Link Up! Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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linkingup2024-09-14 11:29 pm
linkupmods) wrote in linkingup2024-09-14 11:29 pm
WEEKS 7 & 8
WEEKS 7 & 8
THE SEASONS TURN...
- Time really passes, doesn't it? Before you know it, you're halfway through the time that the goddess Braphine has promised that you'll be here, your home away from home. You are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, maybe, even through all the challenges and eventful (!) twist and turns that have followed you through your stay here. Surely there can't be anything else lurking in the wings, right?
Through the efforts of all of Braphine's chosen, the city definitely is starting to feel a little bit cheerier, in contrast to the temperatures that are starting to cool as the seasons in Sunset City turn and the leaves change their colour. The Shopping District and the Entertainment District look and feel decidedly more warm, and a quick trip into the Nekyia also show that the haze has cleared from both districts, with the Shadows lurking much fewer in number.
Further exploration will find that the haze has thinned to explorable levels in the Nekyia Fashion District - there are Shadows to be cleared, after all. Maybe if you are lucky, they might drop you a little something in reward for your efforts.
DO YOUR PART FOR CHARITY!
- On Saturday, there's a notice pinned in the lobby of the dormitory:
CHARITY EVENT FOR THE TEMPLE OF BRAPHINE
9/21
FLEA MARKET AM
FORMAL MASQUERADE BALL PM
Come and support the temple when we need it most!
Yes, you read that right: There will be a Charity Event for the Temple of Braphine, hosted by no one other than her devoted followers. They sent this over to the dorms to request the Chosens' assistance, it seems, and as the flyer says, this is an all-day event to take place on September 21st.
In the morning, there will be a Flea Market! There's a note from the hosts that they'd like the Chosens to either find a vendor to assist, provide entertainment, or participate as vendors in the Flea Market. At night, a ball will be held with live music, dinner, refreshments, and an open dance floor for all. They are not asking for your assistance with the ball, however; rather, you are automatically invited as esteemed guests and are encouraged to dress your finest for the occasion!
Given that this isn't for another week, however, it is highly encouraged that you shop around to find an outfit you'll look snazzy in for the ball. You can also start preparing merchandise to sell; or maybe, perhaps, you'd like to save that street performance for the Flea Market? Either way, you've got a long week ahead of you…
…but it won't be all rainbows and sunshine.
KEEP DREAMING.
Late into the night on Saturday, you will dream. What that dream consists of varies with each individual, but you will have one, even if you've never dreamed before. This dream could be a core memory, or perhaps about something you've always wanted, your worst fear...the list goes on.The next day, anyone who enters the Nekyia will find that, aside from the strange "Palaces" that have popped up, things aren't right yet again…but for an entirely different reason. No matter where you are, you enter the Nekyia to a hallway full of dressing rooms. It's a fairly long hallway, because venturing down it will eventually lead you to a door that has your name on it.
Why don't you journey there and find out what awaits?
–
After seeing "Sayaka" and finding your door, you'll find something even more strange.
That dream you had last night? Well, it's here. Your dream may manifest as a small, contained landscape from your dream; a creature that you may have dreamt of might be scurrying around; another version of you, different from a Shadow; or you could be unlucky and have one of your memories on full display for everyone to see.
This phenomenon will last for the next two weeks, and dreamscapes will shift with the different dreams characters have. It won't be a one and done ordeal, unfortunately…but there is, perhaps, a way you can stop it.
(OOC: Sayaka's top level is NOT time sensitive, nor is it a mod-run event. This can be treated like a regular top level to be tagged at your own pace!
Please see the "A Dream Unraveled" commission for some details on what's causing the dreamscapes to appear! Welcome to your dreamwalking/memory share event!)
WEATHER FORECAST
Temperature: hot and humid, but gradually getting cooler! Surprise showers may occur during these two weeks when you least expect it, so stay sharp and don't get drenched!
Characters who journery into the Nekyia when it is raining may find HP-restoring items dropped during combat with Shadows.
Characters who journery into the Nekyia when it is raining may find HP-restoring items dropped during combat with Shadows.
