ioduanlogs | [EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

Entry tags:

[EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

Characters: All
Date: September 15-30
Location: Aifaran and surrounding areas
Situation: The barrier is displaying increasingly strange behavior.
Warnings/Rating: In individual threads - please remember to warn!

The barrier that surrounds the archipelago is designed to keep the chaos of planes at bay, to safeguard the last great bastion of life in Konryu. The magic that created and sustains the barrier is immense - but not infallible. And a question that few have dared to ask in anything but a hushed whisper now descends upon the city: what if something stronger crawls out of the abyssal dark?

SHIMMER AND SHAKE

All month, the barrier has been markedly more visible than usual with swirls of rainbow color shifting across its surface, giving it the appearance of a giant soap bubble. This happens from time to time, and initially is of no great concern. Researchers prudently keep a close eye on it, recording the barrier's behavior in detail, and everyone carries on.

The first ripple appears at sunset on the 15th, warping the fading colors of the sky and spreading up and across the horizon until it vanishes. There is no outright panic in response - Aifaran is accustomed to strange events - but tension and uncertainty settle in quickly.

The Aisling Tower releases a statement in cooperation with the Ioduan Academy assuring the city that there is no indication that the barrier has weakened appreciably, nor any immediate danger. The best minds the archipelago have to offer are studying this event and advise citizens to avoid speculating about the cause until they know more. Apprehension diminishes some, helped in part by the coordinated efforts of the Tower, the Academy and the Sentry providing a unified front of calm and reassurance. Over the next few days, more ripples interrupt the cloudless skies, and no one can quite tell if the phenomenon is a physical disturbance or if the play of light and shadow merely makes it seem that way. The epicenter of each wave moves erratically, but it doesn't take the keenest of observers to notice they are marching slowly towards Aifaran.

A NIGHTMARE LOOMS

At midday on the 19th, a nightmarish figure of legend becomes visible on the barrier and sends panic through the city. Although never confirmed to be real, nearly everyone recognizes the writhing mass of darkness atop too many spindly legs: the Night Fisher. It towers high enough to be seen for miles outside the city. For half a minute, Aifaran and the surrounding lands are cast in eerie, shifting shadow as the abomination spreads tendrils questing over the barrier. Something beyond the edge of hearing sends a cold shiver down one's spine despite the warm afternoon.

And just as quickly as it arrived, the image disappears and sunlight returns to streets that are hastily emptied. City hall and the Aisling Tower are hounded for answers, while temples are packed by terrified followers seeking guidance and comfort. Hours go by and the skies remain clear. Cautiously, fearfully, people return to their homes.

The following day, researchers report that a swath of coral reef that begins off Shuyul Bay (which Aifaran overlooks) and extends beyond the barrier suddenly and mysteriously died off. Calls for skilled volunteers to help investigate are issued.

WAKING DREAMS

Another strange phenomenon that comes after the Night Fisher's first appearance is what the experts at the Aisling Tower are calling the Dreaming Sickness. Something in the Dreamfolk, and the native inhabitants of Aifaran who are sensitive to the Dreaming will find that they initially have trouble distinguishing dreams from reality. They may feel constantly fatigued and disoriented - with chronic migraines being a staple of the symptoms. As things progress, they will find they can lucid dream, and their dreams may even manifest in reality.

For example, if they were having a nightmare about a giant boot with teeth chasing them? It may just appear down the hall. Having a dream about soaring through the air? Anyone around them may also sprout wings. Fortunately for others, these visions don't manifest much further than a radius of about 30 feet, only last a few minutes, and the harm they can do is negligible at best. Experts at the Tower are unable to find an immediate solution to this problem, though they remind the public that these things tend to resolve themselves after a little while.

---

OOC Notes: The Dreaming Sickness is an opt-in event if you do not wish your character to be affected. This log covers the latter half of September and you may post starters dated anywhere in that time period. Have fun!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

The ripples had grown worse, culminating in the vision on the barrier. The following headaches, dizziness and fatigue drove Valdis to the beach, a place she could close her eyes and listen to the sea. The water soothed the pain, and she at least hadn't experienced anything like some of the other Dreamfolk. The scent of blood pulled her from her empty meditation. Thick, fresh and sharp. Her eyes opened, fear shooting through her mind at the sight of the bloody heart held in the hand of a man all too familiar.

