sticksandbones | EVENT & TDM 008

Entry tags:

EVENT & TDM 008

LET IT GO

WAKE UP

It’s strange, how as the dawn of a new day finally arrives, coinciding with the howling winds dying out, classic, adorable snowmen seem to have popped up all over the Grove overnight. The fog wall has yet to surround the barren remains of a town that once was, but it’s visible once more in the great distance.

Not that you can see it immediately. Something covers your eyes, and you can feel something heavy and frigid wrapped all around you. As you struggle more and more, the crunch of snow echoes through your ears as you step free- and when you turn back to examine their prison, you’ll realize one of the snowmen was you.

Meanwhile, old residents will get to deal with more and more people popping out of snowmen like daisies, and must remember that this is just their life now. It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.

Though, maybe you ought to help them before frostbite sets in.

MIRROR, MIRROR

The quiet couldn’t last forever. You should have known that something would happen, especially with the fog beginning to make itself known again. And this time, it’s something quiet. As you wake up one morning, there is a mirror on your nightstand — it’s silver and round, able to fit comfortably in your hand and wreathed in crystalline snowflakes.

And as you look into it, your reflection twists into something still undeniably you, but… have you a temper problem? Too many lies? A sadistic sense of humor? All of your worst traits are dragged out and reflected on the mirror, and no matter what, it keeps ending up wherever you are — and whoever else looks into the mirror will see this awful, terrible you, too. All of your worst characteristics, all the things you try to hide, unable to be hidden.

Maybe you keep trying to hide it. Maybe you let it stay wherever it keeps turning up, following you like a particularly terrible walking salesman, or maybe you break it. Regardless, nothing seems to happen… for now.

WITH SHARDS OF ICE

“For now”.

Late into the night, everyone wakes up to a sudden, terrible chill. When you open your eyes, you’ll find that you aren’t in your inn room or home, but instead within a giant castle made of ice. It must be a ballroom of some sort, a grand hall glittering in the moonlight — but looking out the window shows that the world beyond the castle is but a frozen wasteland of more blizzards and nothing else. Though you’ve been granted some of your gear — weapons and some supplies, and coats if you’re lucky — you’ll find that the temperature is dropping steadily, while something approaches…

Peek out the door to the main hall and you’ll see what’s coming so noisily. An army’s worth of hallowed ice knights with all sorts of weapons are marching to the door, intent on slaying the intruders. Should they get close, they’ll attack; should they land the killing blow, you’ll instantly freeze into a solid block and shatter.

And if you broke the mirror that haunted you? On top of all of this, you can feel yourself gradually growing colder, physically and emotionally, and your magic, if you have it, takes on an icy flair that you may find difficult to control. Maybe it's your feet that start to turn to ice first — maybe it's your fingertips. But as the night goes on, you’ll steadily freeze solid, and like any fairy tale, only an act of true love could possibly save you. Good luck figuring out what that actually means. True love’s kiss? A genuine compliment? A hug? What could possibly save you from your fate?

Those of you who survive until morning, who don’t become solid statues of ice or die within the castle’s walls, will be lucky enough to witness the sun coming up through narrow windows the size of your forearm. All around you, the castle starts to melt, dripping freezing water onto your head. For as much as you try to run before you, presumably, drown terribly…

…your eyes will close, and you’ll wake up in your bed, drenched.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW

The morning after that dreadful night, things… settle, again. Aldric’s Grove is quiet, and clear sunlight glistens across the snowy plaza and radiates off of frosted trees. Even now, the apple tree and blackberry bushes are unfazed by the cold, though the fruit may taste crisper and chillier than usual. Those that died within the castle return to life, feeling colder than normal for the rest of the day, but there seems to be no lasting damage. And, everyone who participated in the castle “game” receives a mysterious gift: A wooden coin with a sigil on it, resembling a clock with backwards hands behind a shield, attached to frosted pinecones, red berries and sprigs of mistletoe. It feels warm and protective.

You go outside. It’s been some time since anyone’s seen anything from the woods, let alone something that doesn’t want them dead — so imagine one’s surprise when a small family of deer can be seen walking amongst the trees. Birds alight to the branches on rare moments, and it’s surely a sign of something, that life has begun to return to the forest despite the deep snow and deeper chill.