COMMISSIONS
REAL WORLD COMMISSIONS
NEKYIA COMMISSIONS
OOC
READ ME!!!!
- Welcome to your log for Weeks 7 and 8! Feel free to use this log for any developments that happen during the next two weeks. There will be no log posted next week, but a top-level for the charity event will be posted instead on next Saturday!
For plotting, please feel free to head over to this post on the OOC comm to post your plotting top levels.
For Nekyia commissions, you can assume that the Shadows will respawn until they've been beaten enough times to go back to normal.
Don't forget that the deadline for applications and character swaps is on September 28!
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To Soujuurou, the transition may seem seamless, from looking at just the oddly realistic painting to actually looking at the silhouette of an actual person peeking from behind a red curtain. The figure comes into the tent, and thus into focus, and it's a feminine person in red, with a red dress, long, wild red hair, a bone white mask, and two long, spiraling horns keeping through the wild hair. They move further into the tent with quiet steps and nary an audible flutter of their dress, and Soujuurou can now see what's actually behind him-- a gaggle of children, freshly bathed and dressed.
Most of them are blurry, as if a painter hasn't yet managed to bring life to them. Two, however, are in sharp focus-- a cat with a tiny tuft of a tail and ears too large for his head, and a... little snake, pale hair, wide eyes, a scrawny black tail lacking in luster. A shadow of a man he is now.
The adult beckons for the children to come to them, and while initially hesitant, they do come, and the adult holds out their hand. One by one, a stiletto is deposited into small, waiting hands, and the children are told that it's time for them to learn how to be part of the Troupe. They're all taken out of the tent to begin their first swings with their new weapons, but while most struggle, the little cat and the little snake manage some semblance of competence by the end of the day. Literally, by the end of the day, the sun moving across the sky rapidly until night falls.
As the children stop training for the night, many of them still seem unsure about their new lives, acting as if they're speaking to one another with body language and gestures, but the little cat looks like he doesn't care, and the little snake is... looking at his dagger in wonder. Before he quickly squirrels it away into his clothing.
Day in and day out, this is their lives for the next week or so, until a new routine is added. A butler, an older man with lines on his face and feathers in his hair, takes the little snake aside to speak to him on occasion.
Oddly.]
Remember that you are modest and gentle, boy of the abyss. That is what the script has in store for you, and no one strays from the script. Modest and gentle.
[And the boy merely nods along, eyes wide.
Now the "A-" name on the plaque may make sense.]
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as he watches the scenes before him, he quietly takes note of a sense of something welling within him.
nostalgia, in a sense, for the times in the mountain. the grueling training that he and other children were put through, where the meaning of day and night would be lost in an exhausting blur of fighting for your life, training to hone your skills, and searching for the scarce luxury of food.
'no one strays from the abyss'
'this is just how things have always been around here, boy. there's no reason to keep doing it, but there's also no reason to stop.
unable to bring himself to speak up or turn away from the sight, he quietly continues to watch ahead. ]
cw: child death
The training becomes more grueling, difficult. The children get more than just dagger drills, but extremely difficult physical training, running, climbing, sparring, jumping, even swimming if the Troupe stops at a river or lake. And then at night they're bundled into carts and wagons and trucks to get on the road. And sometimes, they don't even sleep because they have to learn how to drive the vehicles themselves. All this in between conditioning of who they actually are, their names, their roles according to the script.
And then, during a particularly long stop, they learn the arts. The little cat and the little snake take to the arts easily, dancing, singing, acting, but the training becomes far more difficult than the combat training. Sometimes they have to stand still, holding an awkward pose that tests their balance and flexibility. Sometimes they have to repeat singing a song over and over until their developing voices are strained, breaking, even gone.
No breaks, no respite.
Sometimes, a massive person prowls in the distance, and only comes by when the children are done pushing their bodies to the limit for the day. A massive shadowy figure, more like a silhouette rather than a detailed person. He always, always puts his hands on the shoulders of the little cat, and declares the boy, Solitaire, his favourite, the Blood Diamond of the Crimson Troupe.