"Fascinating," he said, examining it closely, "Does any connection exist between the organ and the soul?"

He squeezed the heart, blood dripping down his arm and onto the sand, and Valdis could have sworn she felt the heart in her chest clench painfully. His eyes filled with an honest and dark curiosity that sent shivers down her spine, and she felt frozen under the gaze. Disappointment flashed across his face as the heart turned to dust in his hand.

"Pity," he said, "I'm going to need to take another one now."

The Void screamed at her to move, and move she did, lurching to her feet and racing toward the treeline, but the ground erupted into flames, so hot she felt she might burn despite her usual immunity. She spun, searching for another route only to have Amos appear in front of her. Strength left her legs and she collapsed, clawing at the chains around her wrists, drawing blood with her nails and shrieking with the Void.

Help us, the sharped hissing plea would ring in the head of the closest person.

Dark magic lashed out at the archdemon, breaking the chains and swirling around her like a barrier built from death. She screamed with him as the magic washed over the ground and over him.

But the magic didn't stop, killing the flames and everything in its path. She had to rein it in. She pulled at the sensation, trying to drag it back, to squash it entirely. The city suddenly seemed closer than it was before, people were going to die if she didn't do something. Panicked, Valdis pulled a dagger from her belt. It had worked once before, and the fastest route was between the fourth and fifth rib.

The gentle shh-shh of the waves on the shore at night was calming for Miles, and he needed that calm lately. After the problems with the barrier and that - thing - he'd needed to calm his blood, and the sound of the ocean drowned out the static in his brain. The static was getting harder and harder to ignore, the Walrider singing in his ears with his anxiety. There was probably some pharmacy he could go to around here for some anti-anxiety medication, but what would even happen? Would the Walrider reject the drugs as a toxin?

The crash of the waves on the shore was white noise to combat the white noise that was already in his blood and ears and brain, and it seemed to be working.

Then: Help us.

His heart rate spiked. The Walrider didn't talk, but if it did he was pretty sure that's what it would sound like, freezing rain and an angry cobra. He was about to try and figure out where it came from when there was a woman's scream, and before he knew what he was doing he took off, stumbling in the sand, losing his footing and practically falling down as some of the smaller dunes shifted beneath him as he ran.

As he got closer, he could see someone - Valdis? - and someone else taunting her, his arm covered in blood. But the man disappeared, and Valdis pulled something from her belt. The light glinting off of it showed Miles that it was a knife, and unless he was mistaken, she was planning on turning it on herself.

His heart pounded in his ears as he sprinted at her, pushing the sound of the static down, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling it and the knife away from her side. "Valdis! What the fuck?! Stop!"

The sand shifted, but she saw nothing apart from the swirling and spreading sensation of death. Suddenly her arm was wrenched away from her, she snarled, the sound completely inhuman and foreign to a human throat. She tried to jerk away from the invisible force, but Miles' voice came sharp out of nowhere and with it, the darkness and death vanished as if it had never existed. There was no burned landscape, no blood where Amos had stood. No Amos. But the scent of blood still stung her nostrils, her arms were covered in long gashes that failed to heal. They hurt, but she didn't release her restricting hold on the magic that would have healed them, terrified that it might spring forth and consume everything.

"Miles?"

The tension left her muscles, which were now free to tremble. Valdis let the knife fall out of her hand, still confused and still feeling the remainder of the adrenaline that had kicked in. Her gaze moved up to Miles' face.

""The magic, I couldn't control it" Her voice wavered, "It was going haywire."

Edited 2018-09-18 21:11 (UTC)

A.
Though he tried to work through the odd migraines that had started bothering him, the owner of the antique store had eventually noticed, and insisted that Trahearne take some sick leave. By that point, he was in no state to argue.

The sleeping supplement he took in his tea every night was no longer working, and he couldn't be sure if the migraines had anything to do with it. He tried to downplay his condition, not wanting to worry his roommates, but he was so tired. Bone tired, in a way he hadn't been since he first arrived in Aifaran and had only been able to get snatches of sleep between the nightmares that plagued him. The nightmares that had never stopped, only been smothered by artificial means.

