Prison World #3: Panultima (tw violence, torture, coercion)

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble Cast, maybe even you!
Summary: The third prison world in Xistentia is a terrifying subdimension where sentient people exploit each other in order to run technology that will fend off D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. The 'ruling' class, Primus, are bound to a system of coupling (see: fake dating!), legacy and nepotism, whereas the Servus are put through an elaborate media circus (see: Hunger Games). You're here to study this world. And perhaps even to free those captured.
Date(s): February 8-20
Warnings/Notes: Violence, torture, coercion

Panultima

You cursed your gods and died

The Primus Life

If you thought Earth was a tough neighborhood, welcome to Panultima. Here, life is sweet. At least, as long as you're one of the Primus class.

It's a sprawling city of wicked spires and elaborate canals, covered in a luminous, translucent shield. Rather than a circular planet resting in orbit, instead, it's a flat plane of matter suspended in space, the foundations of the buildings rooted in only a hundred feet of stone and unknown technology. But the vast majority of citizens care little for that. After all, the city has every amenity and experience one might desire.

Restaurants line the streets. Theater is at an apex in development, with a particular focus on integration of moral philosophical themes. Gondolas run the canals, whereas a railway races over the winding laser-track in the air. Fashion is diverse, colorful, characterized by wild shapes, patterns, and accessories. Food imported from worlds both thriving and dying across the multiverse. At the numerous colleges and institutes, premier technology and opera are under constant invention and reinvention.

COUPLE STUFF

Primus culture emphasizes couples. Trios. Larger groups of lovers than that, even. After all, with romantic love and loyalty to care for, and survival hanging on it... who has the time or energy to care about justice for all?

Not these guys!

In this world, the mission and pleasure roll together well. The implant picks up information, so your main job is to explore. Perhaps you and your partner might enjoy yourself a glow-in-the-dark cocktail in a smoky bar where a two-headed singer is providing the music, a tour of the massive shield generators in the sparkling complex. Or pick fruit from one of the hundreds of bonding trees in the city's central park— so named, because it requires successful completion of questions to "the newlywed game" for each before one of the luscious, sweet fruits is released from a vine.

THE SERVUS LIFE

But for the little guy, life is considerably shittier. Welcome to the arena, the fully manipulable bubble reality set up to torture the slave class. The emotions of pain, fear, anguish, and wild, adrenal victory.

Most days, it looks like a forest— incidentally, very much like Xistentia. There are dozens of hybrid creatures in it, most of which are edible, others toxic, several very dangerous. However, the ground below can change at any moment, turning into mud or belching acid baths. Or you might find yourself abruptly attacked by a bear with biological armor growing from its huge shoulders. The control room, operated by Primus, is concealed from view. Its role is to keep the environment challenging for those competing, shifting the settings of the place to advantage some and cripple others.

But the arena's programming isn't the only threat.

Instead, you have a motley host of macabre killers, other Servus locked up in here just like you. Some have survived in here for years, earning favor from audiences thanks to the amount of pure horror they squeezed out of their victims. Some of the better-known brands are the Bantam Butcher, a fallen angel whose first kills were those who took his wings, and now thrives on torture. The trapmaster seems to have control over environmental factors that rivals the control room. And the baker trio will eat the flesh from your bones if they catch you.

For infiltrators, the challenge is worse. Not only might you need to kill, survive, and explore the arena with your implant— but if you want to save the very same people who are out to murder you, how are you going to do that?

Breakout!

Several days into the mission, and that's when it happens-- the control room shuts down, under attack. And suddenly, there's pandemonium. Within the arena, some of the servus know immediately what this means— and they're willing to make a break for it, cutting each other down, crippling each other if it means that the Primus might have slower-moving people to contend with and allow them to escape. Others seem to have long since given up, failing to respond as the trees suddenly go dark and motionless, the birdsong dying into silence. After all, where is there to go? It's either D.E.S.T.I.N.Y., or to join the system that hates them, isn't it?

Are you inside the arena, or out? Are you there to help the fleeing Servus, or are you merely ready to scramble on home yourself and save your own skin?

Footnotes

1. Please ensure that threads are marked with appropriate content warnings!
2. The plotting post for this event can be found here, and the original announcement with some other details is here.

Comments

aymeric de borel ❄️ ffxiv (ota + closed)

[remarkablymodest]

the primus life (ota);

[ Era and him had discussed things prior; it would be wiser to split up and cover more ground that way. While he didn't like the idea of putting her in harm's way, he also wasn't about to doubt that she was completely capable of taking care of herself. And for as modest a man as he might appear to be, there was absolutely no denying that his experiences as a politician were better suited to the upper caste that Era had described. So it's settled.

He has some Regrets when they're actually in the prison world though. What he's presented with is something far more out of his wheelhouse than he had anticipated. All the colorful flamboyance and lavish living throws him off in the beginning. Still, Aymeric is nothing if not adaptable. He fumbles at first but after only a couple days seems to be situated rather nicely.

It probably helps that he's tall and handsome and has no shortage of options for romantic endeavors. He's technically attached outside of this reality but not opposed to playing the part if he needs to. That's why he's flashing those baby blues at the nearest person available, casual smile on his features with ease. ] What are you having? I'd be happy to order you another one in exchange for just a bit of your time.

[ He might be off the market in reality but he's certainly not rusty at this. ]

closed to era;

[ He's been playing his part. Gathering information and doing what he must to help the Servus class in his own subtle ways. It's all been going rather smoothly, honestly, until he sees the broadcast. It causes quite a commotion. The dragon woman, he hears someone say. While that's inaccurate and he knows it, the man already knows who they're speaking of and finds the nearest screen.

His eyes widen a fraction at what it displays, color draining from his face. It's Era. While he'd always been aware of the possibility of her being injured - home or here - it had done nothing absolutely nothing to prepare him for the way his heart feels like it sinks to his stomach and sits like a rock in his gut, the tension in his muscles that practically make him ache with worry. It hurts him in ways he is having a hard time fathoming to see her hurt in such a way. Her horn fractured, the pain that crosses her face and lingers in her body language after. This isn't part of the plan, he knows, but he has to do something. He can't sit here idly by.

It takes the pulling of a few strings, the money already prepared but she's brought to him once she's had enough time to recuperate. ]

Era, [ he starts, voice not betraying the relief that floods him at the sight of her before (almost) whole. She might not be alright, but he can make this better. He's going to. Before she can even say anything, the man strides over to her. He essentially lifts her up in arms not being exactly mindful of the bruises and aches she might have but hoping that the passionate kiss that graces her lips is apology enough for it. They have a lot to discuss. In a minute. He just needs to have this. He needs to have in his arms, feel that she's real to reassure him that they'll both make it out of this yet. ]

wildcard;

(( ooc: hit me up at puddingandpie for plotting anything in specific or if you have another idea! ))

[astralera]

[ While damage to her horns doesn't cause Era any pain - there are no nerves in them - having one viciously smashed apart from where it connects to her skull most certainly does. It was far from the worst pain she has ever endured, but it left her dizzy and physically off balance; head tilted too much to one side as she works to compensate for the change in weight.

Thor hadn't been his right mind and Era will never blame him (has already forgiven him), yet none of that changed how disadvantaged she was afterward. Balance thrown and hearing halved, she could no longer judge where sound originated from nor dodge effectively. Not even the Echo could help her.

So it's a relief when she learns she has been 'bought', knowing immediately that Aymeric would be behind her freedom. Era doesn't allow herself to think about whichever poor soul need take her place in the arena. Her life is, unfortunately, too important to risk - Eorzea depends on her, and Era needs to survive by any means necessary.

She receives cursory medical treatment after being freed, lessening the severity of many of her injuries. Her skin is littered with deep bruises both large and small, retreating under scales that are chipped and askew. The dark colourating is a distinct contrast to her pallid skin and ivory scales.

The sound of Aymeric's arrival causes Era to look first in the wrong direction - instinctually looking to where her remaining horn told her the source was - before her mind takes over and tells her to do the logical thing and look to the door.

She exhales slowly at the sight of her partner. Her whole body seems to slump into itself; shoulders sagging and tension leaving her limbs as the feeling of security Aymeric brings washes over her.

His arms are more than welcome - a comfort Era yearned for while in the arena. There is little pain from it, for she had been forced to swallow at least a token amount of medication to ease her aches. A fact that is mildly discomfiting but she'll survive.

The kiss is only slightly less welcome and Era responds to it clumsily. ]

janus lefevre | ota

[bangitybang]

closed to arthur;

[one last mission. one last mission, before they go home to a world of familiar monsters and love. which might seem like a weird juxtaposition, but it isn't, really, when your fella is a sex demon.

what a multiverse we live in.

but they put most of it out of their mind once they step into the incandescent warp of the transportation system and into this world. and when they do so, they come to realize that there's grief under it-- because they see arthur, decked out in the gaudier fashions of panultima, and realize this will likely be the last time they meet. they look at the way his dark hair falls toward his eyes and his eyes fall toward the loor, and their heart twists in their chest. he looks nervous, understandably. even if the implant does most of the work, the risks still seem enormous.]

Just put your arm in mine, [they tell him. it's their instinct to reassure, to take the lead, where arthur is concerned. it's been their way with him for more than a month now, since the first evening he turned up, weak-kneed and feverish with want— a welcome addition to their shower.] Take a breath and let me take you to dinner.

open;

[mostly, janus keeps their head down. the cover story is something about combat programming for the sophisticated weapons and defense system around the planet— supposedly, they're involved with providing their knowledge and understanding of murder technique to the artificial intelligences. of course, they have no actual intention of giving this horrific world anything like that, but as covers go, it makes sense. there's something about janus, the perfect balance of their stride, their meticulous attitude toward health, that tends to hint to anyone who spends time with them that their better-than-human strength and power is honed for something more than regular business affairs.

you might catch them at a bartelevised servus combat with well-hidden disgust.

and later, when all hell breaks loose and the mutants flee the arena, janus is there, accessible by a subnetwork and ready with a hijacked transport to pick you up. it's a leap in the dark, but it's one they'll make with you.]

[astralera]

[ Era is there when all hell breaks loose (for where else would the Warrior of Light be?), clad in an attention-grabbing bright red dress and healing any who cross her path. Her hood is up, hiding the empty space where her horn once was from sight - space now occupied by her faerie, Lily, who assists her with healing the ones fleeing like animals from a sinking ship.

She made sure to try and spread the word that 'the girl in red will heal you'. Right up until someone is dropped at her feet, barely alive, Era hadn't been sure how successfully her message had spread. The wounded's would-be rescuer runs as soon as they see Era has turned her attention to stabilizing her newest patient, leaving the diminutive Auri woman to carry the man someplace safe on her own. On a good day this would not be difficult as Era has more than enough raw strength to carry a man twice her size, but when impeded by rushing crowds of people and the risk of assault it's not easy.

When she spots Janus a short distance away Era can't help but offer a short thanks to the Twelve, regardless of whether or not the deities of her world can hear her prayers from here. Her Galvanized shields are more than strong enough to make up for how eye-catching she has dressed (her outfit has allowed her to save many lives, but it also made her a rather fetching target), allowing her to reach her friend without any issues of note. ]

Janus.

[ With her head and tail hidden and only her size to go off of, Era makes sure to speak loudly enough that Janus can identify it as her by voice alone if need be. She brushes away her surprise at seeing them (she thought they had left already), instead focused on the task at hand: stabilizing the wounded man she carries as quickly as she can, that she might be able to return to the war zone to continue aiding even sooner.

Her hands glow with a soft, pale blue light as Era uses her aether to heal what she can of her unconscious charge's injuries even as she carries the man. It's likely he won't wake up for a while, which suits her just fine as it means less resistance to deal with. ]

Help me move him someplace safe?

Tony Stark | closed;

[servomotor]

[This is Tony's world.

Well, not really. Tony's world had like at least 1% less televised brutality, legally endorsed torture, and flagrant violations of sentient beings' rights. Maybe a little more than 1%, if we're being very optimistic. It takes a lot to turn Tony's stomach in a visceral way, and he's never been the type to actually need any kind of flailing emotional reaction in order to make powerful, dangerous tactical decisions about anything— but within the first two hours of coming into the world, he sees a couple of servus explode on TV, like, literally explode, and that's...

a lot.

But he hides it well. And he has the perfect partner for this undertaking with him, even if she is stepping on his feet every couple of beats as they adapt a waltz to space music at a party intended to welcome in the latest run of servus. Luckily, somebody cashed in their cluepons about how watching people literally die on giant digital screens is maybe not actually the best mood bump, even for the privileged echelons, and what's on screen instead is a showy reel of clips about D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. attacks deflected, servus who were fortunate enough to become primus, the triumphs of children born in Panultima.

He may or may not be envisioning her with her hand out, biotics charging, all bright light and terrifying, rupturing psychokinetic force, her eyes shining with righteous fury, laying waste to these categorical motherfuckers and their bullshit system. But he just smiles at her, casual, his fingers light on the edge of her backless dress.]

I'm going to dip you, [he tells her, because he's romantic like that.] Promise not to give me a military elbow in the mouth.

[upside]

( it's not a situation shepard is particularly happy with, but she's capable of maintaining her cool in stressful times - she's worked an undercover mission or a dozen, she knows how it all works. antsy without a gun in her hand, but she knows she's got her biotics, and she can snap a few necks with her hands, and she's got a piece still strapped to her inner thigh, just in case. you can't ever say the commander goes into a mission unprepared. well - maybe you can. she didn't take dancing lessons in preparation, but she has a feeling she'd be even worse at this if she had. the irony of being the best sharpshooter in known space and simultaneously the worst dancer the human race has ever seen is not lost on her. usually she's a good sport about it. usually -

she isn't trying to impress, and she dances alone.

tony is being a very good sport. it's obvious that he's danced a tango or two in his life, and certainly knows the right ways to move his feet, where to put his hands, how to hold himself. shepard does her best to follow suit, but. tony's feet are probably going to be bruised regardless - maybe his shins, too. she apologizes after every collision even still, eyes stuck downwards while she tries to focus on not doing it again.

dipping. her fingers dig in to tony's shoulders a little, before her feet stop, arms sliding tightly around his neck. )

Do not dip me.

Barclay Odell ⛵ OC ⛵ Closed to Kenzi Malkov;

[disbands]

Not to be cynical, but this place reminds me quite a lot of my old life.

[The minute that Barclay says this, he regrets it. He was raised British and deeply traditional. He came into this world with the understanding that he was the detritus of society, parentless and poor, and that polite society wanted him out of sight and out of mind. Even after he learned to read, dress well, and kill his way to some decent credentials, he understood that humanity always had an ugly underbelly that wanted hiding. And that he was always a smudge on that belly, even if sometimes a bit of external pressure might displace him onto the ribs of the beast.

Panultima is so shiny. Huge holographic advertisement displays. Memorabilia being sold of the brave warriors in the ring, as if they aren't slaves. You can get sandwiches named after the heroic dead. It pushes him back into his old mindset. He has a beautiful girl on his arm, who deserves a man far better than he— why talk of ugly things?]

The tour is starting, [he adds, quickly. They're snooping at one of the forcefield generators, using the scanning implants in their arms. We're married as a delightful cover.] I'm-- we'll find all the darkest corners.

[moshennik]

This nothing like my old life. [ This place was like the life she was always on the other side of the glass from, nose pressed up to, wanting to steal every sweet morsel for herself. As she grew older, she resented that lifestyle, did as much as she could to take advantage of the rich and help herself survive.

It reminds her of something the Fae would do, her people now. Watch others fight for their entertain, watch lessers suffer and murder and... He speaks again and she tries to keep the bitterness from riling up the bile in her stomach. They are here for a reason.

She holds his arm and slaps on her con girl face beneath her bleached blond wig.]

Let's get this bish started.

hanako 'rosalina' nurumi 🌹 original character (ota + closed)

[hasitsthorns]

servus (ota);

[ It comes back to her faster than she would have liked it to. Rose had known what it would mean to infiltrate this prison world as one of the lower caste but had chosen to anyway. It was fine, she told herself. It was just like going back to the war again. She could do this. That what she convinced herself until she stepped in the deadly woods with their tricks and traps and people trying to kill her at every turn.

It wasn't like the war. It was so reminiscent of the ring in ways that she didn't anticipate; the broadcasts of bloodshed, the cheers calling for more. People who only cared about money and entertainment watching on with morbid fascination. They even call her the name they did back then, the Black Rose. One of the best. She's good at this and she doesn't want to be but she isand that's what's going to keep her alive. She'll take the advantage despite the way it makes her skin crawl with revulsion at herself. She'll take it despite the way that she can't look at her own reflection for too long anymore because it's a monster staring back at her instead of the woman she's tried to be the past few years. ]

Don't, [ is all she warns to whoever is encroaching on her campsite. Whether to kill her or just to investigate, she isn't sure. ] I will kill you but I really don't want to. [ She's done that enough to last her several lifetimes. The amount of blood on her hands tears away at her soul some days. She doesn't need to add anymore. Not today. ]

closed to vanyel;

[ Even the best of them make mistakes. That's exactly what happens to Rose, she makes a mistake. Or maybe she doesn't. It's hard to tell, really, on the replay exactly what happened. The only fact that is clear is that she's hurt. Badly. It isn't long after though that she's informed she's been bought. The word makes her skin crawl; it's just like what had almost happened to her when she first arrived in humanity's hold. She was meant to be sold off and prized by some collector of rare and exotic creatures. Part of her wonders if it really would have been worse or better than the brawling and blood of the ring.

It looks like she's going to find out.

This isn't actually how she thought their reunion would go in this world. She thought it'd be something sweeter, where there'd both be happy to see one another. It's not that she isn't happy to see him but bruised, battered, and bloody leaves her looking every bit as disgusting as she feels. This is what she meant when she said she didn't deserve him. This is what she meant when she said she felt like she didn't deserve anything. ]

Hey, [ she greets, far more casually than she has any right to. She even manages to muster up a tired smile for him despite herself. ] Sorry you have to see me like this.

wildcard;

(( ooc: hit me up at puddingandpie for something specific or if you had another idea! ))

[drehnifusbahi]

[He'd been for them both infiltrating as Primus - starting out in the most advantageous position could only help their mission. And, of course, there was less risk of grievous bodily harm - or worse. Fighting for his life was nothing new to Vanyel, but the knowledge that he'd be expected to kill and torture for sport, that the blood-hungry crowds might even demand he turn on Rose...

He could never bring himself to harm her, even to uphold a cover, and he knows it.

But he'd failed to convince her to join him as a Primus, so he does what he can from his lofty (lonely) perch. It's fashionable, among the Primus, to pick one of the servus and sponsor them - for a little while. So he picks the Black Rose, paying for her weapons, supplies, medicine... and it still doesn't feel like enough.

So watches the fateful fight as he's watched all her others: almost unblinking, his heart in his throat. It's hard to tell exactly what happens, even in replay, but the result is clear. Rose is hurt, and badly, and Vanyel... well, he's already proven himself incapable of staying away when she's so much as upset, hasn't he?

Being Primus is enough to get him his way, in this world, and he takes ruthless advantage of that to get into what passes for a hospital for the servus. When he reaches her side, it's all he can do not to demand F.A.T.E.S. eject them both right then and there.]

Hey yourself. [He replies in kind, though it falls rather flat on his end, settling in beside her and immediately putting his Healing Hands spell to use for its intended purpose. When she apologizes, though, he just shakes his head.] You've nothing to apologize for. [He would never begrudge her doing whatever she had to, if it kept her alive.]

kurt wagner [nightcrawler] ❧ ota (unless labeled otherwise)

[shadowblends]

cause you're everywhere to me (open)

[coming into this crazy new technological world is a bit jarring at first. there are insane twists of buildings, weaving bodies of water, stores lining the streets in all shapes and sizes. kurt isn't entirely sure where to start at first; it's all so much to take in, but there is one thing he is sure of: his current look certainly won't be primus impressive. looking the part was going to matter for once and unfortunately, he didn't have a backup x-man suit.

so, it's a brief pop in, out and once he's more dressed for 'blending in,' he can be found waltzing along down the streets, visiting theaters, shops, and restaurants. the teleporter's more than a little adventurous, which isn't such a bad thing, yet maybe he happens to bump into you while flitting about, stumbling back with a quick,] I'm sorry! [before immediately moving to help pick up anything that might have fallen.

or, perhaps you end up in a gondola seat beside a wide-eyed blue boy, the heart-shaped end of the tail he has draped across his lap idly flicking with excitement. once the boat begins a more promising notion toward moving, he turns, addressing whoever has sat beside him with fervor.] Isn't this amazing? I've never been on a boat before!


[although, after chatting with kavinsky, there is also the chance of catching him during later times where he'll be rescuing those from the gladiatorial battles. considering his mutation, he has the ability to get people to safety, especially beneath the cover of shadows.

he'll be doing his best to avoid any actual fighting during search and rescue, although there is always the chance.]

when i close my eyes, it's you i see (closed to loki)

[when he finds loki, nightcrawler is carrying an odd bit of self-confidence with him as he approaches. maybe it's the way his hair is styled, sides smoothed back, front swept up out of his face in a way that kurt's never thought to try. dark hair streaked with blue had been his only thing first, but styling? who would've thought a spritz here and there of hairspray could make such a difference?

there's a chance it's also what he's wearing, a complete contrast of his usual jogging pants and an oversized hoodie. he steps up onto the sidewalk in front of the god, shoulders rolled back, spine ramrod straight and a broad grin stretched across his face.] Fancy meeting you here, [he greets, voice lilting with playfulness.]

you're everything i know (closed to aoba)

[running into the familiar blue-haired male wasn't something he'd planned; they hadn't seen each other since the gala and this time, he's slightly less anxious and feeling far more positive this time around.]

Aoba! [he calls from the opposite street, hand cupped around his face. then, he raises the same limb, giving an enthusiastic wave before heading over.

the easy bob and weave between people has been practiced many times now. he shouldn't be hard to pick from the crowd, still clad in stark white with a splash of holographic silver glitter beneath the coat from his earlier visit with loki.

once he frees himself from the group, he continues forward, only pausing when he believes he's a respectable amount of distance away where they can talk without disrupting the foot traffic, but not to the point where they're uncomfortably close.] Hey, are you busy?

that makes me believe i'm not alone (closed to kavinsky)

[after he gets the message from joseph, a bench is where he suggests they meet-- with a little tree hanging over the spread of one of the canals, dropping sweet smelling flower petals onto the surface below. kurt is leaned over the railing, head tipped, idly watching the blossoms drift on as he waits.

he isn't sure what the dream thief has for him and honestly, he's worried to think about it when he remembers the other 'gifts' he's been given throughout the past week or so. golden sex toys, scooters with vibrating seats, flowers that moaned. (okay, he'd laughed at that one afterward, but that's beside the point) he's nervous, yet also not, because as time progressed, so did the the gifts.

starting with the making up of the oddly sexual foliage. this time, they made a high-pitched giggle that kurt couldn't resist snorting at, even if he'd covered his face in a pathetic attempt to stifle the noise anyway. then, it was these good-looking shoes (hadn't he seen them before in one of the store windows?), followed by a few drinks ... then things began to click into place: kavinsky was. trying?

and while he should be ecstatic beyond belief, he can't help the fluttery feeling in his belly that he's wrong, maybe kavinsky is still just putting on a front for the primus, but.

if that were the case, why wouldn't he have kept giving him the more ridiculous stuff?

he heaves a breath, turning on the ball of his foot and slumping onto the edge of the seat, one hand adjusting the coat of his outfit (sans collar), the other rifling through his hair. it's not as neat as when he was with loki and aoba; the sides are fine, but the bangs are disheveled, hanging down in his face. makes for a good way to hide once the other boy does show up, though.]

wildcard

[ooc: or come at me with something of your own!]

[dothelokimotion]

[ To his credit, Loki doesn't laugh, even if the light in his eyes is dancing with amusement. He's not wearing anything special, though his trademark leathers and cape is no longer to be found. Instead Loki is sporting a suit with a scarf hanging around his neck. ]

Indeed. A fortuitous coincidence.

[pillz]

[it's probably just a front. probably. kavinsky is probably just a lot of things— mean, careless, callous, casually cruel, indifferent to the joy and suffering of others. he's probably just some asshole in skinny jeans. he probably doesn't care, really, except to get funny butts for stupid jokes, and to experiment with his power, spoilt even when he isn't being actively sadistic.

except

except that doesn't entirely explain it, when he glances over at kurt in his iridescent glory and says nothing, just watching him a moment. then his eyes are back on the glittering, magnetic hovertech road, their frictionless craft whisking them sleekly forward into the night. but he glances back again the next moment, and neither sadism nor being spoiled explain it, either, when he asks,] You okay, man?

Eclipse | Jailbreak! | OTA

[outshiny]

A. PLANNING

---

[ There's been days of work, days of gathering intelligence. F.A.T.E.S had sent them here with a mission, but Marcos is singularly uninterested in that. He's blending in like he'd been told to. He's pretending to be Lorna's husband, which, actually, is not such an easy thing considering what's going on with them. And he has been looking for information, but his focus is on one thing in particular.

He'd promised he wasn't going to get involved in this war. That was before he'd heard there were people enslaved because of it.

Rumours have circulated around the infiltrators. Plans are being laid to attack the arena, to free those inside. Today, Marcos and Lorna are at 'their' house, and anyone who's willing to involve themselves in this is there with them. Marcos leans over a chart on the table, a blueprint of the arena's controlling facility. ]

Okay. So the arena itself is a bust. It's locked down to keep them in, which means we aren't breaking through without a miracle. But every piece of their tech is managed through the control room. We take that, it's not a prison anymore. We can open every door.

[ Providing they can get into the system. Providing they can get into the room containing the system, and past any security along the way. And providing they can take control at the right moment to let the Servus take advantage of it. Providing, providing, providing.

Marcos leans over the table, palms down. ]

We're only gonna have one chance. We mess this up, we won't get another shot at it. Best case, we end up in there with them. Worst case, we don't even make it that far.

Thoughts?

B. EXECUTION

---

[ The day of the break-in is upon them. Marcos feels charged with nervous energy. He can feel his power beneath the surface of his skin, thrumming in his hands. He always gets this way before a job. He always has.

The plan is to get inside, drawing as little attention to themselves as possible. They need a clear run at the control room. The guards blocking the entrance are the first problem,
armed with weapons. There's a serious of magnetic scanners and searches waiting for them beyond the door. They have to take it, and take it fast.

Marcos meets Lorna's eyes, then moves into view with his hands outstretched. As the guards start to raise their weapons, a light bright enough to white out the entire area flashes out of his hands. To anyone unprepared, the light is momentarily blinding, buying them the seconds they need to get past the guards and deal with the scanners. Marcos moves fast, trusting that he won't get there alone. ]

planning;

[remarkablymodest]

[ Aymeric has a knack for finding the revolutions across realms, it seems. In Hydaelen, he was the one leading it. Here? He doesn't mind just helping however he can. He didn't hesitate in contacting and offering his services to Marcos; as a politician, he's aware that he has a certain wheelhouse of skills that could provide beneficial for a break-in. Even if he can't lead the charge, he can aid it. That's just as useful a position to be in.

He knows that their mission of gathering information is important but it can be severely less pressing soon as someone he cared about was caught in the bloodbath that is the Servus class. This was very personal for Aymeric now. He wanted to spare anyone else the pain of losing loved ones, the worry of watching and waiting for when a broadcast might be their last. He has trusted F.A.T.E.S. until now but the fact that she isn't intervening in this cruel, twisted world doesn't sit well with him. So he will do what she is not with people of a like mind.

This needs to stop. That's what he thinks. ]

I can provide a distraction, [ he offers. ] I know how to fool smarter men than these into unwittingly abandoning their posts.

Ignacio | OTA

[sadico]

closed to husbands (Mika & Ion)

[ Ignacio was fascinated by the Bonding Tree. Not because of the fruit it provided, but because of what it represented: A place where couples would answer questions of their loved ones and be rewarded if they were corrected. He craved that kind of bond with his husbands, regardless of the fact that they were merely posing as such.

He left their shared home early in the evening to shop, then returned with a box which he carried as he requested the presence of his husbands in their living room. There, he sat cross-legged on the plush rug set in front of a roaring fireplace. Surrounded by luxury on all sides, Ignacio in one of his stylish outfits, he opened the box to reveal what he purchased.

Inside were two dice, one with numbers up to 6 and another with letters up to F. There was a folded piece of paper inside, which he revealed to be a list of various questions. It was then he spoke, his voice smooth and accent thick. ]

Now, my husbands. I believe we should get to know each other better, yes? Who will roll first?

open to all (tour)

[ Curious of the city, the Primus could often be found on one of the many tours (only at night). Yes, it was part of his apparent 'mission' to acquire data of his surroundings, for whatever purpose, but Ignacio wasn't quite as interested in that. In fact, he was more delighted by the instructions which D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. had provided him: Expose a Primus to be sent down to the Servus class. A fascinating concept, one he'd find amusing if he found a victim which suited such a fate.

It was easy to run into him in a variety of ways: From window shopping, to strolling down the main street, even to the tops of the tall buildings to admire the view below. He wasn't much of a party person, but he could be discovered near where many people gathered just to observe them if nothing else. ]

open to all (audience)

[ One of his favorite activities in this new environment was watching the Servus class during the games. The Primus certainly didn't skip on venues, and one could purchase a seat in a grand viewing theater to enjoy the view of the lower class destroying each other. He could be found, dressed to the nines, in one of the front row seats with a pleased expression on his face.

Alternatively, he could be found exiting or entering one of those said venues, an obvious connoisseur of torment and torture. However, he was always up for a conversation or two. ]

wildcard

[ Make up your own starter! All are welcome! ]

[infatyuated]

[ mika was not happy with this arrangement. the last thing he wanted was to be married to anyone aside from yuu-chan, much less another vampire. and yet here he was, bound in matrimony to an arrogant prick of a vampire. one who consider humans to be nothing more than livestock. mika was almost glad yuu wasn't around, because his impetuous best friend would've surely attacked without thought. furthermore, mika was familiar with the arrogance of noble vampires and even now, he hated them.

his eyes narrowed at ignacio, knowing full well that while in this strange alter-world of F.A.T.E.S. he had to play along. no doubt, ignacio would milk his power for all it was worth and given the status of their relationship and how the world worked, mika was in a bind.

fortunately, this world had saw to making him look the part. gone were the bloodstains from his noble vampire uniform, replaced with pristine white. a definite counter to what ignacio was wearing. ]

Is this really necessary?

wildcard

[deathkid]

[ when nico had signed up to help infiltrate this strange new world, he hadn't known exactly what he was getting into. arena battles, fighting for one's life... while that wasn't altogether strange for nico, there were aspects of the whole show that put him off to ever wanting to visit this world again. now he's stuck in a suit that glitters way too much, though the black on black suits him well, contrasting with his pale skin. but his brows are furrowed because he's going to be presented, bought and sold like cattle and were it not for his part in the infiltration to get people out, he'd fight against the entirety of the whole thing. unleash hades on those in charge and do whatever he could to save his fellow servus.

not that he can do that right now anyway. he's being escorted into an opulent room with a variety of well dressed men. an auction. but it seems he's being presented to one man in specific. even before he gets close he can tell the man is not human. there's no aura coming off him like a human would have and nico is reminded quickly of rafa or kavinsky.

glaring up at the man, he waits until he's introduced ( simply as "nico" and he scowls that his titles aren't also given, but he has a role to play ), then preforms a quick but rather stiff bow. one he clearly does not want to give. ]

Era ☘ FFXIV

[astralera]

☘ SERVUS - locked to Thor {graphic violence}

It was far from ideal, but Era had no illusions the arena would be anything but a miserable place filled with death. The first day had been the most difficult, acclimatizing herself to the vicious reality she was now a part of. While she avoided landing any killing blows Era knows that those she encountered likely ended up dead regardless of her efforts, yet she feels no guilt - there will always be casualties in war. There is no use dwelling on it.

The second day is much easier. In part because she fell back into old habits quickly and was notorious for adjusting quickly, and in part because she found Thor. It was a relief to have a friend and companion to rely on, though Era had a feeling it wouldn't last. Something would go wrong soon enough.

Era is proven right late into day three when her Echo activates a scant few moments before Thor returns from checking the perimeter. He emerges from the woods, eyes oddly dull and Mjolnir at the ready in his hand as he strides towards her. Her body tenses, ready to move though she doesn't, because this is Thor and he would never hurt her... Except the way his expression shifts and his pace picks up suddenly makes her doubt that. He stares at her with eyes burning in rage, lips twisted in a thin-lipped snarl as he raises the hammer over her head and brings it down on the crown of her head, caving in her skull before she can even let out a breath--

She blinks and is met with the sight of Thor striding toward her, Mjolnir in hand.

Dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, Era makes sure she has a firm grasp on her rapier.

☘ PRIMUS - OTA

The shift from Servus to Primus has been unexpectedly jarring. While Era certainly doesn't miss the arena she does miss how simple it was. Kill or be killed. Survive by any means necessary. It feels almost easy compared to navigating her way through social events at Aymeric's side, watching as he plays the part of politician with such ease it's hard to reconcile this image of him with the Aymeric who fought through wars by her side.

She must play a part as well, but she's certain she doesn't do a good job of it. It's difficult to indulge in the lavish lifestyle the Primus are so accustomed to. This leaves her spending much of her time away from Aymeric exploring local libraries, or simply wandering the city on foot, head covered by the hood of a cloak. Occasionally she braves the less formal parties with or without Aymeric, doing her best to spot anyone who may wish to accept the freedom she can offer.

-

Era fidgets with the wedding band on her ring finger, unaccustomed to the feel of it, though it's a welcome distraction from the way her head keeps tilting to the right and the way the world is now silent on her left side. She does her best to focus on the additions (a ring and a husband, albeit temporary) instead of what she has lost (her horn and half of her hearing).

It will take time but her horn will grow back and she will heal - she always does.


{{ ooc: open to pretty much anything for Primus! feel free to throw any prompt my way. c: }}

[drapes]

[ the arena masters must have realized, some days into era and thor finding each other, that it was a mistake to put them so close together. likely two of the most powerful beings in chains, and both aggressively committed to the concept of peace. whatever fantasy someone had of the destruction that would come from matching them against one another, it would seem they'd be sorely disappoint with the two's apparent refusal to fight for anything but their own fun.

it would seem, anyway. the game makers aren't so ready to give up on the good show, and exciting offering of high emotion to feed to the machine to keep their city safe. when thor had ventured out to find more supplies for a shelter, or a fire, or something to cook on said fire and eat, passing through a cluster of bushes covered the rising of a deep fog - a poisonous gas that was invading his lungs and attacking his senses all too quickly.

when he comes stalking back towards his friend, it's with his head muddled in hallucinations, aggression and angry boiling over. he doesn't see era at all - only hela, his heinous sister, standing over the bodies of his father, his friends, his brother, on the crumbling hilltops of his homeland. laughter and gloating in her voice, bloodthirst and venom. thor lets out a below, a raging war cry, before charging for era, Mjolnir swung towards her head with intent to kill, electricity sparking over his arms and across his eyes. ]

joseph kavinsky | open and closed;

[pillz]

closed to loki;

[kavinsky's never been one half of an old married couple before, never mind one half of a fairly youthful futuristic sci-fi couple marooned in an interdimensional space that runs on tortured slave energy!! but he's like. watched some movies. and he's made loki frown and wrinkle his nose and maybe-- occasionally, laugh, enough to know what he's about when it comes to this absurd mission.]

Sup husband.

[which is why, when loki shows up at the impossibly modern condominium-type complex that serves as their secret fake couple hideout, he has an iridescent rose between his teeth and black silk pyjamas on. he's leaning on the doorframe. a holographic welcome sign sails over the top of his spiky head, which is probably just native panultima stuff rather than a joseph kavinsky super obnoxious special.] You look&mdas; [pfft. he has to stop, take the flower out of his mouth.] —-looked around? I tested out the bed, but I'm thinking our first mission oughtta be drinks, city center. Maybe you can wear something little, red, and gay as fuck under the metro Goth. What you say?

[he leans forward. reaches to tuck the flower behind the god of mischief's ear.]

closed to nico;

[yeah, it takes kavinsky awhile to cash in his cluepons, because what else is new? it seems like fun and games, in the beginning. he can make fun and games out of nearly anything, even getting his heart broken in the armpit of west virginia, even how much he hates himself, even how much he wants to die. he's always had a certain gift for fucking things up with rules and fast-talking bullshit and an aggressively masculine aesthetic so he doesn't actually have to deal. it's never really worked for him, but he's never been able to acknowledge that, because that's part of the game, too.

but it didn't take him all that long to figure out the stakes are higher than all that shit now. the fact that murder makes for televised entertainment is one such way.

so he's out in the sprawling dark today, the false wilderness outside the arena. security in the outlying area is tight, but not as tight as you'd think; after all, nobody actually wants to get in to the arena. he watched a couple of winged cameras fly by, and then stole up to the forcefield. he'd watched, this afternoon, as a bomb had thrown nico a dozen feet. he'd been okay, of course; he's a fucking demigod of death, something to do with outer-space and miniature non-planets. kavinsky had seen the other boy pick himself up and stagger away.

and that's how he knows that nico staggered out to here, somewhere. he'd seen the explosion marked digitally on the map, one of the tall posts of the forcefield rising above. 'forcefield' probably isn't even the right word. the very fabric of reality seems to went and manipulate.] Nico! [he hisses. he hikes his black jacket up higher under his jaw. with his vampire senses, he can hear the hum of the invisible wall between himself and the eerie trees within.] Nico, man. You there?

closed to aoba;

So you're fucking my fiancee.

[it's a charming way to meet a guy, kavinsky knows. he is always (never) exactly that: charming. but he couldn't resist, upon seeing the blue-haired head he'd read about, sitting in a restaurant, momentarily unaccompanied. he'd walked right over, pausing to let a hovering mechanical waiter pass by, then slipped himself into the seat across from him. he doesn't know aoba at all, except what he'd read in the mission brief through his daemon. seems newish, maybe. the hair is weird. maybe he'll pick up some hella fancy space age color products from this place?

(sure. like that's why aoba's here.)]

Seragaki, right? [kavinsky grins at the other boy, his gaunt cheekbones hollowing out. showing teeth, with two fangs slipped down into view. his preference for earth 2000 american butch got a mild upgrade for panultima, but it was pretty mild; it's still essentially a tanktop and jeans he's in, even if they are shot through with a little silver thread, and his jacket over is of some heavy synthetic crap.] Maybe we should fight about dowry up here. What you think? Twelve pigs for your husband's little blue hand in marriage?

open;

[he's fine. this is fine. it's not really fine, actually, not once he sees the first arena broadcast and someone dies, vividly on-screen, gutted and poisoned and ripped apart for everyone to see. he's reminded then, that he has people in there&mdahs; and it's different after that. harder to party, to do his part in the espionage, to joke at kurt and loki's expense. you'll find him at a variety of bars, probably, exploring them as if some teeny tiny variations in geography is going to actually produce new and interesting data for his implant. of course, that's not it. the real issue is, he's a vampire and it's really fucking hard to get drunk, and even harder to get away from the cloying haunt of your problems, period.

but when the breakout goes off, he's out there with the rest, primus bullshit be damned. vampire speed making him fleet in the dark, a sure hand to guide those who need it.]

[mordacita]

[ Since Ignacio had bought him out of the arena, Rafa has had to keep his profile low. Especially now, with rumours of an attack on the arena so prevalent. He's still angry enough that he's minded to join them when it happens, but for now, he must remain anonymous.

Still, staying indoors has never sat well with him. Crowds provide as good a hiding place as any, so he dresses in the colourful ridiculousness of the Primus class and ties his hair up inside a large-brimmed hat, and he fits in nicely. He's on the hunt for his fledgling, having spent too long in this world without him. He knows Kavinsky as well as anyone, and for that reason it's the bars he hits first. Eventually, after trawling several with no luck, he spots the familiar slope of Kavinsky's back.

Everyone here is all about relationships. He comes up behind his fledgling and slides his hand over his back. Then he moves in close, tipping his head up just a little to let Kavinsky see his face. ]

Here you are. If you have no spouse with you tonight, do you mind if I play the part? I am good at it, I'm told.

Rafa (one closed and one ota)

[mordacita]

A. BATTLE (closed to Hunter)

---

[ This should have been easy. Rafa had thought he was ideally suited to a mission like this, to blending in with a class of people who spent their lives in an arena. This, he thought, was where he would excel.

He does excel. He's beaten his opponents without hesitation and with a minimum of fuss. He knows the exact spot to hit a knee to make it collapse, the right amount of pressure needed to make a person sleep without making them die, and the right place to snap a spinal cord if death was required. He's quick and efficient. But as it turns out, this is not the arena he's used to. They don't want quick and efficient; they want it long, drawn out and painful. That's one problem. Another is the number of local favourites Rafa has taken down in short order, earning delight from the crowds but displeasure from the gamemakers.

Another is personal. Already he has regrets, suspecting that he should have listened to Shane and stayed home. Despite the differences from the arena he knows, he's plagued with memories from that time, each more unpleasant than the last. He's begun to have flashbacks while he's fighting, and that's dangerous for everyone.

It's the last thing he needs today. He faces not one opponent but three – the Baker trio, a definite favorite, and one he's seen decimate others here. The uneven odds don't bother him. If anything it makes it easier to keep his mind present, since this would not have happened at home. At first it goes well. He's cornered one of the trio and caught them in a hold that knocks them out cold. He turns to face the others, his fangs lengthening in his mouth – and then a searing flash of light blazes along his face, making him cry out and throw himself into the shade.

He looks up, eyes widening as he sees what's happening. It's not just one flash. The arena's sky is changing, shifting from night to day. The sky is clouded, but beams of light cast down between them, moving across the field. The right side of his face, his neck and his right hand are all blistering from that brief exposure. Now he skitters back, avoiding another beam moving for him. He's so distracted by it that he almost misses the dark laughter coming from behind. The swish of air alerts him at the last second, making him duck down and retreat back again, dancing between beams of light that seem determined to spear him.

Suddenly he's afraid. It fills his stomach, while his eyes dart around the arena, calculating a new plan of attack. He needs to win. He needs to do it quickly, and get out of here. Would they let him leave, if he managed that? Or are they determined to see him die? He can't think about it. He jumps back between two light beams, catching his face again and cursing. Their movements are too erratic. He needs a plan quickly or he will die. Time is running out. ]

B. THE SERVUS LIFE (ota)

---

[ In the aftermath, he's a changed creature. The burns are taking a long time to heal, not least because he's trying to refuse Hunter's blood. Not that Hunter seems to feel any particular need to obey his king on that matter, but regardless, he's trying. Rafa is reluctant to leave his side afterwards, doing so only when he's forced back into battle. He's much changed to how he had been in Xistentia. His easy, lazy confidence is gone, replaced by something vicious and angry. He needs to get out of here. More than that, he needs to get Hunter out of here.

All of this is entirely his fault.

He's now quick to break their handler's rules, drawing far too much attention to himself. There's been more than one altercation with their guards, resulting in more burns – this time from holy water, which Rafa finds particularly offensive. They're learning to protect themselves from him. They are right to.

He's easy to control, though, since any threat to Hunter makes him fall in line. He is so much more desperate than before. He'll fight when he has to, but escape is on his mind now. Perhaps you are one of his opponents, forced to face him on the field. Perhaps you find him fighting with the guards, or perhaps you find him waiting, sullen, inside. His mood deteriorates as the days go on, and he ends every fight with more sunburn than at the start. Now, perhaps, he's giving them the fear and anger that they want. ]

[sadico]

[ Ignacio had been enjoying the arena immensely, though the addition of Rafa suddenly filled him with concern. While he had confidence that his friend was powerful and could likely topple any foe, a fact which was proved time and time again, Ignacio was also very aware of how rigged the system was.

Why was Rafa a Servus?!

He had left to find those who were in charge before he saw the usage of the sunbeams, which was why when he was escorted to where Rafa was being held an a audible noise of shock escaped him when he saw his burned face. ]

Rafa... [ He began, his voice thick with emotion. It took every amount of self-control he had not to tear the throats from the guards, but instead he growled at them with hatred clear in his voice. ] Leave us.

[ Unable to disobey a Primus, Ignacio was left with Rafa and he approached him slowly, unwilling to cause him more pain by sweeping him up into his arms- which was what he truly wanted to do, but he imagined those burns were on more than merely his face. ]

Rafa, [ He whispered as he crouched down beside where he sat. His lips parted with so many questions he couldn't put into words, but the question was clear in his vivid green eyes: 'why!?' ]

jughead jones (open and closed)

[novelizes]

𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻❜𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 ➨ (primus offices and around - open)

[ sitting at a cubicle is the last place jughead ever thought he'd find himself. but it's necessary. part of the grand scheme. the world of the primus is far above him, but finding himself within it, he's doing what he does best, work against the system. he smirks to himself as he taps away at the computer in front of him, quietly and secretly working in lines of code that'll eventually help those in the arena. small glitches to the system. it may not be much, but as far as jughead is concerned, it's a start.

but what he's truly proud of is the posters that have been popping up around popular areas. posters that have been obviously handmade. fingerprints can be found, there's no surveillance of whoever put them up. but on just about every corner, one can be found decrying the upper echelon of the primus class. ]

𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗬𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗠
𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗬. 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗪𝗡. 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗨𝗔𝗗𝗘
𝗢𝗕𝗝𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧

𝘄𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀
𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲❜𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆
𝗻𝗼 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘁
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘄

𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧
𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘-𝗨𝗦; 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗘-𝗨𝗦

𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗲 𝗴𝗼 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻; 𝘄𝗲 𝗴𝗼 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 ➨ (closed to betty, veronica, and archie)

[ living in the world of the primus has not been something jughead is getting used to easily. for one thing, finding out he's married to his best friend is weird. finding out his beloved girlfriend is married to her best friend is just as odd. but like any time they've faced adversity or problems, they'll face it together. they've solved murders, overcome so much, they can face this strange world.

which means they have to meet. jughead is quick to shoot a message to betty ( whom he's sure will relay it to veronica ) and then tells archie. it's time to meet and while pop's is inaccessible, he finds the next best thing. a cafe situated on the edge of primus territory. as usual, he's the first to arrive, typing away at his laptop as he waits for the others to arrive. ]

[perfectible]

[ the fab four will always stick together. they don't need a diner table between them to cement that bond. it's more than just a hometown thing too. at least for betty it is. and can't pretend that isn't strange to be married to veronica, her best friend, especially when they're both head over heels for the boys in this situation.

yes, betty relays the message to veronica. which is why they're walking hand in hand towards the cafe's entrance, playing the part of a blissfully wed couple] This is one of the weirder things we've done.

Estinien Wyrmblood | Final Fantasy XIV | OTA

[earlywyrm]

FALL FROM PRIMUS GRACE;

[ when Estinien was pulled through the aether into this High Allagan age looking super city, his armor had been striped from him, his body scrubbed clean by strangers sometime while he’d been unconscious. He’d woken to a panel looking him over, judging. The savage part of him watched with narrowed eyes, wanting to rip into the first throat that came close enough. The smarter part knew it was better to keep quiet. Silent, as they looked over his high cheekbones, fair Ishgardian skin, his long Elezen limbs. As the introduced him to another fair seeming man, spoke something about couples and marriage and keeping their city safe from an outside evil. Estinien had smiled dully and nodded, as if he only understood every other word that was spoken.

He'd played along only long enough to get his view of the primus class - their accommodations, their luxuries, their expectations. their games, the most perverse of which was the arena, and the sacrificial servus class. not even the darkest days of the holy see's rule of ishgard could compare. it's more than enough to let estinien make his decision. which he does inside an observation booth, only a day or so after arriving (having given excuses to his supposed stranger-husband why he could't yet consummate the marriage the nights before).

as a particularly gruesome slaughter is going on below, his spouse flinches away from a man having his head sawed off by a rusty blade, letting out a sheepish chuckle, and telling him something along the lines of thank the gods it's not us down there with those beasts, before leaning in for a kiss, as if it'll wash the horror from his mind. Estinien smirks, something sharp and wicked, and snaps forward, teeth digging into the man's lip and part of his cheek, canine's piercing the skin, before he yanks back hard, ripping a nasty few gashes through his now ex-husband's face. the guards rush forward to restrain him immediately, but the Azure Dragoon's cackling laughter rises above all the shouting, gasps and screaming. ]

Put me in your arena, savages! [ Estinien cries out, looking less the elegant elven thing he'd been before and more a rabid dog, long silver hair in a wild mess, crimson staining it where it hangs near his face. ] I’d rather be a war dog than a whore!

PRISON BREAK;

[ Inside the arena, Estinien isn't the kind of butcher that stalks down the other players, refusing to put effort towards protecting the frightened leeches above, but nor does he ignore the attacks made on him. In Ishgard, the Azure Dragoon was known as a noble warrior, but also as a brutal, harsh, dominating fighting. While he's merciless with those that seek to make a victim of him, he's no fan of torture. Quick, efficient kills, bodies dropped and left behind.

Beyond that, he spends most his time trying to find the control room he knows is somewhere at the heart of the arena. It isn't until the bright flash of the prison break attack that he can really pin it down, and goes running in the direction of the light, skidding over the flickering environment until he makes it to the room broken open.

Other gladiators are ignore in his run, unless they look to stop him, to which they'll win a lance through the chest, before being vaulted straight over. servus or primus, really, until he can make it inside. he follows the tracks of the freedom fighters that opened the way, and when he happens on anyone wearing clothes more fit to primus class, they'll have a bloodied, primitive but wickedly sharp lance pointed to their throat. ]

I came here with effects I've since been separated from. Your storeroom, please.

WILDCARD!;

[ eeyyyyy ]

[astralera]

[ The bright red dress Era is wearing is more suited to Primus than Servus if only due to its colour. The sleeves, hood, and length of the garment are far more modest than what many Primus prefer but Era was never the most exemplary Primus to begin with - she shies away from most physical contact, it quiet, soft-spoken, empathetic, and entirely monogamous.

Really, quite the horrid member of the upper class.

The bright colour Era wears was one she chose specifically because it makes her stand out. 'The girl in the red dress will help you' is the message that she's tried to have spread, though she isn't certain how effective it will be beyond the handful of injured she's encountered already.

Estinien comes up on her wounded side, making her respond to his approach a breadth too slow. Era knows she isn't in any true danger, otherwise she would have experienced a slit throat and an abrupt awakening from a vision, but it's still disconcerting to have a blade so close to her neck. Her codex is at the ready against her side, though for the spell Era has at the forefront of her mind she doesn't need it. Her aether pools at the tips of her fingers as she begins turning to face the person who dares threaten her, ready to defend herself as need be.

It's Lily who recognizes the voice first, tucked away in her hood in place of her horn. The ethereal faerie pats her cheek, passing the message along to her mistress silently. From what Era could distinguish of the voice it did sound familiar...

As the Warrior of Light turns around fully her expression is one of stone cold calm. One that Estinien should be intimately aware means he had better not make a single misstep, lest the wrath of Hydaelyn's Chosen fall upon him. Even Lily looks entirely displeased with the Ishgardian, firmly on her mistress' side.

On the inside Era is incredibly shaken, having never expected to see the Azure Dragoon in Xistentia let alone Panultima. But that is something Estinien never need know. ]

'Warrior of Light, it is good to see you. Might I request your aid?' [ She mimics Estinien's tone perfectly, though puts in no effort to deepen her pitch whatsoever. Let it not be said that Era can't snark with the best of them. ]

Of course, Estinien. Anything for a friend.