Never mind that one of the deer has an extra set of antlers and another has three eyes. Never mind that the birds sound like people. Never mind that the rabbits have blood on their maws.

It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.

SPARK NOTES

CLICK TO EXPAND!

WAKE UP

Good day, new arrivals! You are now a snowman. Hopefully people who have been here a bit longer are willing to give you a blanket or ten.

MIRROR, MIRROR

A mirror appears and starts following you around, reflecting what you think are your worst traits or worst version of yourself is. Other people can look into it and see the awful you, too. You can break it and it'll leave you alone, or you can let it stalk you all month.

WITH SHARDS OF ICE

Welcome to the ice castle! It's cold, but you have your stuff with you, and it's not unlivable. Well, until the frozen army of knights starts marching in with the intent to kill everyone inside, anyway. One lethal hit from them will make you shatter into pieces. For those of you who broke your mirrors, you'll gradually grow colder both physically & emotionally, and eventually start to freeze solid. Don't worry, though, you can be saved through the power of love.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW

Dawn rises on the Grove and the dead come back to life. Everyone who participated in the castle game receives a magical charm, though they don't know what it does so far. Animals come back to the Grove as well! ...why do they look like that?

OOC

Happy January! TDMs are game canon as a reminder, and if you'd like to plot with people for this event, head over to OOC plotting. While it is not known to player characters at this time, the charms granted as a reward for the ice castle can undo one future negative effect (i.e. a major death). They are a one-time use item. As for how characters discover this information... idk, we'll see how y'all decide to utilize those. :)

UPDATES

❖ None yet!

SUBMISSIONS

QUESTIONS
INVESTIGATIONS
PAST-LIFE PLOTTING
INTEREST CHECK

(CODE)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Does Vash remember? It's hard to say. The seconds before his body froze were becoming more and more clear. He'd reached out to Wolfwood, had heard his brother scream. He'd encouraged them to look out for one another, and then - there isn't nothing, because that would be wholly inaccurate. What there is is pain, the feeling of being broken into pieces.

But what he does and doesn't remember doesn't matter. What does matter is here. His mind insists it, and the diluted emotions reaffirm as much. And right now, Wolfwood is confessing his love and bearing his soul. The least he can do is reassure him, even if it feels next to impossible to do so.]

I love you. [It comes out a little slow, a little unsure at first, but the bloom of warmth that spread through him is all he needs to know it's true.] I love you, Nick.

[His hands lift, trembling faintly as the settle on Wolfwood's face. Perhaps he'll see the blueness of the nails there, or how bit by bit, it steadily begins to retreat.]

Thank you. For staying alive. For... finding me again.

...fuck, Vash.

[His voice breaks on the end of Vash's name as he feels him lift his hands to settle them along his face. If Wolfwood weren't so insistent on clinging to Vash's shoulders, he might have reached his hands up to cover them. Instead, he just stays like this as they are, biting down hard on his bottom lip to stay its trembling.

He hates this. He hates how much Vash, and only Vash, makes him cry. How many times now has he seen him break in front of him? He probably isn't keeping track. Vash the Stampede, of all people, wouldn't blame him for tears he's shed...especially not over him.]

I wasn't gonna let it go to waste. [He shudders, once more pressing in close, turning his face against Vash's human hand as if to try to help warm it quicker.] Kniv- ...Nai. He's okay. We both...we got through it.

[If anything, Vash feels guilty at how often he makes Wolfwood weep. Maybe not now, when he's struggling to feel much of anything, but once the dust has settled some time later? Maybe. For now, he focuses on wiping some of those tears away. He does manage to feel an inkling of guilt for how unpleasant this must feel, but even that is faint.

More chips start to fall away as he hears his brother's name, too. And not just hearing it, but knowing that he was alive despite everything. He didn't know if they had fought together, or gone their separate ways. But so long as Nai was alive, he could be grateful.]

Thank you. [He sniffs, just once. He's a long way from shedding any tears, but he does feel a faint tickle behind his eyes.] And I'm sorry I put you through this. Both of you.

[Nai, of course, isn't here to confirm or deny anything they did. He can't say whether or not they worked together, and Wolfwood doesn't seem keen on recalling it himself. He's struggling to hold himself together for Vash's sake as it is.

So, for now, he decides to focus on what he can do. What he, personally, can do to help.]

...don't thank me yet. Let's get you to the bathroom. I'll help you.

[Now that they've had their breakthrough, however limited, Vash almost doesn't want to move. There's some part of him that thinks to be fearful of what might happen if they separate. Would he freeze up once more? Forget what it felt like to feel, or the sensation of love whenever he looked at Nick?

He shivers at the thought, and then continues to shiver as the pervasive cold of his damp clothes seeps in. The unfortunate truth is that he was more likely to freeze (in any sense of the word) like this as well. Thus, he eventually nods and stiffly begins to rise from the bed.]

You'll stay with me, right?

Edited 2024-01-16 03:22 (UTC)

[The fact Vash feels the need to even ask is enough to make Wolfwood's heart ache. It makes him wonder just what must be going through the Independent's mind at the moment. How is he feeling? He hasn't really said...Wolfwood can only go on what he's able to glean through touch. Through sight.

So as Vash starts to sit up, Wolfwood is right there to help him, keeping his hands on him the whole time.]

I'm not going anywhere. I promise. We'll run you a hot bath, okay? So you don't have to stand.

[His movements are still stiff, and there's a hesitation that seems to come with each second, as if he anticipates that moving too quickly might somehow shatter him. His brows are pulled taut, an intense level of focus as he tries to make sense of what's going on in his own head.

Overall he looks detached, like someone is pulling his strings from on high, rather than Vash being in control.

That doesn't keep him from leaning heavily against Wolfwood. It isn't just because he needs both the support and warmth. Whatever sense of self is trickling back into him, it seems to be rooted in Wolfwood. In the people he's come to know and the bonds that he's developed.]

That works. [He gives a slow nod and takes his first, shuffling step, then another, toward the bathroom.]

[He doesn't like this. He doesn't fucking like this. Vash still seems...wrong. Something is very obviously not right with him, even if he seems to be slowly coming back the longer he's conscious. It makes Wolfwood's mind race unfairly wild, frantic with thoughts of what could be happening. There's a very real chance that dying here has affected him mentally in some way, some...bullshit magic way that nobody would be able to fix.

It embitters him to his very core. It makes him want to do something about it, but it's not like he can go out and fight the Entity itself. He and Vash already tried, and they both got their asses handed to them pretty much immediately.

He can't think about all of that right now. Instead, he focuses on Vash, looping an arm carefully around his shoulders as he walks with him to the bathroom, one step at a time. It seems like only yesterday they were thundering to the bathroom after sleeping together, under much more lighthearted circumstances. Right now though, all of that couldn't be further from his mind. All he can think about is making sure Vash doesn't keel over, or something.

Wolfwood will help Vash strip, if he needs it. Then, he'll have him kneel next to the tub while he gets it filled, not wanting him to just sit in it lest he accidentally turn it up too hot right away.

He's stonily silent throughout.]

[Even in his strange, disconnected state, Vash knows there's something wrong. Moreover, he knows that he is wrong. The realization leaves a hollowed out sensation of guilt twisting within his chest cavity. Wolfwood has already been through hell watching him die — even in his present state, Vash knows this. And now he's being forced to take care of him, nurse him back to health even when he isn't in his right mind.

The man hasn't had a chance to process his own grief before more got added to it.

He doesn't say anything, though. It's not that he doesn't want to, more that he doesn't have the words for it. It's a conversation his addled mind simply won't be able to comprehend and carry out properly. Hell, even in his right mind he'd likely stumble.

Instead, he does what he's told. He strips down, revealing not just the usual array of scars, but the jagged, blackened and blued line that lingered from his most recent accident. The worst of the cold centered there, and even looking at it made Vash feel sick.

His arms curl around his body, trying to cover it up before Wolfwood can also catch sight of it.]

[When has he ever had the time to process, though? Wolfwood has learned that you don't usually get afforded that time. It's why he was so hard on Vash about Rollo, back then. They didn't have time to hem and haw over the boy's condition when he was very clearly just going to continue suffering if kept alive. Nor was there really the time to mourn him when he was gone. That's just how things work, back home.

He has no reason to think it would be any different, here. Even without the ever present threat of danger, he's learned now that it's still there. It's almost worse like this, actually...unpredictable as it is. Unavoidable as it is.

So, they both operate in silence for the time being. Wolfwood works fervently to get Vash's body warmed up by whatever means necessary, and- for now- he doesn't immediately notice the scar left behind by his most recent injury. Maybe he's deliberately avoiding looking at it, afraid of what he might see as he focuses on getting the water up to a decent temperature.

When he looks back at Vash though, he notices how he's curled up in an attempt to hide. It's not hard to imagine why, when he can sort of see something different behind the edge of his arms.]

You don't have to sit like that. It might be easier if you lean back so you're fully in the water.

[As the tub begins to fill, and as he's certain the temperature of the water has evened out, Vash allows himself to stick a hand in. To his frigid form, the water feels scalding. That doesn't mean he holds back. He'll take the burn if it means chasing out the cold all the faster.

The only problem is releasing the embrace he has on his form and revealing the jagged wound on his chest. He has to steel himself to do this, drawing in a deep breath before allowing his other arm to stretch out. He balances himself carefully as he finally slips into the tub, wincing once even as he begins to lean back.

His eyes close tight, trying to avoid seeing Wolfwood's face as he exposes himself fully.

Does it help? He can't tell beyond the pain lancing through his body. If nothing else, the blue tint beneath his nails has begun to fade. Hopefully it'll do something for the lingering chill within the rest of his body.]

[Now with the scar fully exposed, it's...difficult to look at, even for someone as hardened to carnage as Wolfwood is. It's less that it looks bad, and more that it's still so raw, both physically and mentally. Vash's assumption was right; he'd had no time to mourn, no time to recover, and it's all nearly too much to try to handle all at once. He manages to hide it beneath a mostly-stony exterior, but that can only go so far. There's still an obvious upset quirk to his brow, or a tense way he holds his jaw as he carefully drags his fingers through the water to check the temperature.]

Jesus, Vash.

Ah -

[His arms swiftly draw back over his chest the moment he settles down. It almost feels as if he's holding the pieces of himself together, as if the knight had cleaved him in twain rather than simply spearing him through the chest. Uneasily, Vash finds himself shifting in the water, trying to avoid looking into Wolfwood's eyes.]

It's okay. I don't feel it.

[It's too cold to feel, really. But that's become the story of the last hour or so, hasn't it? Now that he's spoken the words aloud, he doubts they'll be of any comfort.]

[Vash...]

It's not, though. [He's firm, but surprisingly gentle as he says that, letting the water fill up further. He'll probably let it fill a little over halfway before shutting it off.] The fact you don't feel it...

[It worries him.]

It'll pass, Nick.

[It's exactly what Vash would say. Only, devoid of his usual optimism and charm, the sentence falls flat between the two of them. It's hard to believe someone, when they don't seem to believe the words themselves.

But where words fail, he still has action. He lifts his hand, reaching for one of Wolfwood's own. It might just be the water, but at least it feels warmer already. It warms all the further still, if their fingers intertwine.]

We'll be okay.

[This, at least, sounds just a little more believable.]

[It's definitely harder to believe when Vash tells it to him not with his usual sickly sweet optimism, but with no emotion whatsoever. It's like he's talking to Elsword, not Vash...and not to knock the kid or anything, but it's eerie. He hates it. He hates it, he's decided, and he's realizing now he'd give anything to have the normal, goofy Vash the Stampede back.

Yet, as he reaches for his hand, Wolfwood doesn't shy away from it. He takes it readily, threading their fingers and holding it tight, unwilling to let go now that he has it.]

...yeah.

[He doesn't believe it. He won't until he sees it for himself.]

You just...focus on gettin' better, Vash. I'll take care of shit for a while.

[Even like this, he can tell that the words aren't sinking in. He's used to not being believed considering his usual penchant for blind optimism, but this feels far worse. Or maybe it should feel far worse. But beneath the layers of ice, Vash still can't urge his mind to feel more than the barest of things.

But he can squeeze that hand a little tighter. It isn't much, and he knows it. But at least he can offer something. His presence, if nothing else.

It doesn't do much for the fear that starts to well up, though. Even if he can't feel much, he can still feel the way it sticks its knives into his chest. Swallowing around them, he forces himself to speak.]

You won't leave, right?

[Wolfwood wishes he could just let blind optimism coast him through life, but that simply isn't how he operates. It would be a lot easier if he could.

Still, that doesn't mean he isn't going to be here for Vash. But after the things he's seen, and what he's been through? He has to be cautious.

He turns the water off finally, letting the sound of dripping water echo in the bathroom.]

I won't. Not for a second.

[Each droplet sounds like thunder, and it only grows worse the louder the silence goes on. Vash stares expectantly, but the trepidation doesn't seem to show on his face in the same way it gnaws at his mind. It's a little dizzying, how varied his body seemed to be responding to everything.]

Thank you. [Relief floods through him, warm like the bathwater. He even feels it streak down his cheek, leaving him to wonder if, perhaps, he'd splashed himself at some point. It's only when he puts a cold hands to both of his cheeks that he realizes both are damp.

The hand pulls away, a thumb tracing through the tears now staining his hands. When had that happened?]

[......

Just as Vash reaches up to dab at his cheeks with confusion, Wolfwood is stretching a hand out to let his palm rest against the curve of his jaw, his thumb brushing up and over his cheekbone where that beauty mark sits. He's used to Vash crying. He's a crybaby, he cries at the drop of a hat. But...to see him shed a tear, and seem genuinely confused by it?

Bitter, rancid anger bubbles up in his chest. It's only because Vash needs him to be grounded that he keeps it inside.]

I am never gonna forgive this place for what it's done to you.

[It's almost to be expected, the way the tears seem to increase the moment Wolfwood makes that vow. Despair rises up from within him, railing against the fact that the blame is being placed on the world, rather than Vash's own actions. From beneath the ice, he screams his frustration, knowing that he's only made Wolfwood all the more jaded. With each shout, he pounds his fist against ice, trying to escape.

The bubbles rise up. The tears flow faster. Despite this, his mind doesn't process it. The disconnect is still too strong. The cracks in the ice growing might be growing wider by the minute, but it won't happen overnight. And so to the him that his physically present and just slightly leaning into Wolfwood's hand? None of it makes sense.]

Don't be angry. [He can parse this much, but when it comes to offering a reason why he shouldn't? It falls flat.]

[Don't be angry? That's a tall order. Granted, he isn't angry at Vash. At least, not as much as he could be. He is upset still that he took a blow meant for him, but he knows better than to get into that when Vash is struggling like this. No, he's more upset with the Forest, the whims of it that are beyond their control and are the reason any of this happened in the first place.

He looks on at Vash with an expression that's difficult to read, his fingers moving to brush those tears away as fast as they fall.

...]

...sorry. M'sorry.

[His other hand comes up, brushing Vash's hair out of his eyes. And in a rare show of quiet tenderness, he calms down. Forces himself to.]

Don't mind me, yeah? You're...you'll be just fine. A little hot water, maybe some of those sweets you like. You'll be back to normal by tomorrow.

Sweets?

[His brows pinch. The image of a donut floats through his mind, but there's no immediate response otherwise. There's no joy, or immediately pleading for some right this second. Instead, Vash stares at him at first with a blank stare, before overriding it with a smile that's too wide and too bright. Muscle memory wouldn't be so easily bested, and he was well versed in faking smiles.]

Yeah, that should work.

[Maybe it will. If he forced himself into it, took a few bites and swallowed it down, maybe he'd remember it all. If nothing else, it would keep Wolfwood from despairing any further, right?]

You'll take care of me, Wolfwood.

[That smile...Wolfwood doesn't think he'll forget it. It's not just one of Vash's usual fake smiles. It is, in a word, unnerving.

But still. He manages not to let that discomfort show. If anything, he hides it well, nodding once as if to affirm what Vash already said.

It will work, because Wolfwood refuses to accept any alternatives.]

...here. Lemme help you wash while you're here. Then we'll bring you back to bed.

[More than anything, Vash needs to rest.]

[He doesn't really have the power, or even the want to argue with Wolfwood about this. Only briefly does he study the man's face, and even then he hardly sees. Whatever he may or may not be searching for, though, he eventually seems to find it. At least, that's the conclusion to be drawn as he leans his head toward those hands.]

Thanks.

[Under better circumstances, he'd insist on returning the favor. Of offering some comfort in kind. Like this, though, he only follows the instructions he's given with a tip of the head.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT & TDM 008

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject