sticksandbones | EVENT 021

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EVENT 021

Solitary Voyage

The first light of dawn does not come this morning. The moonlight outside continues to cast its muted glow over the Grove, still high in the sky. No matter how long you wait, no matter how many minutes or hours slip by, the darkness remains, and the silvery sentinel refuses to yield to the sun. It also appears bigger than usual, its surface etched with shadows that seem to pulse with a life of their own, and you swear there weren't this many stars peppering the night sky last night.

Despite the oppressive night that looms above, there’s an odd sense of calm. No werewolves prowl the streets, no ominous howls echo through the trees, or other dangers that usually seem to threaten the Grove. In fact, it's not making it more cold than usual, either. The ice on the river, once a solid barrier, begins to chip away, revealing glimmers of water beneath, giving new life to the creatures that call it home. A handful of the baby Seaborn even flop out of the water to explore the world, as if it's entirely new to them and hasn't only been a month since they've been unable to be on solid ground.

The only thing that the perpetual night seems to be affecting is the local wildlife. Disoriented and confused, they flit about in a daze, their natural rhythms thrown into chaos. The diurnal creatures now wander aimlessly with their instincts dulled. Someone should probably feed these poor critters before they forget how to forage for themselves.

The Grove also seems to be sans one sea jelly. Hope no one booked their therapy appointment this month.

The Reef is Immortal

It was the loud creaking that caught your attention first, a sound that reverberated through the ground like the groan of a ship caught in a storm. There's a... tree? Or, wait, no. That can't be right. It's colossal, easily taller than the supposed "limit" of the sky barrier, but it's also... blue? There's a smattering of bioluminescent patches that give a white glow, especially under the pale moonlight. The "branches" swayed unnaturally, each one moving independently, like a thousand skeletal fingers reaching for the heavens.

With the coming of this "tree" also comes something some of you may be familiar with - the Nethersea Brand. It's a blue, web-like membrane that more resembles flesh than what anyone would like to admit. Contact with the membrane is not recommended as it invokes a creeping dread that gnaws at the edges of your mind and locks your muscles and bones. It wears off... eventually, but if you don't get out of it in time it'll continue to chew at your nervous system.

It is not localized like it was last time, either. It spreads and expands to cover all of the Grove more and more with each moment, every hour swallowing more and more land, with just a few exceptions. One, the Inn's lobby, which is protected by the Inquistion's Fireplace inside. And two... surprisingly, the River and its banks, where the Guardians (and the Behemoth) seem to be taking solace from the threat.

The baby Seaborn are not aware of many things, but they are at least cognizant that some of you don't seem to do well in the Brand, with some control over what it covers. If you're by the river, they seem to be able to control the brand just enough to free you, chirping in an innocent manner. You do not know what they are saying, but you can imagine it's something along the lines of "Hi! What doing!" There's less of them in the river currently, but the few that are around are nesting on Moder or following Sinann around. They do not sense the distress. They are just babies.

The Mass of Sorrow

The sensation of being trapped in the web-like brand is suffocating, a foreign sensation of the boundaries that have been blurred between your identity and the collective consciousness of others. Each time you succumb to the nervous impairment, it feels like you’re slipping through a veil, where the lines between your thoughts and those of others dissolve into a swirling mass of emotions and memories.

You can’t shake the feeling of grief that lingers in your chest, a weight that seems to grow heavier with each passing moment. It’s as if you’re mourning something you can’t quite grasp—perhaps the remnants of your own past, or the fragments of lives that are not your own. When you finally come to again, rising up from the brand to attempt to move again, you'll notice you have tear stains against your face you don't remember crying.

It's not easy to escape the brand, either. Between the rough terrain flesh-y webs make and the way it slowly neutralizes your nerves, it's a wonder you can keep moving at all. But more than that, there's this... voice...

"Embrace... Our Warmth..."

In short moments of clarity, you remember... dreaming? Remembering? Commiserating...? Something. Whatever the case, you were in someone's mind. Maybe your own. Maybe someone else's. Maybe even something from the forest - the brand is taking all prisoner, after all.

Best hope We Many doesn't share anything you don't want anyone to see, because it doesn't seem like you get much of a choice.