He wound up at an outdoor table near the Dreaming Bridge, a book in front of him as part of an effort to take in some fresh air and do something relaxing. Instead, Trahearne found that he couldn't concentrate. The words were swimming in front of him, and he only closed his eyes for what seemed like a moment - but when he opened them again, he wasn't alone.

A horde of Risen surrounded him, decaying zombies that brought with them the stench of rot combined with seawater. Though they represented a variety of races, many of them sported colonies of dead coral, muted splashes of color against grey skin and the red-brown of shriveling internal organs. Trahearne shouted wordlessly in alarm, scrambling up on the table as the Risen scrambled closer, reaching out for him.

"Destroy," one grated out, other Risen adding in gurgles and groaned words of their own, "No escape!" "Die, die!"

B.
As his sickness progresses, Trahearne became more and more disoriented. He's no longer easy to find, having left the Dreaming Bridge in favor of wandering the city's streets. Like when the Dreaming was dredging up the Dreamfolk's memories, Trahearne knows in his moments of clarity that he's a danger to others. But those moments are further and further between. Now he's so sleep-deprived and Dreaming-Sick that half the time he's asleep on his feet, and that's always when the worst of it happens.

Like now. Trahearne doesn't know where he is. When he snaps out of his haze, he's in the middle of a road between low, squat buildings - warehouses, he thinks. The salt on the breeze might be his imagination, so he's not sure he can trust it. Something still seems wrong. Even in the midday sun, the shadows are too dark, stretching towards him like... like vines!

They are vines, dull green and studded with thorns half as long as his arm. Trahearne turns and starts to run for it, but he's unsteady on his feet and doesn't make it very far before he stumbles and falls, the vines slamming into the ground around him. He starts to push himself up on one arm, but stops abruptly when he sees the looming form ahead. It's a Mordrem - plant-based and humanoid in shape, but hulking and monstrous as opposed to the slim, more human-resembling sylvari. This one has grown bark so thick it could easily serve as armor plating, orange eyes glowing with fury.

"Did you think you could escape us? In life or death, you WILL serve the jungle dragon!"

C. Wildcard

Edited 2018-09-18 06:12 (UTC)

[A: A Nightmare Looms]

[The things Padparadscha is used to seeing loom in the sky are usually a little brighter, but still, the shadowy form on the barrier initially looks enough like a very strange sunspot to have their hand resting on the hilt of their sword.

Once they identify it as something else, though, their grip softens a little. The ripple of fear around them and discomfort within them says there's something of significance to this apparition, but once light returns and people begin to flee for safety, there's nobody left to ask.

Padparadscha remains watching the barrier for a while after, still as the stone they're made of, and expression completely unreadable.]

An unforeseen outcome, then... [Rutile really should have reconsidered.]

--

[B: Waking Dreams I]

[While Padparadscha can technically dream, usually it's limited to oddities of their inclusions. Manufacturing imaginative scenarios like humans do isn't how it typically happens for them, so their dreams don't hold much fear for them like they might for others.

Unpleasantness, though - there's plenty enough of that to go around. On occasion, in the later stages of the Dreaming Sickness, they may find themselves surrounded by strange, almost luminescent humanoids, bowing and reaching for them but seemingly presenting no actual threat - with such a short radius, they can't be imagined descending from the sky, after all. Not to mention Padparadscha now has a somewhat different impression of them than many of their companions.

Their smile as they walk between the strange figures is deceptively light, and they try not to spare too much attention.] This "illness" is getting quite strange, isn't it...?

--

[C: Waking Dreams II]

[The other effect they encounter from the visions is less troubling, if somewhat morbid in a way. The amount of times they've woken up to differently coloured chunks of gem filling up the holes in their chest is almost uncountable by this point, and so, on occasion, the only "vision" impressing itself on them is that of the gem segments filling their torso changing colour. Any kind of colour a corundum gem comes in might appear - deeper red, blue, green, purple...

It's a funny thing to see, honestly, though Padparadscha largely seems to be ignoring it.]

--

[D: Wildcard]

[[Feel free to hit me up at

reviseleviathan to plot something else!]]

[ Padparadscha isn't the only one remembering something else when the shadow flashes across the sky. Several yards down the street Rutile stands frozen, their gaze captivated by the eldritch vision. They suddenly feel much heavier, liable to sink into the ground, as they realize whose fault this is.

