free to begin posting interactions !!   we’re psyched to have you, hope you have fun, and can’t wait to show you what plans we have up our sleeves.

[cosmosfated]

@voidedfate

Did Lost ask for a grumbling son to lean against him slightly?  No?  Well at least he's a warm drapery.

He doesn't say anything for a bit.  Just stands there, face mostly hidden against the back of his papá's shoulder.  But when he does speak, his voice is tense, restrained ever so slightly- but it's enough to hear the frustration... and perhaps a touch of fear.

"that offer from before still open?"  One eye opens a sliver, a single weak pulse of pastel blue magic across his iris.  "about talking passionately?"

[cosmosfated]

The tip of the old Knight’s shoe taps against the ground as he “patiently” waits for the boy to answer his phone.  He knows that summoning himself on the low energy he had before will likely wear him impossibly thin, but this is too important to wait until the kid returns.  In fact, it’s because he’s gone that he has to know.

“Pick up...”

What’s with him and important business- well, no, he gets it. Fleur’s supposed to be on “vacation” from this.

“what happened, cayden?”

Cayden’s a bit surprised by the lack of frustration in the boy’s voice.  No, he’s more surprised at how... vibrant he sounds.  How... alert he sounds.  Alive.

“...Er.”  Blinkblink.  Right-!  “We’ve...a visitor.”

“oh? you don’t sound too thrilled. our runes should be more than enough to ward out anything undesirable. so long as it isn’t anything eldritch, anyway. it’s not eldritch is it?” “No, no. Not eldritch. Thank the- um. ...gods... which I do need to ask if you’d allow me to call upon my own later.” “...oh. um. yes, so long as you let faushar know, but...um...uh...” “Put it together yet?” “...mmm... ...which one?” “One moment.”

Cayden puts the phone on speaker  --  low volume, of course, as to not alert anyone to something being any more off than it already is, should they see him out here  --  and holds out his hands.  Starting to draw a simple design in the air.  A circle inside another circle, with a diamond within the first and intersecting the second’s outline, and then a star in the middle.  With a similar gesture to zooming in on one’s phone screen, the design enlarges to something that gives him direct and clear visual to the area around the cafe.  Bird’s eye view, of the magic surges in the area.  When he finds the origin of the surges and goes to a proper view of the person, he has to double take.

Olive-skinned. Brunette. Golden eyes. Brandishing the necklace of a very particular goddess.

“Harmonia is giving us a visit.”

There’s a sound on the other end of Fleur having had a swig of liquid in his mouth and he spat it out when he heard the knowledge.  “fuck!”

“... Did you spit-take?”

“no! fuck off!”

Cayden chuckles nonetheless.

“damn it...why is harmonia visiting?” “If I had to guess, it’s to do her job in the only way she knows how. “...” “I don’t know if you’ve noticed in your absence, Fleur, but...things have been changing. Not big things, not all at once, but they have and they continue to. There is...healing being done here. Things are going back to the way they should.” “...” “Certainly, not everyone will be happy with the result, but what’s right isn’t always the easy thing to do. Surely you know this.” “...” “Fleur, are you still there?”

Fleur sighs, on the other end.  “cayden i’ve known for a long time what the problem in the timeline is. i’ve known so much and i just didn’t know it. i’ve seen so much and i just didn’t see it. i’ve held so much to myself and i didn’t hold it at all. it was in my head, behind my eyes, on my skin. it was written on me, in me, with me.”

“I...”  How does he respond to this?  “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

There’s silence.

“Fleur?” “i’m the problem, cayden.” “I beg your pardon??” “i am. before you say i’m not, look at the evidence. look at the facts, cayden. i know you can see it just as much as i can. i’ve been gone for weeks now, and things are starting to get back to normal. if i had to guess, people are starting to confuse me with someone who died centuries ago, because that person did die centuries ago. there’s just not a body in the grave.” “Fleur, I know where you’re going with this, and there’s got to be another way---” “there isn’t. i’ve already tried everything else. the moment i return home, things will begin to decay again. the moment i return home, i will no longer remember what’s wrong, i will no longer be able to see things with the clarity i do now. i will be useless. do what you do best, cayden.” “Fleur-” “take notes. learn. adapt.” “Don’t you-” Click. “...hang up on me...”

Bright orange eyes stare sadly down at the phone, even as its screen goes dark.

“...Everyone’s happy ending should include you, Fleur...”

Misery should not be your shadow,  the knight thinks to himself.

[cosmosfated]

“the beginning?”

Now that’s a bit more difficult.  He can hardly remember the beginning, what started to make him so furious that he couldn’t vent it so he chose to bottle it up.

