ioduanlogs | TO THE WATERS AND THE WILD

Entry tags:

TO THE WATERS AND THE WILD

Characters: All
Date: February 7th-16th
Location: Throughout Aifaran
Situation: The Dreaming has unleashed Fairy Tales upon the city, and those sensitive to the Dreaming are playing them out.
Warnings/Rating: In Headers

Once upon a time, on a world where the planes collide, an extraordinary group of people were brought together to protect a place they didn’t call home. They waged war against a faceless enemy, and many people died, but using the power of the Third Plane, called the Dreaming, they finally defeated him. But not all was saved, for the magic that summoned them began to break down, and tears between the three planes brought new calamities, causing the Last Great Turtle to go between them in order to save his world, leaving behind only his offspring to protect the people who remained.

Over five hundred years passed, and the Planes did not calm, wreaking havoc on the world, tearing it apart and putting it back together. A coalition of peoples, all except one, came together with the now grown hatchlings to form a new nation, a nation of all shapes and sizes, all beliefs and deep magics. They learned to live with the movements of the Planes, showing great fortitude even as the heroes from other lands continued to appear and disappear, as is the nature of the Dreaming. For a time, things seemed to be at peace. But all peace is fragile, and the nation has unknown enemies far greater than those of old. Now the heroes must rise to unlock the newly woken mysteries unfolding before them.

So it began as all stories do, with heroes, a quest, and an enemy, how it ends is up to you…but until then, here is a little gift of tales and stories from your own worlds. Some roles have been reversed of course. A princess is now a prince, a king is now a queen, and since females can be thieves too, well, there’s some fun to be had. Then there’s the story about stories, a journey far away, shapeshifters, and a strange fascination with monsters and men. Maidens in towers, lost shoes, and mermaids. I have many stories, each with roles for you to play. So I hope you enjoy them. Perhaps they will offer some inspiration.

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Something pulls X home. He almost tries to fight it, because he's learned all too well what mysterious pulls and confusing decisions mean in this place, and especially in the last few days, but he knows the one time he ignores it will also be the one time someone is genuinely in danger. So in the end, he gives in.

And he's very, very glad he did.

He stops in the doorway, startled by more than one thing. The first is how Zephyr looks... different. Scaly. Animalistic, almost. There's something burned red onto his face and he's favouring his left arm while he packs. This might be because his right arm has gotten significantly bigger.

The second is that Zephyr is packing.

X stands his ground in the doorway, hands on the frame on either side, all gently and immovably placid. "No."

Leonne, give him patience--!

No. He has absolutely no right to be invoking the goddess's name here.

Zephyr stops for several moments, posture rigid, face turned away as though he can hide everything from X. "No, what?" he asks, as if he can't see that X is standing in the door. He gets the gist. He just thinks X is being stupid. Zephyr has to go, and he has to go right now. He shouldn't have even stopped to pack.

It's quite possible, X would admit, that he's being stupid. He just happens to believe that doesn't mean he's wrong.

"No, you can't leave without telling anyone where you're going."

He doesn't mention the physical changes, obvious though they are. That's a problem for when they avert the more immediate reckless decision. About the only person X has met who does better in isolation during personal crises is Valdis; and even then, he'd argue that the right kind of support is better than no support at all.

"Sure can, watch me." This is terse, without much of Zephyr's usual easygoing humor. The longer he stays and talks the harder this is going to get -- whatever he's packed is going to have to be enough. He closes the pack, buckles it shut. Good enough.

Turning to go has the terrible side-effect of showing off everything he's been trying to hide to X, but-- well. It's not like Zephyr could have salvaged this in the first place, unless he got out before X got back. Now it's just... cutting his losses. "You're in the door."

The scar beneath his left eye stands out as stark, peculiar contrast to the creeping red mark under the other.

X pulls back in surprise -- not all the way, certainly not enough to give Zephyr any room to leave, just enough to make it clear that the face Zephyr presents to him is not the face X expected. Not the face X expected at all. It's... worse than he thought.

Was Zephyr trying to run because that was the role mysterious compulsions forced him into? Or was the reason much more personal than that? X quickly runs through all the things he knows about Zephyr: kind-hearted, protective, reluctant to discuss his past, probably older than Valdis. None of it, on its own, points to an answer.

"You're changing," X replies quietly. "And you're scared. What kind of a friend would I be if I let you go and hide yourself away out of misery?"

"The safe kind," Zephyr says tersely. He saw that flinch; it's the correct reaction, it's the reaction he was hoping for. He gives the door a look -- no. Not enough room, and he's not going to chance laying hands on X.

Staying put is making his shoulders itch. Zephyr turns away, mostly to consider the window as an option for escape. Just let him go, X, it's for the best.

"Exactly," X says. Like this, somehow, on its own, is an explanation for his actions. Like someone who would consider safety over friendship simply doesn't exist.

He sees Zephyr turning towards the window, and though it's currently closed, it's not exactly locked. He keeps speaking, then, to try and distract Zephyr from it. "I'd be selfish," he says, stepping forward, "and I'd be a coward. Don't make me into a coward, Zephyr. Tell me what's scaring you."