For everyone else, the moment ends as quickly as it begins. People flee the streets in chaos around Rutile, who stands at the center without seeing them go. It's not until the streets are otherwise empty and the sky has been clear for several seconds that they blink, regaining their bearings.

It's just Padparadscha at the end of the street. Even from this distance, Rutile has the sinking feeling they know what they're thinking.

But, there is no one else to approach. Their voice echoes down the empty streets along with their footsteps: ]

So. You saw that, too?

The Dreaming Sickness has not spared the Fool either, but in his moments of lucidity it is common to find him seeking out his friends to ensure that they are bearing up well under this latest development. Yet even when he is in his right mind, there is a dreamy, far off quality to his gaze that suggests he is seeing something far beyond the immediate world around him.

Nevertheless, he is brought firmly back down to earth when, rounding a corner, he is nearly bowled over by a crowd of agitated locals hurrying away from an unsettling scene: Trahearne, clearly in the grips of the Dreaming Sickness, held down by barely perceptible vines and besieged by a truly frightening looking monster. That it is all of his own imagining doesn't make the experience less traumatizing for his friend.

"Trahearne!" The Fool pushes past a group of loitering gawkers to get closer, dismay on his face. "Trahearne, this isn't real--you must come back to yourself!"

(At least, he hopes it isn't real.)

Conan winces at the light as he makes his way down the street. He was beginning to regret trying to get something done today. Between the nightmares last night, and the migraine that was rapidly getting worse, this was looking like the start of a bad day.

[When Rutile speaks, Padparadscha turns their head, a deceptively light smile on their face, before they turn fully towards them. Rutile may be slightly rash on occasion with their science, but they've never been a fool, so Padparadscha assumes they're as aware as each other of the likely source of this disturbance.]

Of course. I'd find it hard to believe everyone else didn't see it as well. [Their mouth tilts up in some amusement as they look over the now-empty street, but it doesn't last long. Whatever that vision was, it's severe enough to have stricken fear into the hearts of the locals.]

I don't suppose you know what it is that was stirred up? [They avoid saying "that you stirred up", but the implication is likely obvious enough regardless.]

Devin heard the shouts from a few streets away and ran towards the source of the commotion - which turned out to be decaying creatures the likes of which he'd never seen surrounding Trahearne of all people. They weren't quite solid to his sight, which hopefully meant they couldn't cause physical harm. The vampire had thus far been spared the monsters of his past springing out of his dreams, but he knew it was only a matter of time. The Dreaming hadn't been kind.

The fact that it was Trahearne didn't register to him as a problem. They had had their issues, but Devin was not so cruel as to leave someone trapped by their own nightmares. Unfortunately, he also had no idea how to stop them, or how to pull Trahearne out of this.

...except possibly give him a real target to focus on. Devin wasn't about to try an emotional appeal.

"Ah, I see why you dislike me so much," he remarked, loud enough to be heard over the apparitions as he edged casually closer. "But really, Trahearne, these things have no style." He held his arms out to the side and smiled coldly. "Wouldn't you rather tussle with someone more charming?"

Trahearne isn't paying any attention to the alarmed pedestrians around him. He's shaking like a leaf, struggling to push himself up on his arms, the combination of his terror and many sleepless nights having sapped his strength considerably. His eyes are glued to the Mordrem approaching him, but... hearing his name called does start to get through to him, at least a little.

"Stay back!" Trahearne shouts out, his voice nearly cracking. "It's too dangerous! Don't come near me!"

The Mordrem isn't reacting to the onlookers or the shouting at all. In fact, when it reaches down to grab at the fronds atop Trahearne's head, its fingers pass through entirely, though Trahearne still jerks further upright as though he can feel it. "Still you struggle against the inevitable," the Mordrem told him, in a voice with an undertone like seeds scraping together. "You have always belonged to Mordremoth!

The Risen wasted little time in crowding around even closer, some of the smaller ones starting to climb up the edges, the others reaching for Trahearne's ankles. It might've looked as though the Risen were about to succeed in pulling him down among the mob, but then Devin issues his challenge, and that immediately grabs the sylvari's attention. Trahearne looks towards him, his gaze seeming to sharpen... and just like that, the Risen fade away into nothing.