He scratches at the side of his face, trying to think.  It wasn’t Doc.  No, the fool crow made a mistake, perhaps, but he wasn’t the start.  When did that distrust of Fragments start?  Ohh, that was such a long time ago.  It was close enough to the start, but- oh, he couldn’t start there.  No no, not there.  That’d ruin those plans.  He could attempt to start with Nebulae, old man, a Fragment he wouldn’t have minded watching die.  That would be a obvious start, but not THE start.

Drat.  What’s a guy to do, with explaining why and yet still keeping some things barred?  Not out of any distrust with Lost, but just because, well, he’s a man of his word.  A promise made is a promise kept.

Face journey?  Oh absolutely.

“eeeuuhhh...”  Why should he focus on the negative?  No, that wouldn’t do.  He shrugs somewhat dismissively at his own thoughts, moving to be closer to his papa.  It isn’t like Lost would know any of these old fools, save for a certain crow they both know.

“well, i can say that one of the fragments that gave me a reason to at least try with every other fragment i met was this one really weird fragment i met in the void. he always collected things, same number all the time. messed with him a lot, pft. i feel kinda bad for him, looking back on what he had to deal with. that nonsense you saw earlier? he had to deal with that all the time. he had to occasionally leave me up to one of his friends so he could go see an old friend. i don’t think he raised any kids before, hah. but he’s one of the fragments that helped me out for a while, no matter how many times i initially threatened his life.”

@voidedfate

[cosmosfated]

... There's a shift of magic, dozens of timelines away.

In an Underground bound timeline of unknown origin, there's an odd 'forest fire' engulfing the entirety of Snowdin's forest but deliberately - somehow - missing the town itself and any wandering inhabitants. The residents are panicked and uncertain of what to do, as nothing they've done seems to cancel out the sudden inferno boxing them in and keeping them from doing anything else. No water seems to help, no magic seems to bite it at the base, it just rages and howls and roars with unforeseeable end.

Strange.

[cosmosfated]

Disconnect

Mood stabilizers don't numb the pain.

He's hiding himself away for a short time, needing a few minutes of the day in order to collect himself.  Each passing mumble that crosses his ears, he can hear with resounding clarity and each moment he continues to taste the emotions within their voices feels like burning against his very SOUL.  It's not his to hear.  Their woes shouldn't be clear as day to him and yet they are and it burns.  It burns like an inferno in his chest, burns like a whirlwind of ache in his heart.

Painkillers don't take away regret.

It's such an easy thing for him to do.  He could do it so easily, he could make himself think without emotions blocking his logic.  He's done it before, why would it be any different now?  Just because it's a true soul and not a false one?  Just because it's a freed heart and not a caged one?  Why would it be different?  It shouldn't be different.  Disconnecting his SOUL from his mental state, it would essentially just block his emotions.  It's only a little different from being SOULless.  Instead of every negative emotion being amplified there's nothing at all.  Instead of anger and bloodlust there is only emptiness and ability to think past the cloud of wild emotion.  It would be blissful.

The sun doesn't revive a dead flower.

As soon as he goes to do so, he freezes.  Stares at the connection strung up before him, knows how to tie it with ease until he wants to deal with his emotions later but he doesn't move.  He barely even breathes.  Gaze caught onto his own soul, without him trying to seem as anything other than what he is, a myriad of colors with purple being most prominent.  PERSEVERANCE.  His trait.  The word that defines him.

...He can't do this.  He lets his soul sink back into his chest, connection untouched but a known regret already settled there.  He sits there for a bit, staring at his hands and knowing he'll hate himself for not doing it when he had the chance to.  But alas he stands back up and heads to crash with his Papá yet again, dragging the nearest pillow over his face so the groan is muffled.  He has to keep himself above such coping mechanisms right now.  He has Prometheus to talk to eventually, tests and examinations that would be tampered with if he did that.

Doing the right thing is so goddamn hard.  Why does the right thing have to be this difficult?  It shouldn't make him feel like he's going to start crying at any second.  It shouldn't make him feel like the world is coming down around him.  Can't the right thing be easy for once? ...no, he supposes that just isn't in the cards.

He'll keep this to himself.  Let the rhythm of his soulmate's SOUL steady his own.  Let the emotions of the moment in with a smile but do not invite them to stay.  An unwelcome guest of connection when he wants nothing more than to just disconnect from everything.

Time doesn't heal every wound.

Cue Fleur repeatedly hitting himself in the face with the pillow until he just holds it against his face and screams (intensely muffled, thank the Gods), digging claws into the fabric.  What do you mean he's displacing his emotions?