Elegy of the Outliers

Those holed up inside are not entirely forgotten. While the warmth of the fireplace and the kin of the river may keep the brand at bay, the persistent weight of grief and sadness still reaches those within. It is the curse of an ancient being long gone, a sorrow that lingers like a scar. Yet, this sorrow can be softened by the company of those around you. Distractions, warmth, and togetherness serve as reminders that collaboration is, as always, the answer.

Gazing out at the brand, one will notice shadows moving along the fleshy web—shadows that seem hauntingly familiar. Loved ones move through the Grove as if it has come alive again, as if the threat of an obsessed, fallen deity has vanished, and things have reached some form of normalcy once again.

Upon closer inspection, the observant may discern that these are not true apparitions, but rather the brand's way of storing memories within We Many's consciousness. It is a surreal experience, reliving moments through the Seaborn that drift freely about. This phenomenon is both unsettling and captivating—perhaps it could even make for compelling television while you remain trapped inside. Yet, the sight of a loved one, even as a mere shadow, may also be overwhelming, pulling you away from your current sanctuary.

Be careful out there.

Spark Notes

summary

Solitary Voyage is this moon's journey. The expected dawn fails to arrive, leaving the Grove shrouded in an unusual, persistent moonlight. While the darkness disrupts the local wildlife, causing confusion and disorientation, it also brings life to the river as baby Seaborn venture out.

The Reef is Immortal, bringing forth a colossal, bioluminescent "tree" in the Grove, accompanied by the spreading menace of the Nethersea Brand, a blue, web-like membrane that induces paralysis upon contact. While the Brand expands across the land, the Inn's lobby remains safe, and the baby Seaborn near the river seem to possess a surprising ability to help free those ensnared by the Brand, blissfully unaware of the surrounding danger.

The Mass of Sorrow is the experience of being ensnared in the Nethersea Brand. Personal identity blurs with the collective consciousness, leading to overwhelming grief and confusion as emotions and memories intertwine.

Elegy of the Outliers, or those sheltered from the Nethersea Brand, still feel the Arbor's weight of grief and sadness, a lingering curse that can be eased by the warmth and companionship of others. As shadows resembling loved ones move through the brand, it becomes clear that these are not true apparitions but memories stored within We Many's consciousness.

out of character

This month's event has been written entirely by Rubie! Please be nice and say thank you Rubie! Enjoy your memory shares and your eldritch horrors, and remember that questions asked should be asked in public channels and not DMs if they're related to this month's event. Have fun!

updates

Any potential updates, such as characters damaging something important or whatever else, will be put here.

submissions

❖ Questions
❖ February Plotting
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations

code

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[...]

No, um... tea... tea is fine. You don't have to, I'm really just...

[He swallows thickly, then exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding.]

...just avoiding home. That's all.

[Tea it is, then. Wolfwood will get that started, letting the teakettle boil on the stovetop first while he grabs one of their various tea blends from the upper cabinets.]

Yeah. I get it.

[If this were current-day Wolfwood, he would have said something along the lines of "finally found out your mom was runnin' a cult?", but this version knows that's pretty harsh...so he'll say something else instead.]

Sudden decision, or...?

...kind of. She's, um...

[He wrings his hands together between his knees, picking at his nails, the edges of his coat sleeves, and eventually his jeans.]

...you know. She doesn't like people like you and your husband. Uh... people like us, I guess.

[Wolfwood raises his brows past his hairline, looking over at the back of Ain's head.]

Oh?

[It was quiet, but he did hear that. Mm...]

People like us, huh...

[Somehow, given the way Ain's been acting, he had a feeling.]

I'm guessin' you ain't become a smoker overnight, so that's not it.

Haha... I kind of wish, but something like that would mess up my lungs, and then I couldn't sing anymore.

[Music is sort of the only thing he has right now; that's why he's here with his guitar and nothing else. There's sheet music crammed into the case underneath the instrument itself, and a single pen in his jacket. No money, no way to really leave the Grove. He's debating if he wants to attempt walking back to Roseroot or not.]

No, I'm... I like...I probably am gay...

[Wolfwood is still moving around in the kitchen, and now that the water has boiled, he'll pour it into a mug with a teabag, plop some sugar in, and then bring it over to the livingroom for Ain, setting it on the table in front of him.

And as he does, he'll say bluntly:]

Ain't nothin' wrong with that. And I ain't just sayin' that cause I'm gay.

[He'll walk around the table, then, and take a heavy seat on the couch across from him.]

If you're worried 'bout what God thinks, the real God would love you no matter what. Don't matter if you're gay.

[Ain watches the steam rise from the mug for a quiet minute, listening to Nick — the guy who he's been a real dick to, scorning him in public and deriding him for marrying Asher, who's not only A Man but also covered in tattoos and piercings and has troubles with law enforcement — try to comfort him. And that, that right there, is what causes him to break down into quiet sobs with his head hidden behind his hands.

God, he wishes he could get it together. His mom has him so downright miserable that sometimes he wishes there was no holy power so that he could die and say "haha" in the end.]

S-sorry, I... I'm sorry. I-I don't know if that's t-true...

[Ain breaks down, and suddenly Nick doesn't really feel like delivering any kind of karma or justice to Ain anymore, who clearly is being served a healthy heaping of humble pie just through existing, right now. He's coming to terms with the fact that he was lashing out due to a combination of his mother's influence and internalized-homophobia, and it's not like Nick isn't intimately aware of what that's like. He's been in that position before, except he eventually solved that problem by just marrying the guy he was having beef with constantly.

He rests his hands on his knees, looking sidelong at Ain as he cries. Then, after a moment, he'll reach forward to grab a box of tissues from the table in front of them, placing them on the couch between them next to where Ain sits.]

I ain't askin' you to believe it. Whether or not you do is between you and God. But that's what I believe.

[...]

I know you're havin' a hard time, and nobody should hafta feel like they don't deserve t'be here.

S'long as you'll behave, you can stay here as long as you need to.

[Ain is going to very politely dab his eyes with the tissue and then sob into it a second later. God, he is struggling. He's usually one to compartmentalize, but lately it's too much. Between his mom and brothers reminding him that he can't be one of the "others", between Ain leaving to spend time with people she doesn't approve of like Livio and Ezell, between the looks Aldric gives the woman and the way he's sympathetic to Ain...

Yeah, there's a breaking point in there, and he's finally met it.]

M'not gonna say anything, [sniffles,] I'm really not. I'm trying, I've been trying for years to apologise. It's fine if you don't wanna see that, I don't blame you. I'm not gonna stay for long.

I know...I know.

[Nick frowns, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He figures that when he explains to Asher what's going on, he'll be fine with Ain staying, too. The kids, well...they're all as sweet as pie, so they're going to do everything they can to make him feel welcome for however long he stays. Maybe Ain will be able to get some much needed therapy with the garden and the chickens they're going to soon have.]

You really can only be blamed for so much when your family is shitty.

[And no he will not apologize for saying that, Ain's mother can go get fucked for all he cares.]

Here. Take the blanket on the back of the couch. [He mutters, moving to stand.] M'gonna grab some stuff to make a bed for you here.

[Truly Ain is going to find comfort in people like Alexi (terrible idea) and Livio (this is a good idea) and probably go be a creature on Percival's couch like "Peepaw I'm sad all the time" and swim in the river and die. That's what will happen he thinks. Or maybe he really will try to walk back to Roseroot with not a penny to his name.

Ugh.

The full mental breakdown is approaching rapidly. No, it was not already here, why do you ask? As soon as it begins, Ain folds it up into a box, crams all the stray cloth and worn strings of the tapestry into it with his fists until it's a wrinkled, unintelligible mess. Then, he closes the lid on it, and flops down on the sofa underneath the real blanket Nick told him to take.

He's too young to feel like his entire world is going to end, and yet here he is.]

Don't gotta, [he mutters weakly,] I don't wanna be a burden.

That's a nice sentiment, but you're here and I ain't takin' no for an answer.

[Nick calls from wherever he is in the hallway, likely in a linen closet given how muffled he sounds. He'll return a moment later with an extra blanket and a pillow that he hands to Ain, clean and smelling like it was just freshly washed.]

Here. If you think you might wanna nap, I'll make sure the kids are quiet when they come in.

[Ain will take them, tentatively, and curl up with them and sort of just... look despondent. What else is he supposed to do?