"You", Trahearne says in an almost accusatory tone, pointing at him. "You have all the charm of a wilted carrion flower. Don't test me." This was probably a bad time for a fight. Trahearne felt more than a little disoriented, sure he'd just seen Risen here but with no idea where they'd gone, and that was on top of his lack of sleep. Much like when he'd first taken a swing at Devin, in fact.

Her recovery from the nightmare had been slow, yet she refused to lock herself away and hide. Questioning everything she saw seemed like a better idea than giving in to fear. Valdis still felt herself drawn to the water, so it was there that she sat in the sand once again, this time in daylight, when the strange colors of the barrier weren't as bright or noticeable. The sound of hooves plodding through hardened, wet sand drew her attention from the waves.

A black unicorn walked toward her from downwind, the long mane and tail in swept by the breeze. It tossed its head, snorting at the sight of her, and if it had carried a scent, she might have been convinced it was real. It nickered lightly, as if please to see her, further indicating the presence of a dream. Even if they existed on her world, no unicorn would have approached her. But the creature continued toward her, swishing the long black tail and Valdis rose to meet it. She reached out her hand as it arched its neck out, pressing its velvet nose into her palm.

The jolt that raced through her body reminded her of when she first grasped the hilt of her sword. Nothing more than an illusion, yet it seemed so real. The unicorn turned its head, an intelligent green eye keeping her in view as it looked past her. It snorted, lifting a leg to strike at the ground, tossing the fine head, unhappy with whatever approached.

Edited 2018-09-20 21:24 (UTC)

When she snarled, something in him - the long-ingrained hunter-gatherer's predatory instinct that the Walrider amplified to a ridiculous degree - wanted to snarl back and prove that he was the more dangerous one here. An alien emotion, and one he didn't particularly like, so he shoved it down.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, trying to sound calm, but he knew that he couldn't hide his pounding heartbeat from her, at least. "What magic? I mean, I'm not the local expert, so you're gonna have to explain like I'm five. And who was that guy? I thought I saw someone..."

The barrier rippled in the distance, strange colors twisting in the sky, creating patterns that shifted and moved as if they were alive, but Valdis kept her eyes on Miles, afraid that whatever nightmare she had experienced would return. His heart raced as quickly as hers did, a remnant of their own adrenaline which she could almost scent on the air.

"Death magic," she whispered, worried that the mere mention of it might make it come back or give the darkness strength. Valdis felt half present, as if part of her still slept or stayed within a dream state, a state in which the nightmare held power. "He wants to control it. To control me. I can't let him. I can't go back."

Her voice went higher and higher, her fear outweighing her logic.

"Don't let me go back."

Miles didn't want to lie to her, because he wasn't sure how she'd go back, or be taken back, or whatever the flipping hell was going on, but she needed his help, and he knew that he was more than capable of fighting.

He would have said 'fighting anything', but there were more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than were dreamt of in his philosophy. At least - they were before he came here.

But he knew death, and people wanting to control it, and control someone who could harness it for their own twisted purposes, and his skin prickled and the static raged in his head. She had her own personal Wernicke.

"I won't," he said firmly. He had barely a clue what she had experienced, but he knew better than to tell her that it was all in her head. That didn't mean it didn't hurt or it wasn't scarring. He'd had months' worth of dreams to drive that lesson home.

That worked even better than Devin anticipated. The insults Trahearne hurls at him are received with crafted amusement; he doesn't actually want to get into a fight here and this is not actually funny.

"Oh, please. If I wanted to give you another chance at landing a blow, I'd have sent you an embossed invitation for a venue outside the city," Devin scoffed. He gestured pointedly to the table. "And preferably when you don't appear moments from falling off your ineffective choice of higher ground. I could upend you in an instant, and that would be juvenile."

Valdis didn't even consider how her facade had broken so completely, or if she still dreamed. Feeling half here and half somewhere else, she broke eye contact, shaking her head, trying to re-associate and find some sort of center. His reassurance should have been empty, she knew that none of them had any control over who stayed and who left, but it did help the world stop twisting so much. She took a shaky, but deep breath, blinking away tears.

"Thank you."

She glanced at the knife laying harmlessly in the sand. It wouldn't have done much lasting damage, wouldn't have affected anything in the long run, but it may have caused a problem for whoever stumbled upon the scene later. Valdis almost laughed at the morbidity of that thought, but it seemed highly inappropriate considering what had happened.