[cosmosfated]

Not sleeping well comes with a whole slew of problems.  Many of them are easy fixes... for normal people.  For him, it makes the frights more frightening.  Makes the horrors more horrifying.  Makes the chaos more chaotic.  It makes everything worse than it already was and it's PAINFUL.

But the worst part is:   he can never anticipate when he'll pass out from exhaustion.  Therefore, he can't brace for whatever nightmares await him during his "rest".

He speaks first.  "you need to stop."

"Ohh?~ Stop what, exactly?"  The amusement in its voice sends chills down his spine.

"stop what you're doing to me."  He's scared, and for once he's using that to his advantage.  "stop making me so furious at people who don't deserve my fury. stop making my life a living hell. please."

There's a quiet hum from the masquerader, voice growing a slight bit closer.  "I'm not doing anything, Reyt.~ All I did was give you that little nudge to tell you to do what you've always wanted to do. You always knew they didn't care. You always knew they'd leave. You're not mad at me, you're mad at yourself for thinking you could have a happy life here. A life... with a family that loves you, here, in the world built from your ashes, broken rose tinted glass, and super glue. In the world shattering, breaking, the world of lightning stricken sand and tidal waves of fire."

Fleur can’t help but avert his gaze further from where the voice is coming from.  He knows it’s telling the truth, the state of his timeline has been decaying as of late... but that’s of his own issue.  If it keeps going at this rate, it will no longer be just HIS problem.

“You said it yourself. You never get to be angry anymore. Everyone just thinks you’re having another madness episode. Everyone thinks that it just needs to be “cured” when you’re really just long since pissed off. You know... what would your pretty little lich thief of a daddy and his misfit reject daughter say? It’s not healthy to keep all of that bottled up. But they haven’t really any place to talk, do they?”  A snarl of a smile can be inferred from the way its talking to him.  It’s not them, it’ll never be them.  Even if their voice sounds like them, it’s not them.

“they are my family.”  ...right...?

“You don’t sound so sure of that, Reyt.~”

He shuts his eyes tight.  Don’t listen to it.  It’s just trying to get you to hate them.

“From what I’ve seen! You already hate them enough to get them to leave when they find out. Why hide how nasty you can be?”  A saccharine giggle makes his blood run cold.  “They won’t like you for who you really are. They only want something from you- be it your magical ability, an heir to a throne, or simply as a temporary replacement.”

Clawed appendages settle themselves against his shoulder, and he finds himself relaxing against his better judgement.  It even feels like them...

“But you know me, Reyt... We can be together. We can be true to ourselves. All you have to do is reclaim what’s yours. So get angry. Get furious. Take back what was stolen from you.”

He tries to shake off its their grip, finding it suddenly hard to breathe again.  “you’re wrong. you-- you have to be wrong. they wouldn’t do that to me. maman, she’s been through the same things- she wouldn’t hurt me like that- she wouldn’t.”

“That makes her the most likely candidate, and you know it. And that sweet little lich you call your Father? Doesn’t he hate mages? Don’t you ever wonder why he keeps you around?”

“because he loves me--”

“Because you’re his proof. Your survival is his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to the other mages. Nothing more. Once he’s done with you, he’ll forget completely. Don’t even get me started on that misfit reject. She already knows she has no place to truly belong. That alone is a fact that will haunt her forever, and YOU only made that worse.”

“i... i didn’t... they wouldn’t-”

“Oh but they would. Only I truly love you, Reyt, all of you. They don’t know you as well as I do. They never will. Therefore they could never love you. They. Don’t. Love. You. It’s just a ploy for their sick end game. You’re nothing but a pawn to them!~”

Fleur drops down to a crouch, putting his hands over his ears and repeatedly telling himself to wake up, wake up, this isn’t real, it- they aren’t real, they died, you need to wake up!

A laugh that is both hauntingly familiar and painful to his very SOUL reverberates through him as if he were a hallowed cathedral, and their voice were the church bells.

“You can’t wake up from this nightmare, Reyt! I told you! You WILL be mine!~”

He jolts awake with a start, unknowing of the fact that his eyes briefly flashed a full black.  It’s painful, too painful for him to handle, and he knows he needs to ask for help.  He can’t do this by himself right now, he needs help.  He tries to ask for help, he can’t breathe, please someone help him, but he can’t do anything.  He can’t say anything.

His jaw won’t move.  Bound by wires stronger than anything he’s felt before.

So he just stares at the wall opposite where he’s seated, struggling to breathe and unable to think once more.  Struggling to fight his own inferno of fury, the taste of arsenic and rotten caramel on his tongue.