He's getting closer. Zephyr had thought once that probably X didn't have much of a self-preservation instinct. Now he knows he was wrong: X has none at all. Zephyr moves away from him, which has the side-effect of cutting short his examination of the window.

"Thought it was pretty clear, actually," Zephyr says tightly, eying X warily. "You're not a coward. I'm the one making the decision here. Could you move?" If Zephyr isn't careful, he's going to wind up backed into a corner.

"You're not a coward either," X says, ignoring Zephyr's follow-up question completely, "and you're not panicking just because you've grown some scales. Tell me what's scaring you."

He doesn't raise his voice, never goes beyond gentle persistence. But he doesn't move, either. If anything, he's subtly planted his feet, prepared to try and resist a desperate dash for the door. He has no evidence, but X is pretty sure Zephyr isn't in his right mind, even disregarding the panic. And if Zephyr isn't doing this to himself, then the Dreaming is, and X would never forgive himself for backing down.

"Me," Zephyr says, low and bitter before he can stop himself -- X has this way about him, something coaxing and easy to talk to. Zephyr shouldn't even be slowing down.

The problem is, of course, that if he talks about this it's not something that can be unsaid, and it's always something that will be between them. If he runs for the hills, until this subsides -- if it subsides -- then at least there's a decent chance of X remembering him fondly.

Zephyr shifts his weight, takes a few steps to the left to make it look like he's going to lunge that way.

What kind of a friend would I be?

The safe kind.

Zephyr, X realises suddenly, must have done something terrible to be so scared of himself. Something truly monstrous. The transformation could be scaring him because it's how he sees himself -- or, it could be something he's seen happen to himself before.

It doesn't matter. X still isn't going anywhere.

When Zephyr shifts left, X does too, ready and waiting for the lunge. He doesn't realise the movement is a feint.

Something terrible -- over, and over, and over. And here, where they are outside the infinite spiral pattern but the Dreaming has an odd relationship to life -- Zephyr doesn't want to test what he might be capable of. That's not going to be a fun or bloodless test.

So he shifts left, waits for X to mirror him, then gathers his weight and bolts right, aiming around X and through the door. There's the benefit of having done this before, Zephyr thinks bitterly; he doesn't need to adjust for the changes, knows exactly the weight of the Niddhogg-arm.

He's sorry. He really is. But he's not about to spend his breath on it, not when it's more important to get away.

It works, initially. X is completely taken in by the feint and misses when Zephyr bolts through the doorway on his other side, their shoulders barely brushing, X off-balance and Zephyr perfectly situated to make a run for it.

But for as much as Zephyr is desperate to get away, X is desperate not to let him. He runs fast, he's read several people with quick reflexes, and he has the advantage of deceptive speed. The time he loses recovering from his stumble, he makes up chasing after Zephyr in the corridor, and as he closes in --

-- he's probably going to regret this --

--X lunges, crashing into Zephyr from behind and tackling him to the ground. He has no plan, no real idea of what he's going to do once they're both on the ground, but sometimes that's what helps desperate ploys work -- not thinking about the consequences.

Footsteps behind him -- that's fine, Zephyr's probably faster, though he'll admit he's never tested his speed against X's in an open race. If he can get to the stairs he can cheat down them five or six at a time--

--he doesn't make it that far. Weight slams into him and Zephyr hits the ground, not swearing only because he's just bitten his tongue. He takes a moment to get his breath back, tasting copper, then squirms. "Get off me." He doesn't really intend the rising panic in his voice, it just kind of happens.

The panic in Zephyr's voice tugs painfully at X's heart, but he stays on top, ensuring that Zephyr has to contend with his full weight.

"Zephyr," he says, quieter than before and much quieter than Zephyr himself was, because X is now right next to Zephyr's ear and it's impossible not to hear him. "Trust me, please. I want to help you. You're scared of hurting people -- has that happened before?"

Zephyr tries to get up. He can't, not really, not without applying more force than is safe. He could probably hit X from here, but he--

He can't. He can't do that.

Has that happened before.

Laughter comes before anything else, something bitter and self-deprecating and wildly out of control. Zephyr thumps his head against the floor as though to drive dragon and laughter alike out of him. "Well," he says, "I sure didn't help them."

X pauses, and says: "Then you're probably right, that you can't stay here. But you're not going anywhere on your own. I'm coming with you."

A good idea? No, probably not. X can practically hear Luci's voice in the back of his head telling him that he's being reckless with his own safety again, that he's not thinking things through again. But X can't leave a friend to be terrified on their own. He can't.

"That's a terrible idea." Zephyr thumps his head off the ground. Notably, he doesn't otherwise move. "I'm just as likely to kill you, too." Something rational murmurs under this, something at the back of his mind reminding him that there is no Niddhogg here, no great consumer of souls.

--surely it's only a matter of time.

"How do you think you're going to stop me from taking off once you let me up?"

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TO THE WATERS AND THE WILD

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