"I feel crazy," she sounded calmer now. Her arms stung as she still strangled her own magic to prevent it from rising.

Miles laughed a little, because it was all so absurd. "You're not the only one." Then the smell of blood properly hit him, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The static in his head spiked.

He shook his head and glanced down at her arms. "Jeez, Valdis, what, did you get in a fight with a gyroshei or something? You're all scratched up." His tone was light, but he knew that wasn't the case. Those were nail marks. "You'd think getting all bloody would enhance death magic, right?"

"I was trying to get the chains off," she replied quietly, though now she knew there had never been chains. And now she did laugh. The sound held no joy, but it was better than crying. Nothing had been real, the archdemon, the fire, the magic going haywire...all in her head.

She started to wipe the blood off, hissing in pain as her hands irritated the gashes. "Blood has nothing to do with my kind of death magic," she laughed harshly, "We kill without a trace."

Miles opted not to say that he killed by exploding people from the inside out at the cellular level. Not really the time. "Chains, huh? I don't blame you." He felt a phantom of Trager's restraints on his wrists, and mentally shook it off. He'd have clawed himself bloodier than he'd already been to get free, if the second one hadn't popped.

"No, don't wipe it, you're just gonna get it everywhere...you're gonna wreak havoc on my wardrobe, y'know that?" he said, and shucked his shirt off. "Here. Hold still, I'll push on it to stem the bleeding for now. You moving is just gonna make it bleed more. Pinky promise this isn't an excuse to show off my abs." He grinned.

He may not blame her for clawing herself to get away from chains, but she certainly blamed herself for getting so caught up in panic that she couldn't tell truth from the lie. She'd shown too much weakness in that moment, she was still showing weakness. Valdis knew one couldn't be strong all the time, but she hated feeling afraid and she didn't even know why the fear lingered. Amos wasn't here.

The archdemon didn't play games the same way Bobby did. He wouldn't use others to get what he wanted, so friends were the one advantage she had. They were a strength, not a weakness. Valdis took a breath. It was fear of what faced her upon her return to her world, a world where she had no friends, that plagued her. She forced a smile at his joke

"They are nice abs." She replied, eyeing the scar on his chest. All these people had physical marks to show their suffering. Scars that somehow made it more legitimate, or at least more easily visible and worthy of sympathy. "That scar...where did it come from?"

"Thank you," he said, before the smile on his face went brittle. Hiding under a hospital bed, trying to calm his ragged breathing, and then--

'Somebody has to win and somebody has to lose here, I don't make the rules!'

Trager's freaky Variant strength, dragging him out by his arm, then stabbing that goddamned pair of shears through him - not quite his shoulder, not quite a debilitating wound - before he can wrest himself away with a cry and run towards the elevator.

"The same guy who made it so I can only count to eight and a half on my fingers," Miles said, a little too smoothly. "But, you know. 'You should see the other guy', and all that."

How To Make Trager Juice. Step 1: Squeeze.

"Let's take a look," he said, lifting his balled-up shirt off of the scratches. "There. They look better now." He took her arm to look a little closer, and then--

--there was a brief glow from his hands, and the wounds sealed up.

He almost dropped her arm in shock; he did drop the shirt. "Hey, uh, you did that, right? You did the healy thing?"

Her attempt at a joke seemed to have fallen flat, because his face fell at her question, destroying the mood she had been hoping to preserve. Miles might have been able to answer smoothly, but the jolt in his emotional state told her she'd stepped on something delicate. Valdis didn't press, not that he gave her the chance because he redirected the topic of conversation to her injuries.

Valdis hissed softly when foreign magic touched on her senses, closing the slashes as easily as her own magic might have. Miles seemed shocked, dropping his shirt and recoiling. It was enough to push what remained of her fear into the background. She released her death grip on her magic, letting it flow back around the slashes on her other arm. There was no light to accompany the healing, no strange magic.

"No," she replied, sounding confused, "I think that was you."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

[EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

QUESTIONS

Miles | Waking Dreams | Night at the Shore | CW: Violence, Death Magic (?), Blood

no subject

no subject

tw zombies/body horror

no subject

A!

B

no subject

no subject

A; hehehe

no subject

no subject

Open | After the first dream | CW: None Yet

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject