sticksandbones | EVENT & TDM 020

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EVENT & TDM 020

WAKES AND AWAKENINGS

Are you one to find yourself plagued with nightmares? Do you dream at all? Well, worry not, because tonight you find yourself in a somewhat alarming peace. You’re asleep. You’re aware of this. Yet, you feel incredibly lucid, all the same.

You hear the sound of water, like you’re under the ocean waves. You don’t see anything, but it’s almost as if you can feel others around you, despite not touching anything at all. They’re your… family? No. Friends? No. You don’t seem to be able to find a word to describe them. They’re important to you! …You think. Who are they, again?

You think they’re trying to speak to you, but all you can hear is the sound of gentle currents and air bubbles. Or maybe this is what they’re saying to you? You don’t know. Dreams are weird, aren’t they? But then they sing. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard. It’s the most haunting sound you’ve heard. It encourages you to move, at last. You didn’t realize you could. There’s a light that filters through the surface of the water…

…and you wake up. You feel strangely refreshed, like that’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in ages! You also feel… distantly sad, like you’ve just remembered something horrible that happened a long time ago.

It’s probably nothing.

For the rest of the month, you find sleep comes easy, and dreams are soothing. How uncharacteristically nice! Maybe don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

A BITTER ARRIVAL

You wake up to bitter cold. It's dark, the winds howling and whipping through the air, snow battering anything not sturdy enough to stand tall against it... and even the trees seem like one more push could knock them over. This isn't a forest you know, yet it seems like home. If you're not prepared for the cold, the warm lights of a small town will guide you, call to you, and your heart yearns for warmth. As you stumble through the heavy snow and harsh winds, something heavy hangs from your neck and the winds begin to form words with your own voice- SACRIFICE... END THIS WINTER WITH SACRIFICE.

As more voices join the wretched wails, your eyes feel heavier. You're almost to the town, though. Is it one of the houses that you wind up knocking on? Or do you manage to get to the inn, big and tall and radiating more warmth than anything you've ever felt? Regardless, you are no longer alone, but the cold still aches and clings, and something with your voice still calls it's omens outside. Only when you melt the heavy snowflake-shaped amulet hanging around your neck in the fires does the cold abate and the foreign copy of your voice fall silent.

A COLD RECEPTION

In the forest of the lost, the worst winter you've ever seen has finally set in full. The lake and river are both frozen over completely, and even the most hardy of beasts have hidden away from the cruel blizzard. The sky is dark, the winds are sharp and the freezing temperatures permeate most buildings, creeping in like a thief ready to steal the breath from your lungs if you aren't careful. Even fires seem to bend to this cold, save for the ever-burning, ever-blinding light of the fireplace in the inn- though she's long since gone, it seems one woman's faith still protects those in the Grove. Shadows haunt the clearing and amongst the winds and even the deafest ears can hear the voices howling alongside the storm, always demanding the same thing: a sacrifice.

When shadows flicker across the window, that is when you know you aren't alone. Ghastly wraiths of frost and ragged sleet fly through the air, and it's hard to tell if they are commanding the winter winds or if they are working in tandem. Regardless, the cold seems to be enhanced by their presence and if they catch you alone outside, they curse you with a frost so deep it pierces the heart and spreads. To some, it may be familiar, like turning to ice from within. To others it may be entirely new. But it spreads slowly and with agony while the wraiths make their demand once more and then vanish. Thankfully, a bit of kindness can melt the ice, but the winter wraiths are always willing to inflict the curse again...

... But you are not powerless. So long as you don't go alone, so long as you have a weapon, you can fend these things off, for a time. But they will be back.

They must have their sacrifice, after all.

BEACONS

Not everyone can fight though. Not everyone should. The only peace that can be found is in the sleep that follows that odd dream... but eventually the large shadow woman known as the Trader, Ydalir, makes her way through the snow to find you. With a warm furry blanket and a cup of tea, she gives you a small kit.

"Build these lanterns and hang them in the window. Be a light in the dark, loves." Is what she says.

The lanterns consist of wood, paper and a little cup for a candle. They can be in any shape and color, and when you hang them in the window the candle sparks into light. As frost clings on the other side of the window and the snow shrouds the outside world and veils what lies beyond, you can see other lights. Other lanterns, shining brightly. It may not be much, but it is still a sign. A reminder. You are not alone in this blizzard.

Spark Notes

summary

wakes and awakenings will bring you into a strange dream of being with many being, important ones, and a haunting song. Despite the melancholy feeling, it also brings a month of restful sleep no matter what.

a bitter arrival is how our new arrivals find themselves: lost in the woods in the middle of a terrible blizzard with only the faint lights of the Grove to guide you to safety. While you wear the snowflake amulet, the winter wraiths can use a mimicry of your voice to make their demands and curse you with a lingering freeze- only melting the amulets in a fire will set you free and silence the copy of your voice in the cacophony.

a cold reception shows just how bad the winter's gotten, with impenetrable ice freezing both the lake and the river solid. the wraiths curse whoever they see with turning to ice from within, but a genuine act of kindness or love will save their victims. the wraiths can be fought, but only with a companion or two, and definitely not with your bare hands. ... they will return though, again and again.

beacons grants perhaps a bit of hope in this dark winter- ydalir brings people supplies as best she can since the cold doesn't affect her shadowy body and there is nothing for the wraith to freeze, and she also brings a gift- a lantern to craft and hang in the window to show the others in town that you're all still here, cutting through the darkness.

out of character

Welcome to the first TDM of 2025! Regular AC resumes this month and as you can see, we're changing things up a little. TDMers are welcome and encouraged to reach out on our plotting post linked below. We're so excited to start the new year with everyone, and may the horrors stay in writing... because they are resuming now.

updates

❖ AFFOGATO COOKIE has used a magical artifact as a sacrifice. This has resulted in the blizzard lessening but still being present and the wraiths being banished from the grove, but still haunting the forest. There are further effects but they will come in to play during a player plot. ... Get your sacrifices in still though.
❖ MAYOI'S prayer to Ourania the day of the fight with Suri invoked a blessing: an aurora shines through the sky, and anyone in it's lights will be gradually healed and soothed.

submissions

❖ Questions
❖ January Plotting (Open to TDMers)
❖ Sacrifices (Plot relevant, open to all)
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations

code

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Boy, Dion should be glad Clive harbors no ill will towards the Empire - and Dion - for the branding. He catches the look, that flash of a glance towards him, and he raises his hand self-consciously still. It hasn't been an issue for five years, but the memory will always be burned bright into his mind. He drops it again before he touches his own cheek though, remains silent. His mug is empty and he knows better than to refill it, so he doesn't, but he will stare into it for a moment.

Then, like Joshua, furrow his brow at the last bit and look up, confusion in his eyes. He catches Joshuas glance and nods, frowning a little at Dion. ]

He's right. You're part of the family now, a brother.

[ And not just because of Anabella being a demon in the thin disguise of a woman. ]

Our hands go to your cause, as we know your hands lend to ours. For here, it means keeping people safe as we figure out ways to take down the beast that looms over us. As such, never call it a God again. Such words are power here. But feel free to profane it such as-

[ Oh, he's grinning now, trying to lighten the mood. Has Dion ever heard such language as he's about to hear, or has his Dragoons and his soldiers been far too proper around the Lordling? ]

Cunt, prick, little bitch is a favorite around these parts, I think I heard whore-son once but-

[ A little shoulder shrug. Welcome to being an Outlaw, Dion. ]

[Yeah, he's going to make a point to avoid the hell out of the Brand, thanks. He has plenty of memories that he doesn't want to relive, let alone share with strangers. He'll fail miserably in doing so in a matter of a few days, but hey. Let him sit pretty with his resolve for the time being.

Anyway, pardon him as he lifts his brows. He glances from Clive to Joshua, then back again. He knows what Clive means, and yet...]

A brother? [There is just a small second in which his mind runs away with itself, before he swiftly reins it back in.] I suppose it is a better familial association than the other tie that binds us.

[He won't say her name out loud, and not only because he's certain the brothers don't want to hear it. They'd only just said names are power and -

Oh. Those are quite the names. Certainly, Dion had heard worse on the battlefield. Soldiers could be vulgar, and though he held his dragoons to a higher standard than all that, he was certainly no virginal boy locked away in an ivory tower. Still, the brazen way Clive carries on does serve to warm the very tips of Dion's ears.]

I shall... make a note of all of those names. They are - creative, if nothing else.

[Great Greagor have mercy upon him.]

[ Dion's confusion brings a smile back to Joshua's face. He knows precisely what Clive means, of course, but the fact that Dion is perplexed by it is... ]

He means a brother in arms. Just as anyone in the Hideaway. You're a part of the group now, Dion.

[ And he's glad for it. His own joining had felt... so nice, honestly. The Undying are wonderful people, working hard while living in the shadows, but the people of the Hideaway just feel so different. They don't perceive him as a symbol. They consider him a person, just like any of them would be. And now Dion is that, too. Just a person.

But watching Dion's reaction to Clive's rather crass language - he knows exactly where he got it from, too - makes him tip his head down, politely and softly laughing into the side of his hand. ]

Any derogatory terms help, really. So long as you don't call it anything respectful.

[ Just a person. Just Dion. And he lifts his mugs in a fake cheers as Dion gets the idea, his eyes crinkling a little as he then picks himself up to get some water instead. And some water for Dion and his brother. He'll set the water in front of them all.. as well as some food. Just whatever Luca has available to munch on to absorb what little alcohol they did drink. ]

Eat.

[ Then settles himself back down because as far as he's concerned, he has nothing to do but sit with his brother and Dion, though he's giving Dion the eye a little. Just... checking him out. His current situation, whether he might need rest. Medicine.

A bath. ]

Right. Brothers in arms.

[Not so unfamiliar to him. He thinks, somewhat forlornly, of the dragoons he had left behind. Part of him longs for the simpler days back in their camp. And yet, tehre is also comfort there, too. If it's to be anything like those days, then perhaps he'll settle in just fine with the Rosfields.]

I suppose there is nothing to do but come up with a suitable name then. [He won't be taking Clive's examples, thank you very much.

As Clive gets up, Dion finds himself sitting back. There's been a lot to take in. If he weren't used to outright insanity at this point, maybe he'd be dizzy with it. As it stands, he just feels tired. Or maybe that's the wine and his injuries talking.

Either way, he hasn't had much time to think about his appetite until a bowl of stew and a side of bread are placed in front of him. It's simple, and yet it makes his stomach growl all the same. Humiliating.]

My apologies. [He mutters it quickly before taking a bite of the stew. He's still a refined man, and eats with politeness. He just eats quickly, while he's at it.]

I've taken to calling it the Fallen Sun, if it helps.

[ Just a suggestion to get Dion started.

But as Clive gets up to retrieve food and water, Joshua is content to give Dion his silence. It's a lot to take in, especially all at once, and Founder knows he'd needed time to process it. If there are questions, they are here to help Dion through it, but otherwise it would be an insult to Dion to try to hold his hand through the process. He will help if asked, and nothing more.

When Clive brings everything back to the table, he abruptly realizes that he was more hungry than he thought. The bowl of stew is scrutinized for a moment, with a soft sigh of relief upon seeing no carrots floating in it. Clive truly does look out for him. ]

Thank you, Clive.

[ And though he's hungry, he still picks at his food. With the curse beginning to settle into his stomach, eating too much too quickly makes it ache, so he tends to take it slow. But he watches Dion as he does, lips curling around his spoon at the apology. Old habits die hard? ]

[ Clive will wait for both of them to start eating before he helps himself. If his bowl looks like it has way more carrots than normal, well, Joshua don't look. ... And he speaks while he eats because unlike Dion - and Joshua - Clive has spent the last eighteen years as a branded and then an Outlaw. He has manners. Not just really around people he actually gives a damn about. ]

Try not to stick to one name too long.

[ To Joshua and Dion both, Clive giving his brother a pointed look then watching him pick for a moment with a pinched expression. Then digs into his bowl to pull out some of the stew meat and place it into Joshua's. ]

A name for too long becomes a Title. It's probably not as bad as "naming" it, but it's bad enough.

[ Then he stuffs a rather large mouthful or two of soup into his mouth, along with some bread. S...sorry. ]

[Dion studies the exchange of food quizzically. He chalks it up to it being a sibling thing, something he was woefully (and perhaps obviously) inexperienced in. Olivier, don't interact.]

There are many rules to living in this place. [Cue him being worried about giving a name to anything for the next forever. Imagine if his furniture came to life or something. But that's probably outlandish thinking.

Probably.

Anyway, he watches Clive eat and... has to suppress the urge to wrinkle his nose. He's eaten around all manner of men, he's used to poor table manners but... come on man. He turns to Joshua, inclining his head toward Clive.]

Does he always eat like this?

[There is... a faint smile on his lips. Brothers in arms are meant to tease each other, right?]

[ Joshua catches the look that Dion gives them, and he smiles sheepishly. He's aware it's a little childish, but... ]

Clive always takes care of the carrots for me.

[ But thankfully, that's all the explanation he gets out, because Clive is... well. He sure is eating. Very enthusiastically. Dion may be able to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose, but Joshua can't. At least it's with a smile? ]

Only when he thinks the bowl is trying to run away from him. Honestly, Clive.

[ The teasing makes him glance up and crinkle his nose at Dion in return. There's no malice in the look, however, because it turns it on his brother a moment later. At least he clears his mouth and washes it down with water. ]

I merely appreciate good food. And I'm hungry.

[ It's huffed out but he will... ease up on stuffing his face, rolling his eyes in return as he does and making little mocking gestures with his spoon. There, your HIGHNESSES, is this better?

Though the moment they look away he's dipping his head again and shoveling in more. ]

[The grim reality of Clive's situation, the life he'd spent effectively in chains, very nearly threatens to ruin what little good mood Dion had managed to cobble together. He reminds himself that the other man's suffering had happened under his own banner. The thought settles unpleasantly within his mind, another reminder that perhaps his father had simply never been the man he'd thought of him as.

But the light mood between the brothers prevails. And despite it all, Dion can't help but laugh. It's a light sound, almost hesitant, but some of the tension in his shoulders eases up all the same.]

Far better. My own appetite will live to see another day.

[He shoots an amused glance toward Joshua, then feigns exasperation. How did you grow up with this.]

[ It's all in good fun. Clive knows it, too, Joshua knows. Just seeing his brother try to temper himself is enough to make him muffle a laugh by placing a spoonful of stew in his mouth.

But it's so good to see Dion feeling well enough to laugh. He's not sure that he ever truly heard the sound from him before, now that he's thinking of it. It's... nice. Pleasant. ]

Thank the Founder for that.

[ He returns Dion's faux exasperation, but then turns to look fondly at Clive all the same. This is his brother. Faults and horrible table manners and all, he loves him. ]

[ Give him a second to clear his mouth again, surprised by Dion's laugh as well. Like his brother, he decides it's nice. It's soft, sort of like the brother's own. Like Dion's forgotten how to laugh freely. ]

I feel under attack, here.

[ His words are amused, however, and he'll allow it, shooting back a fond look to his brother and nodding to his bowl. As much as you can. And? He gives the same look to Dion, pointing at his bowl with his spoon. ]

Eat, lest I forget whose bowl is whose here and dig in.

[Dion recoils, holding his left hand to his chest. He looks incredibly scandalized, thank you very much. Jokingly so, but scandalized all the same.]

Excuse you - [He hunches back over his bowl almost protectively.] Need I remind you, I am only two days dead by my count. I can only surmise that I need all the energy I can get.

[Never in his life did he think he'd be joking about his own demise with an Outlaw, yet here he is. Nevertheless, he does take a few bites before muttering into his stew:]

All of the brawn and none of the manners, I see.

[ Joshua nods back to Clive, his attention turning back to his bowl. As much as he can is the mantra of every meal time, so he's well prepared to do as his brother says.

But he's not entirely prepared for the fond bickering between his brother and Dion. His eyes raise to them as he lifts his spoon to his mouth, watching them as he takes a bite.

And then hurriedly has to lift a hand to cover his mouth as Dion mutters beside him, because he doesn't want to be rude and spray stew over the table on accident as the urge to laugh overtakes him, pulling at his lips and threatening to spill out anyway should he not swallow his mouthful fast enough. ]

[ There. That's what he wanted. Dion relaxing further. Letting go - if briefly - of the memories and the pains that haunt him. Just let himself be Dion. He hm's with a soft snort, as if to say sure, then looks absolutely "offended" by the muttering. Then throws a look at o his brother when he raises his hand to his mouth. He can hear that choking laughter.

He takes a sip of his water, deliberate and slow, before putting his cup down. ]

You're lucky I like you.

[ There's a barely hidden laugh in his voice, before he sighs heavily and shrugs, taking the blow to his ego good-naturedly. ]

Manners are overrated.

[The reactions of the brothers are not lost on him. In fact, he finds himself treasuring the moment despite everything. He is perhaps locked in hell, and under the thumb of yet another would-be god. And yet he finds himself feeling... light, in a way he hasn't felt likely since his youth.

And yes, he absolutely feels a swell of pride when Clive admits to liking him. He isn't sure why, but the approval really means something to him.]

Yet neither myself nor your brother have suffered for having them. Perhaps you ought to take note?

[Okay, okay, he'll leave Clive alone in favor of actually eating now. Even if he is nearly grinning into each bite.]

[ Please, please, he's already about to choke on his stew. Joshua has a difficult time swallowing his mouthful, but he manages, pausing to take a drink of his water. ]

It's part of his rogueish charm, you see. Why would Cid the Outlaw have something like table manners?

[ He's smirking at Dion, barely holding back a little laugh. But his boot nudges Clive's beneath the table, fond. This kind of banter feels... good. It's like they're back at the Hideaway. Except this time, he's participating. ]

[ That and the kick gets a grunt out of him and he pointedly ignores them both so he can eat, faking a pout into his food as he does. Keep it up, you two, and you'll regret it.

Somehow, he'll figure it out.

But he does glance to Joshua with a little smile and a roll of his eyes, his pleasure obvious that they managed to get Dion to this state. ]

[Dion watches the brothers with no small amount of amusement. He can't deny that he feels good here with them. Normal, in a way the former prince had never been. Maybe one day he'll think to thank them for it.

For now...]

It might do his image some good. Yes, he is an Outlaw, but one who you need not be ashamed over bringing home for a meal.

[He doesn't bother to conceal what may well be a grin as he spoons another mouthful for himself.]

A shame I was not here sooner, to curtail your image. I fear it may never recover.

[ Joshua huffs out an almost-laugh against his next spoonful of stew. It's amazing what a good conversation and good company can do - even with him picking slowly at it, he's eaten far more than he normally would. ]

A shame, indeed. I should like to have seen it.

[ He's glad that Clive seems to be taking the ribbing in good humor, though he does still watch for any sore nerves. Just in case. ]

[ Okay that makes him scoff and he sets his spoon down into his empty bowl, pointing aggressively with mostly eaten bread instead. ]

I will have you know I've had more than my fair share of flirtations. People like the Outlaw look.

[ And if his eyes flick briefly to Luca and then quickly away, and his cheeks turn just a bit red, than it's nothing. Absolutely nothing. And then, of course, he will mock himself a little with a soft grin. ]

An Outlaw who fetches...

[Curious, Dion follows Clive's brief shift in vision. Though it comes at the cost of missing the way the other man's cheeks shift in hue, the fact that he looks at all isn't lost on the former prince. Huh. Mayhap he is seeing things, but he wouldn't have thought that Clive's interest skewed in both directions.

Good to know.]

Then perhaps it is we who are wrong, Phoenix? [He shifts his attention to Joshua now, lest Clive truly tire of his ribbing.] Shall we abandon our proper lives and live as he has.

[Dion shifts, bracing one hand against the table, elbow pointed toward the ceiling. He hunches over his bowl, shoveling one spoonful in, then two before — gods, he can't do it anymore. He quickly sits back up and covers his mouth once more. These men are doing awful things to him.]

[ Oh? Joshua notices it, too, and follows the glance Clive had given, only to find he'd given it to Luca. Oh. Is his brother sweet on him? The thought makes him smile. He will have to ask about that later on. It's... cute.

But Dion is addressing him, and he turns his attention back to their table. ]

Oh, I fear if I ate as Clive does, my stomach would ache something fierce. I would need to very quickly adjust my constitution, I'm afraid.

[ And his curse, but... Now is not the time for that.

But then Dion just... goes for it, and for a moment, Joshua is dumbstruck. Granted, he doesn't know Dion terribly well yet on a personal level, but he never would have expected the man to do something like this.

It's this combination of absurdity and - quite likely the largest offender - the drink in his body that makes him laugh a bit louder than just the usual soft, polite chuckles. ]

[ There's a little tension there now. No anger but there is something settling into Clive's shoulders and he looks away. His smile is just a touch more fake now too, the smile he uses when he's Cid. He knows the ribbing is in good-nature, Dion testing what boundaries exist if any do, but not even Gav would push so. And to have Joshua jump in on top. He raises his hand when his brother laughs, his voice soft finally. Not scolding but in that tone that says just a step too far. ]

All right.

[ But his look is still friendly, still relaxed. It's his fault for not speaking up sooner. ]

It's a bad habit I picked up during my stay with the Empire. I'm still trying to break it.

[ It's all he'll say. Joshua wasn't too wrong about the bowl running away bit. His brother already knew about how they were oft left to fend for themselves come food. Eating swiftly, aggressively, meant you got your share when you were handed it. ]

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