He mutters under his breath:]

Kinda wanna be dead, actually...

[And then he huffs and pulls the blankets up over his head. Don't look at him.]

I don't mind if the kids are loud, [he adds, not muttering this time,] if I fall asleep, I'll sleep through it. It's not my house, so.

[Wolfwood heaves a deep sigh, watching as Ain burrows himself in the blankets in an attempt to disappear. Muttered or not, Wolfwood definitely is pretty sure he heard that.]

...listen. I know shit feels real bad, right now. I've been where you are, believe me. S'gonna suck for a while.

But it'll get easier. Surround yourself with people who understand you. Start from there. You'll see.

Mm...

[Ain pokes his head out over the top of the blankets, eyes on Wolfwood. He's still speaking with his mouth under them, but at least he annunciates clearly.]

I know I'm... I've been really awful to you guys. Um... but you sound like you understand, so.

You don't have to be my friend or anything, especially since I'm way younger than you, but... if you could just be there, like you said, that would make me feel less alone.

Mm...I will be. Me n' Asher don't take shit layin' down, so if anybody comes at you for bein' who you are, come to us. We'll set 'em straight.

[Wolfwood WILL kick ass for this baby gay.]

Okay...

[Ain sniffles and re-buries himself, letting the blankets steal him away and abandoning the tea. He'll drink it in a bit when he stops crying.

...

Outside in the Grove, the memory ends, and Ain snaps to consciousness with his mind feeling blurry as he tries to pull himself from the Brand.]

[In a similar vein, Wolfwood is freed from the memory and rocketed back to reality, and it feels...bad. Bad, moreso for Ain than anything else. There's...plenty else for Wolfwood to unpack about that memory, but that will come when he and Flamebringer inevitably can no longer avoid each other about it anymore.

Ain, though. Wolfwood's going to have to find him.]

[Ain can be found stuck to the fucking ground outside the inn. Did he chase the apparitions of his friends into this shit? Yes he sure did.]

[Ain...well fortunately, Wolfwood is able to find him before any serious damage occurs thanks to the Brand, carefully stepping his way around it as much as he can before grabbing Ain beneath the arms so he can heft him from the stuff.]

Ain, fuck- you alright?

Mm... as okay as I'm gonna be...

[When he's hoisted, he will shake himself off and float into the air above it, then scoop Wolfwood so that he doesn't go down again.

The apparitions of his friends are still out there, walking closer, following after them. Ain bites the inside of his cheek.]

[Yeaaaah...Wolfwood's expression is. A little hard to read as they help each other out of the Brand, and then once they're both properly standing Wolfwood will reach for Ain's hand, even as the apparitions of his friends approach.]

...we should get inside.

[Sad little bug noises :( ]

Okay.

[Reluctantly... Ain will float off toward "inside", which is the inn due to Brand Reasons on the bakery. They're going right for his old room, where Ain will flop down on the bed and curl up into a little ball.]

Sorry... that you had to see me die, haha. And sorry for crying on your past-life couch. ...not sorry for riding you in the back of the car-thingy though.

[AIN]

You wanna know what's messed up? ...Mr. Flirtatious killed me in the past.

...

That was nice, I guess. [lying lying lying]

[Haha...

Ain flops down and curls up, which prompts Wolfwood to carefully shuffle his way over, his prosthetic leg dragging a bit as he sits down beside him. He'll wait a moment before he very gently lays a hand against Ain's back between his shoulders, rubbing in a slow, small circle.]

What are you apologizin' for...

[He mutters, his tail lifting up onto the bed so it, too, can fold itself over Ain in a way he hopes is comforting.

He comments that "Mr. Flirtatious" killed him and that was nice, and it immediately prompts a low hiss of a sound from Wolfwood.]

That is messed up. Not nice.

[Flops his head into Wolfwood's lap like a sad dog.]

It was sarcasm. I'm sad. [Yeah...] Oh, but I kissed Livio in the past! That was nice...

[He is flattening himself into Wolfwood's lap as they speak.]

...my mom and Mr. Flirtatious teamed up to sacrifice me to the monsters in the forest, though. I dunno.

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lupusxylem - 2025-03-13 20:56 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT 021

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cw suicidal ideation

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i figure we are. good Enough to go on now-

YAA

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