![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- #event,
- arthur stuart (velvet goldmine),
- aymeric de borel (final fantasy xiv),
- jace herondale (shadowhunters),
- jughead jones (riverdale),
- kenzi malikov (lost girl),
- kurt wagner (xmcu),
- loki (mcu),
- marcus wright (tsfb),
- mikaela hyakuya (sote),
- nico di angelo (chb),
- private joker (full metal jacket),
- rafaello d’este (oc),
- will solace (chb),
- wyatt lawson (oc)
War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
WAR WITH DESTINY
By headsman's blade or battle-axe
Fight For Your Life
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
BATTLE MODE: ATTACK
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
SEEK SANCTUARY
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
Drift Compatible
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
Sanctuary
Maybe scare them. He’s a shoulder-height, fully grown werewolf, and the battle hasn’t left him looking friendly. The parts of his fur that aren’t stained with blood or dirt from outside are a mixture of brown and grey, with patches of white on the underside. His eyes are the same shade of sky blue that they are when he’s human.
Most of the crowd are busy, so Wyatt noses his way around them. Juno’s is the first face he sees that makes him pause. That’s the man from the Halloween dance, the detective. The space detective. Wyatt thinks, maybe he should get changed first. Come back when he’s dressed and somewhat clean, come back when he’s not a wolf. Not everyone wants to see a wolf.
He’s not sure exactly what changes his mind. Maybe it’s something about the way Juno is looking after his daemon, cleaning her up and taking care of her like she’s a real live animal. Wyatt had lost track of his own daemon during the battle, and he twinges a bit at seeing Juno care for his. Hers? Theirs. Whatever, the point is the daemon is being taken care of and that’s a good thing. A positive thing. He goes over, quietly and carefully, and then he whines a little to announce his presence. It’s the least threatening sound he can make. He goes down on his front paws, eyes on Juno and tail wagging a little to see how he reacts. ]
woof
you do.
wolves aren't really a thing juno has experience with, but martian sewer rabbits count, right? larger than him for sure. he couldn't take one, but he knows how to approach one. dahliad had called the wolf a someone, but hey. everyone's an animal when you get right down to it. juno takes his attention away from dahliad and shifts a bit from where he's crouched to look at the wolf, eyes glancing off its fur and then its eyes which seem almost too unsettlingly human with how they look at him.
hell, it's even whining. jeez. ]
Heeeeyyy there... big guy... [ juno says, drying a hand against his trousers as he shifts forward just a bit more. it doesn't seem aggressive? in fact, it almost seems pretty tame. looks like a wolf, settles down and wags it's tail like good old fido might. juno's shoulders don't exactly ease up, but he does offer out a hand for it to sniff. ] Weird place for you to be, but don't think anyone'll blame you at a time like this.
no subject
This feels somewhat deceptive. He's no innocent puppy keen for attention.
Although, he is a puppy, and he is keen for attention.
Regardless. He licks at Juno's hand and lets out a soft little whine. Hello. Please pet him more. He promises he'll tell you who he is later, honest. ]
no subject
maybe he gets a little into rubbing the wolf's neck just a little more, fingers buried a little more in its fur until they come across a couple particularly dirty areas, matted down with blood and dirt. ]
You could probably use a bath too, [ he mutters, but doesn't stop stroking, one hand moving up to rub fondly under the wolf's muzzle (if it bites his hand off, well, he probably deserves it) while the other is very much paying attention to slightly untangling a couple of matted areas with his bare fingers. ]
no subject
Leaning down again, he gently licks at Juno's hand, in apology for making him touch dirty fur. Wyatt's actual injuries are healing themselves, sealing up and replenishing themselves, with the only leftover result that it makes him hungry. As yet, he's too tired to be overly worried about that, and Juno is being too nice to him. He shuffles closer, nudging his nose against Juno's leg and snuggling him a little. ]
no subject
oh no that's cute.
cute for a giant wolf. dammit.
juno's pretty sure this is some kind of deathwish that's just waiting in the wings, but the fondness that it's showing is... pretty endearing. enough that he's both hands deep in the wolf's fur, softly rubbing under his muzzle, between his ears. as far as he can feel there aren't any open wounds? but the blood is very much there, caked in. he should probably feel a little more nauseous, but the smell's been on his hands for so long after washing dahliad down he's pretty sure he's starting to just get used to it, too coppery and sweet. ]
Careful, keep this up and I'm gonna fall asleep on you.
[ seriously, between the adrenaline finally wearing him down, the calm atmosphere of the citadel, and now this guy, he's starting to feel the dull ache of exhaustion in his bones. ]
You got a name or something? [ his hand moves to feel around the wolf's neck for half a second, a soft passing of fingers through fur. ] Tag? Address? Comms number? You're way too nice to just be from the woods or something.
no subject
You know, technically, he's exactly from the woods. That's literally where he grew up. But those are details that he doesn't have a mouth for right now.
Instead, he shifts briefly up onto his feet and shuffles around, dropping so that his long flank is curled around behind Juno. Then he noses forward until he's supporting him, creating a nice fluffy pillow if so desired. Fall asleep on him? No problem. He licks at those petting hands, too, not keen for them to stop.
His daemon is currently missing, and he doubts anyone would appreciate him turning back into a naked boy right now, so instead, he nudges at the floor. He manages to get a scrape of mud down onto it, and with his paw, draws a roughly shaped W. Then he looks up at Juno, huge blue eyes imploring. His head settles down against Juno's hips, snuggling happily in. ]