Sometimes, Solitaire isn't around, leaving the boy of the abyss as the only child in focus. Sometimes the others call him "Shalem", sometimes they call him "Abyss". But the adults quite like calling him "Abyss".
Eventually, as the children grow, their numbers slowly begin to dwindle. Not noticeably so at first, especially when the boy occasionally called Abyss has wholly preoccupied himself with his training, dancing with a flair that matches that of the adults of the Troupe, finding a newfound appreciation for the strength in his tail and wrapping it around objects, and brandishing his new collection of daggers with sheer relish on his face, most especially when he's digging them into a solid object to practice. Performance and violence in equal measure.
But one day after training, once the sun is slowly going down, Abyss looks up and notes that some of the adults are taking one of his peers away, one of the other children who'd been struggling recently, and even stumbled over their own feet during a particularly grueling drill earlier. He follows them, careful not to make a sound thanks to his training, and sees something that makes him run all the way back to the large room he and the other children sleep in.
He saw the adults execute that one shadowy child and bury the body.]
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but it's when he sees the memory of that child being executed, it feels as if the wind is knocked from him. the cold cruelty of killing one that you've raised as your own, that you've invested so much time and effort, is just too cruel and inhuman for soujuurou to keep quiet.
though aware that this is nothing more than a set of memories, he still reaches out, as if that could save the child or the little snake. and even though he knows that he can't, the single word that comes out is like a desperate scream-- ]
STOP!
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Then he'll begin to see how the young teenager slowly lose his vitality.
He was bright-eyed, promising, but always modest about his achievements, as his role dictated. But he starts drooping more even as he grew taller as the days went on, and his motions in combat practice grew more sluggish. He starts looking more and more like the adult Soujuurou knows. The only time he gains a little bit of his previous energy is when he's dancing or singing, practicing on stage or playing a role in an actual performance as a side character, in front of an audience and subject to the lead performer of the night. And then that energy is lost once more when he watches as the lead performer slaughters one or two of the audience members when the curtains have been drawn and all is silent.
And when it's time to sleep? He can't. He's given a tent of his own, or a room of his own, if they're in a more accommodating location, because he wakes his peers up with his nightmares-- what peers he has left, the number even less now. He grows up like this. Tired, afraid, resigned.
The butler takes him aside more often to remind him of who he is, of what he must do. But now, there's something added-- that his coming of age ritual is approaching, and he must kill the target the Crimson Troupe has designated for him. And all he can do is tremble.
When he becomes an adult, the time has come for the snake to prove himself. He's sent to an almost deserted location, an empty house with a single person inside, bound tightly by rope as to not escape. Dressed in flamboyant clothing meant for the stage, worthy of a lead performer, Abyss- or, Shalem, can only look in horror. He has his dagger clutched in his hand, but can't bring himself to do the deed expected of him. He cuts the man's bonds and hands him the dagger, watching him flee into the wilderness, before running himself. He doesn't return the way he came, but an entirely different way, ripping of the fluttery, trailing parts of his clothing and all of his jewelry because he doesn't need any of this anymore.
All he has, save for shredded clothing, is the naked fear on his face.
Soujuurou will feel two strong hands on his shoulders before being pulled out of the memory, and finally, finally facing the present Shalem, older than the boy he'd seen grow up in the span of minutes, maybe an hour, and with a look of concern on his face.]
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he doesn't struggle further however, as his mind and body both quickly realize the futility of it. it's almost parallel to the boy before him that soujuurou's vitality leaves him, staring in horror as he watches people be slaughtered. the idea that shalem had to witness all of this himself, alone in his own fear, is enough to chill the young man down to his bones, but there is nothing he can do. even if he screams or reaches out for him (and he does, like a drowning man desperate for the shore) nothing will happen.
it's only when he feels those heavy hands upon him that he feels a similar fear to the one of the person he's been watching this whole time. deep and primal, it's a flight or fight instinct that's exactly like the one that shalem must have seen in shadow soujuurou's face just over a week ago. an instinct that's been beaten into him not just by the harsh nature, but the elders who sent him and all the other children to face it, always unprepared.
he's frozen in fear, ready to run like a taut string. and yet he stays still, as if fearing that the snake will take him as his prey again. ]
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Breathe. [His voice is soft but calm.] Breathe, in and out. You're all right.
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breathe out.
soujuurou does as told, eyes locked with shalem's as he does one of the things that he's been trained to do-- to simply breathe. to take in the air is like taking the essence of life itself, or so the elders taught him. he simply followed, because they knew best when it came to surviving in the mountains.
after a couple breaths, his expression softens, shoulders slumping under the older man's grip. he's safe, thank goodness, but his heart is still hammering in his chest. ]
That was...Shalem, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have seen that.
[ to peer into someone's memories like that...soujuurou cannot help but feel like he's done an incredibly rude thing by invading shalem's privacy. ]
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[Shalem's grip lessens, but he doesn't completely let go of Soujuurou.]
I only regret that you had to see what you saw. [He's not entirely sure what Soujuurou saw, but he could see the distress on the boy's face and the way he looked like he was yelling, before the serpent intervened.]
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[ there’s a lot of things that he saw. things that felt like out of another world, and yet still resonated with him in a much deeper manner than he would have expected.
he remembers the sight of that brutal execution, and soujuurou looks pale as a ghost. he screws his eyes shut, and takes another breath to regain his composure. ]
It was your past, I think. You… had such a difficult life, Shalem. I- I don’t know what to say.
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Ah, so you saw the worst. [And by that, he means everything. Everything he'd kept secret, not just to his coworkers, to the people who considered him friends, but also Phantom himself.]
Your reaction makes sense, now.
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[ soujuurou looks down, his composure returning to him with each breath he takes. but something about shalem’s response doesn’t sit right with the young man— is it really fine for him to react like this?
he sighs. ]
Well, maybe it does. [ and maybe it’s best to leave it at that. ] It’s just… I don’t understand why anyone would do this.
[ and that’s said quietly and hesitantly with the slightest hint of guilt. ]
I’m sorry. This is obviously really private for you— I won’t tell anyone.
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He can't do that right now.
That's why he's taking another deep breath-- this time, for himself.]
What exactly did you see, Soujuurou? Because, obviously, you saw something that distressed you so. That is less important than my privacy.
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[ soujuurou wracks his brains to comprehend the scenes that he just saw, but decides that there's no point in interpretation. it's better if he simply says it like it is. ]
You were given weapons and a name. Something about how no one strays from the script. From there you all did training drills and um...some more artistic stuff. Singing and dancing and whatnot. Like the idols. [ what an odd thing. he's come to see things like singing and dancing as wonderful things thanks to the idols, but in this case it's the total opposite. ] Then you saw how they took a child that wasn't doing too well and they... [ he takes a deep breath, pushing down the fear that he felt there, not just shalem's but his own. ] They killed and buried that child.
From there on, you grew up. I saw people get killed on the stage and then I watched you save the target you were supposed to kill. [ he nods. even though objectively it would be better to say that shalem ran away, soujuurou doesn't want to see it that way. he would much rather see the good in what the other did, by refusing to take a life. nonetheless, the discomfort is still clear on his face. ] That's when you grabbed me.
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Soujuurou didn't just see secrets that should be deeply buried forever-- he saw everything.]
You saw my entire childhood boiled down to a few minutes-- and the stolen childhoods of everyone who was eaten up by that Troupe and dedicated their lives to obeying. [When he straightens up again, he looks like he could sleep an entire week and still not be energized.]
That said, if I'd seen it all over again, I would be looking for a window right about now. But you're taking this remarkably well.
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[ but... ]
It also felt a familiar, in some ways. [ he glances back at the painting, though quickly turns back towards shalem in fear of being pulled once again. ] We didn't do singing or dancing, but we had daily training drills in the mountains that were pretty harsh too. I was only really bothered by the murders and the fear in your eyes. Clearly they had you doing something that wasn't right.
[ "not right" might feel like the understatement of the century for someone like shalem, but for soujuurou that's one of the highest criticisms that he can offer. harsh training is normal to him and bestowing identities and roles to others is as well. but from shalem's point of view, it was clear that this was wrong. ]
But should I be keeping you away from windows, then? They make pretty bad exits, especially the ones that are higher up.
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Shalem starts biting his lower lip as he looks at Soujuurou-- really looks at him, studies him, how he holds himself, how he speaks. How he acts. He's... a lot like Phantom, actually. And a little like himself, but far, far more like Phantom. Blank. Waiting for orders. For someone to take him by the hand and lead him along, because he cannot think much for himself. How did Shalem miss those signs?]
You just described my life to be something wholly like your own experience, did you notice that? Perhaps the specific details of our training are not the same, but the broad strokes, the doing away of extras who cannot muster up the strength, the training, the lack of any civilization nearby to tell that what was being done to us is wrong... Don't you think, perhaps...
Don't you think that we are alike, in some regard? Hence, how could you minimize your experiences?
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[ ...? ]
Am I minimizing it? [ soujuurou tilts his head, brows knit together in confusion. yes, he did say that their trainings were similar, but to soujuurou, that's where the similarities start and end. right?
the discomfort is clear on the young man's face as he continues thinking, and quietly amends his statement. ]
I don't know. In the mountains, people died, sure, but it wasn't because someone killed them. They'd die from animal attacks or illness. And people also went missing, but...
[ why? why did they go missing? and where did they go? it was some of the many questions that plagued soujuurou, only to always be followed with a pang of guilt for even questioning it in the first place. that's just how things are, they said. that's how they always have been, and there's no reason to stop. ]
I don't know. It feels wrong to call it the same. I never had that fear that you had in your eyes.
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Are you truly sure? You see, these organizations, they do something different to people depending on what their uses are for them. For me... they wanted me emotional, because that was my role. But for another... he was meant to be something else, and so he become something else.
He's quite like you.
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[ soujuurou would retort that he has no cat ears and therefore cannot be phantom, but his own gaze stays fixed on shalem. he doesn't know what the other is trying to accomplish by staring at him, but considering the situation, he feels like he shouldn't take his eyes off of him.
he can't help but be curious however, so despite his apprehension, he mutters a simple question ]
What did he become?
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But sometimes, he is listless, wandering the hallways like a ghost until I take him aside to speak to him. He doesn't think, he doesn't speak to anyone until spoken to. He performs his duties and then disappears. He remembers very little of our shared past but outside of chasing it forever, does not know what to feel about not remembering.
He is... a puppet, sometimes, waiting for someone to take up his strings again.
I see much of that in you.
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[ he says the comment without much bite behind it, but significant to soujuurou all the same. though he has only seen one puppet in his lifetime, it's enough to put him off from others in the present and future. it's the only part that he feels like refuting, since the rest of it... well, he can't find much fault in it.
and he doesn't know how to feel about that fact. he can't even bring himself to argue the shalem's comment about being a ghost, because what is he if not a dead man walking? what was it that father eiri had said about him? that he was a person with no self? a person that could accept everything because he had nothing?
... ]
I don't know how you want me to respond to any of this. It's been months since I left the mountains now. What is left for me to chase?
[ and this, he says with an uncharacteristic bitterness, a sharp longing for his home. just what is shalem looking to gain from this? soujuurou doesn't get it, and it's starting to get frustrating. ]
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What was it they raised you for, Soujuurou? What were you meant to be, for them?
Or did they never tell you that?
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[ ...
he sighs, his gaze pained with guilt. a part of him feels guilty for continuing to question it, even now when his current life and the mountains are worlds apart, but... ]
I'm not really sure. But I've wondered before...why they needed to train us like that in the first place. Whenever I think about it, I feel like they had to have a reason beyond self-defense but...
[ he doesn't know it. or, if he knows, he can't bring himself to admit to it. the discomfort is clear on his face, as it's something that he knows he shouldn't even be questioning in the first place. and yet he has before and continues to do so-- the grave sin he keeps committing over and over again. ]
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I saw someone who was trained not to defend themself or others, but someone who knew how to kill with their bare hands. I saw someone who hit all of the softest spots on a person's body, and watch their victims survive only because of sheer luck.
People don't raise a child to do that unless they were planning on using those skills, that strength, unless that child is the means to an end.
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