TDM #1

[rhodosmods]

TDM #1: AUGUST

Jump to: Arrival · Sound and Light · Into the Fog · Waking Up to a Nightmare · The Bonfire
Summary · Questions

I. ARRIVAL

Upon arrival, characters awaken in one of the main plazas of the town, lying on the paving stones around a central fountain. It is a bright sunny day and very hot, so you'll quickly want to find some shade. A light breeze brings the scent of the sea, but there are no cries of sea birds to be heard.

The buildings of the plaza are all medieval stone construction, but they all have modern awnings and glass fronts. Tables out front display tourist wares: little plastic statuettes, postcards, t-shirts. Among these, it's easy to identify Greek lettering, Greek gods, photos of Athens and Crete. Predominant among the souvenirs are items marked with the name Rhodos.

But there are no vendors selling their wares. Even if characters wander into the shops, they are all empty as if their owners just stepped away for a moment. Lights are on, and some of the larger and nicer shops even have the whirr of air conditioning. Food stands waft the aroma of freshly grilled kebabs, and a gelato cart is cold to the touch and the ice cream inside is frosty and delicious.

The plaza where you arrive is set on a slope, and the direction of the sea breeze and the faint sound of waves against a shore indicates pretty strongly that down-slope is the direction of the sea. But looking down the slope from the main plaza, you can see an open archway in a tall stone wall, and beyond it is nothing but mist. Despite the clear sunny day in the plaza, the mist is a dense fog with barely three feet of visibility. If you enter it, you can see your own arms in front of you, but nothing beyond that. The breeze has gone still and the waves no longer sound so much like waves--the sound is warped through the mist so that it almost sounds like sobbing. After about five minutes of determined walking across what feels like flat ground with no other landmarks, you find yourself back at the archway.

Housing can easily be scavenged. Doors are unlocked and the interiors are clean and welcoming, beds freshly made, as if it is a hotel that's been prepared for you rather than anyone's personal residence. And yet, once you've settled upon a place to live, you start to find little signs that you have lived here all along. The photographs on the wall (which weren't there when you first arrived) depict you and your family and friends, even if you came from a world without photography. Upon arrival, you have only the clothing you are wearing, but within a day the closet begins to fill with familiar outfits from home, and within the first week you may find up to five of your own possessions around your new residence.

Note: Wardrobe is limited to what you can reasonably fit inside a non-walk-in apartment closet, what your character would reasonably wear and possess in canon, or what can be scavenged around town. There are two very small clothing boutiques where you can find most basics and a few cute outfits. For starting possessions two may be weapons or magical items, but you may have an additional three mundane items. All other personal items can only be obtained through regains or events.

II. SOUND AND LIGHT

The first few days in your new home are relatively uneventful. The days are hot and sunny and the nights are warm beneath a dazzling starry sky.

After not quite a week, the noises of a spectacle will lead characters to a small gate in one of the outer walls with steps leading down into the outer moat. The fog surrounding the city walls has drawn back for just this one little area, revealing an open air theater butting up against the castle wall. A path leads away from the theater on either side, but if you walk into the mist on either side you will promptly find yourself walking out of the mist on the opposite side, as if you'd circumnavigated the entire moat in just a few steps. Behind the theater is another high stone wall. Centuries of weathering has added rough footholds and handholds, but it would be a dangerous climb without equipment. Trees grow from the top of the wall, sticking limbs out of the wall of mist and clawing roots into the stones at the top, loosening them so that they're ready to slip at a touch.

The play that is projected onto the wall features shadow puppets, colored lights, and canned soundtrack special effects like the clop of horses hooves or the burst of trumpets. There is no dialogue or narration, so the story can only be roughly pieced together: there is a king and a queen, then a betrayal that leads to the king's murder. Later, the king and the queen appear again, participating in a ritual which seems to involve human sacrifice, a war and a triumphal procession, and then another betrayal and the king is murdered again.

The story repeats three times every night before shutting itself off. The first performance starts at twilight, and each repetition lasts about twenty minutes. Characters who watch it repeatedly will get the sense that it's slightly different each time, but the whole thing is complicated and confusing without any narration or dialogue to provide context, so characters will struggle to pin down how it's different. A slide projector is set up at the top of the amphitheater, with a pair of old speakers on either side of it. If slides are removed from the projector, they show only blank, uncolored plastic. If something is placed in front of the projector light, the scene is projected onto that object. The projector can be turned off, unplugged, or smashed. No matter what is done to it, as soon as no one is actively watching it, it is restored to an undamaged status and resumes playing.

After watching an entire repetition of the performance, some characters may be overcome by a fit of weeping. Tears roll down your cheeks and you can't seem to catch your breath. Despair clutches at your heart, colored by your own personal sorrows, and the weeping can only be stopped by receiving an embrace.

Others may find that the performance inspires them to reminisce. No matter how secretive you might normally be, you find yourself turning to whoever is sitting near you and telling them a story from your past, something that makes you nostalgic or regretful.

III. INTO THE FOG

CONTENT WARNING: Cruelty and violence against (monster) dogs

After the characters have been in Rhodos for about three weeks, a heavy fog rolls into town. Unlike the mist that surrounds the city, the fog smells of smoke. Visibility is reduced to a mere ten or fifteen feet.

The electricity goes out, and shops are no longer replenished. Food may still be scavenged, but the food in shops and restaurants will slowly rot and may run out. Battery operated items will continue to work as long as the batteries still have a charge. Running water inside the houses continues to work, but it is sluggish and smells stale, leaving an unpleasant film on the skin.

While out on the streets of the town, characters will begin to encounter the monster dogs of Rhodos. The sound of a dragging chain precedes them, and then the hazy outline of a dog comes into view. It's walking oddly, however, with a sort of staggering limp, and the sound of the chain is underlaid by a low, feral growl. Furless gray skin peels away in patches to reveal bloody muscle. The heavy iron collar around the neck is studded with long black screws, the ends of which pierce the skin of the neck. Hazy eyes are clouded with decomposition, and yet that doesn't seem to prevent the dog from making its way straight toward you.

The dogs are not very fast, nor very smart. They can be outpaced at a brisk walk, and they will lose track of any character who gets more than twenty feet away or behind a closed door. But they are vicious. If you get within a few feet, they will lunge at you and attempt to bite. If two or three of them manage to corner you in a blind alley, you could be in real trouble.

In addition to the dogs, characters will begin to catch glimpses of Manifestations, both their own or those of others. At first you might just catch a glimpse of them through a break in the fog, but after a day or two they can be spotted standing outside of apartment windows and staring in. In either case, they will not approach or attack characters unless you're foolish enough to get within six feet of them. Then, they will attack, and they will pursue at a fast walk until they lose track of you in the fog.

IV. WAKING UP TO A NIGHTMARE

CONTENT WARNING: Blood imagery

On the 28th, characters are awakened by the sound of their front doors being smashed in. It's your own smashing door that awakens you, but you can hear more distant sounds of destruction from the other apartments nearby.

As you scramble out of your bed, you find that the homey, quilted bedding has been soaked through with blood, and it's sagging in the middle with the outline of a human body. But before you have a chance to properly react to that horror, your Manifestation is coming through your bedroom door — more than one of them, if you were sharing that bed with anyone.

You will have to fight or dodge in order to get out of the room. Your Manifestation is out for your blood. You can do damage to it, creating deep wounds and heavy bruises, causing it to stagger and slow for a moment, but no matter how much damage you do it keeps coming for you. Sooner or later, you will need to run.

When you make it out into the streets, you'll find that the entire world has changed. Heavy darkness fills the city, and no stars are visible in the sky. A few lights glow despite the lack of electricity, but they only provide a sickly, red-tinted light. Streets are slick with something that looks like blood, and the stone walls in many places have been transformed into metal or grate. Through the grate, you can catch glimpses of black metal hooks and gory, dripping meat that looks human in origin.

There is no palatable food or water. Anything you have saved has rotted or changed unnaturally into what looks like rotting flesh or lumps of bile. Liquid has turned into blood or black water. The only mercy is that symptoms of hunger, thirst and fatigue stabilize after 24 hours and don't get any worse. Don't worry, it won't be the dehydration that kills you here.

Your Manifestation pursues you tirelessly, and the monster dogs are faster, smarter, and moving in packs. Your home is no longer safe, and staying on the streets is deadly.

V. THE BONFIRE

CONTENT WARNING: Body horror, immolation

Sooner or later, you find your way to the bonfire in the middle of the fountain square. There is no longer water in the fountain. Instead, the whole thing towers with flame, fueled by a viscous black substance in the basin.

A tall man stands by the fountain, gazing into the flames as if he is supervising. His suit is true black, fathomless black, while his skin is a dark red-black like the newly formed crust upon a lava flow. His eyes are black pools reflecting the flames. He takes no interest in any approaching characters, and will not respond to any questions. The only thing that will draw his attention to you is an attempted attack. If you try it, your blow lands, but he doesn't seem to take any damage. His head turns toward you and he considers you for a moment, as if he finds it intriguing that you would attempt such a thing. Then he returns his attention to the fire.

The dogs and the Manifestations will not pursue you into the circle of light cast by the bonfire. You can find a sort of respite here.

Time passes. It feels like days, though there is no way to mark the passage of time. The Dark Figure continues to supervise the bonfire.

At last, your attention is drawn to a sort of commotion approaching down one of the main streets that feeds into the plaza. You hear a rattling of metal, and a sort of gibbering moan. The bonfire illuminates first upon a pale, faceless figure which seems to writhe as it approaches, hovering above the paving stones. As it grows closer, you see that the figure is lashed to a square metal frame and bound with strips of barbed wire. Veiled figures on either side bear it forward, and the Dark Figure turns to watch it approach.

The figure upon the frame has no face and no mouth with which to make its agonized moans, but it continues nonetheless. It has limbs but no hands or feet, each limb ending in smooth stumps.

If no one interferes, the Handmaidens carry the frame forward and place it upon the fire.

The Handmaidens can be attacked, and hurt. They cry out indignantly at any attack, and recoil. They will not fight back, but they also will not be discouraged from their task by anything less than persistent violence.

If the pale figure on the frame is rescued by the player characters, it flails and gibbers helplessly, continuing to moan. If the pale figure is consigned to the flames, it begins to scream, and continues screaming for several minutes until the flame finally overcomes it.

In either situation, you begin to cough. Blood spills from your mouth, dribbling down your chin and spattering upon your clothing. But then the droplets begin to slither into letters, forming words that spell out your deepest guilt, in the words you yourself would use to describe it. No attempt to wipe the words away or cover them will prevent their legibility. The blood shines through whatever covers it, catching the firelight so that those around you can clearly read the words.

The Dark Figure and his Handmaidens made their exit while you were coughing. You are left alone with the other Tourists around you, your guilt, and whatever remains of the pale figure upon the frame.

SUMMARY

Arrival: August 1
Sound and Light: August 5-20
Into the Fog: August 21-27
Waking Up to a Nightmare: August 28-30
The Bonfire: August 31

Welcome to Rhodos! Going forward, events will take place in two parts. The Normal World part of the event posted on the 5th of each month, and it will be a lighter event both in terms of length and thematic content. TDMs will be bi-monthly and will feature an event element or elements for the Normal World which in-game characters may also play with on their own log posts. The sections on Fog and Nightmare worlds for the TDM will generally be the same every month, allowing players to test drive those elements if they'd like, but not including spoilers for the second part of that month's event. The second part of the event will be posted on the 20th of each month, covering events occurring through both the Fog and Nightmare cycles.

Test drive memes are considered game canon.

This won't always be the case, but for the nerds among you who are enjoying this sometimes-accurate tour of Rhodes, all location images in this TDM and housing are accurate to Rhodes.

Lastly, we are in need of mods! We're most in need of help for processing apps and activity. If we aren't able to get some additional mods, we will have to place a cap on applications, and we're hoping we won't have to do that. If you're interested, please send us a message over on the mod contact page. We've gotten the mod volunteers we needed so we should be all clear to proceed without an applications cap. Thank you to everyone who showed interest!

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Comments

[warbeast]

[ at the statement of gilia's bafflement at the impossible images far more precise than any stroke of any brush, asura nods in agreement and understanding. he hunches over himself, listening to her pad through the small dwelling. his skin prickles with paranoia is is long-accustomed to, the order of the world he was born into one where the strong relentlessly and apologetically stomps out the weak. those in power ebb and flow, shift from one set of tyrants to another, but the core principles remain the same.

this woman is a stranger, and he does not underestimate opponents for their appearance. was amaterasu not a woman? and so asura does not discount gilia as an enemy, but—with some confusion—he finds he does not care. he is tired. this is not his world. his room is covered in pictures of a man he has not seen in an age. he has searched the skies here a thousand times over and he cannot find the celestial realm, cannot feel taishakuten's cold, merciless divinity.

what does it matter now? what does anything matter now?

the woman leaves and she returns, bearing fire. the light seeps in between his fingers, and he is about to lower his hands when her touch presses over his fingers. asura can't remember the last time a hand reached out to him in anything but violence. it would've been taishakuten, but he can't remember the day leading up to their fight. he can't recall if taishakuten helped him up from bed that morning, can't remember if he laid a hand on asura's shoulder to calm him. all those reflexive, everyday touches escape his memory because he did not know then that they were coming to an end.

drawing in a sharp breath, he brings his hands down again but slowly, giving her the space to pull her hand back while trying not to jostle it away himself. he would not want to rebuke her, but he is so unused to being careful with his touch. it is a clumsy effort, but he manages, and his hands come to a rest somewhere above his knees.

she is kind, he notes. patient with a rude, possibly violent stranger, a lower class brute with no manners and even less modesty. asura knows who and what he is, and he is unused to this kind of grace. she has a level head on her shoulders as well, her emotions anchored, each movement and word purposeful. a rare good fortune, to have come to her door and not another. ]

Gilia, [ he repeats, nodding. he sits up a little straighter, watching her in the dancing candlelight, studying her delicate, foreign features.

the observation catches him off-guard but does not manage to surprise him. he has assessed her as someone clever enough to be dangerous should she choose. asura does not understand the distinction between emotional and intellectual intelligence as he has neither, he is only certain that she possesses what he does not.

the question that follows, well. asura blinks, a pinched expression coming over his face as his brow furrows. does he want to tell her...? about taishakuten? strange that she does not simply ask, as who would not want to know what would drive a man to force his way into their home? but she asks if he wants to tell her, and—

he has not even begun to consider that. it's not a question he would have ever asked himself, whether or not he wants to talk about what happened with taishakuten. he never needed to. the whispered rumors dogged his every step. he doesn't... not want to, here in this quiet place with its gentle firelight and even gentler host. but then comes the second issue.

every time asura needs it most, his words fail him. he is no great orator. he is a weapon and taishakuten the scholar.

he stares at gilia, lost, for far too long, then clears his throat. ]

I had a friend, [ he explains poorly, with a helpless shrug of his broad shoulders. ]

[seaboard]

[ She has always been patient by nature and having children had made her even more so. If anything had made her a good ruler, she supposed, it was this patience to wait until all was said and done.

That usually she had been too still to ever act on her thoughts, was perhaps her greatest downfall as one, too.

But right now? It seems to be what he needs most. That quiet. That stillness. There is an issue of impropriety, of course. She is a married woman, and he is neither her husband nor soon-to-be wife. He is mostly undressed and these are her chambers and there is not a maid to chaperone them.

And she does the unthinkable, naturally, if anyone was to care: that once he settles himself, she moves beside him. Sweeping her nightgown and loose wrap underneath her as she settles with him. The outside of her leg to his. Sweeping the thick of her long braid over her shoulder out of the way. Then she reaches for that hand, and without gripping tightly, she guides it to her lap. Letting it sit between her own, and begins to brush her fingers back and forth over the back of his knuckles. ]

A friend. [ she repeats. waits. he does not go further and... yes, yes, this is familiar. Grief turned people's tongues thick. It needed prompting to find the truth of what was truly wrong, often enough. ] I will ask you questions, and you need only shake or nod your head for yes and no if you wish.

[ If words fail, they will start small until he can find his way back. ] Did they hurt you?

[warbeast]

[ asura does not possess gilia's sense of propriety, though it is not lost on him that misunderstandings could certainly come from being found in her bed, his hand clutched in her own. however, he does not begin to care enough to disengage. anyone who might speak poorly of her for it would soon find themselves without tongues.

she certainly has a way about her, he can't help but think as he grips her hand in return. there's an irrepressible nature about her, one who sees solutions where others might only see walls. asura finds himself startled again as she so seamlessly shifts to guiding him through that which he does not know how to speak. her method sounds like an effective one, but he barely has time to nod in acquiesce when her first question once more knocks the air out of his lungs.

has he felt on balance even once since she started speaking? it is not a condemnation, just the opposite.

the question itself makes him laugh. did they hurt you? it's a disjointed, rasping noise, laughter that is torn from his lungs on meat hooks, bloody. asura has always been a wounded creature, tormented and reviled, but taishakuten hurt him in ways he hadn't known possible. ]

He killed me, [ comes the reply, more than a nod yet somehow still very little information. asura pauses a moment to think, to try to put his heartbreak and fury into words. ]

Worse, [ he adds, voice rough with grief, ] he killed the person he used to be.

[seaboard]

[ She is shocked at that, both his laughter and his words that follow. Her eyes wide a moment to hear it said so. So plainly. But he seems a rather straightforward sort of person. The kind of person her mother would have liked. The one who wears things plainly. Boldly.

But she schools her face again. Swallowing on anything that might upset him, and nods back, listening. The inhale and exhale as she goes back to keeping the same gentle, caring touch. Back and forth, back and forth. As he pieces it out, with an encouraging murmur. ]

And... it hurts you now, to see him at all? [ A frown. Perhaps... not that... ] Or... that you remember who he was and miss that person?

[warbeast]

[ this is more self-reflection than asura has done in his entire life, possibly combined. he's not one to stop and think about why things are or even identify what he feels. there are only ever the broad strokes of it. pain. anger. grief. peace. pride. he does not bother with the nuances, simply feels his emotions and moves on, lets them flow through him like floodwaters until they recede.

he should leave. storm back out as he swept in, the sole question he came for answered. the steady caress of her hand on his keeps him still.

turning his gaze up, he stares into the ceiling, at what lies above. where the celestials would be, if he were still in the abyss.

it hurts because he was not ready to see taishakuten again. it hurts because taishakuten has always been like looking into the sun. it hurts because of what is yet to come. ]

I have to put him down. The thing he's become.

[seaboard]

[ She would be remiss if she let him tear back out into the night. This magnificent bird of prey, bold as an eagle, with his broken wing. No doubt, he will hurt her. They always did, these ones she found that needed help. But she doesn't let it stop her from trying, regardless, no matter how deep some of those scars ran. Or her better sense that beat its fists against her staying put.

Perhaps because... because what he says is too close. It's too familiar. Of being responsible in putting the one you care for that has so lost themselves, down. Her hands curl around him. Practise only that makes her stop her weeping in turn. It is too late for her. It may not be too late for him.

No one had ever held her for it. ]

... Is there no way... no way you can save him?

[warbeast]

[ gilia may as well have put a knife through his ribs herself than ask that question. asura has never been one to look back once he's decided on his course, and time has only shown him just how mistaken he was about taishakuten all along. the first betrayal had been pain enough, but all the things that followed...

asura would have forgiven his own death, but the suffering taishakuten had single-handedly brought upon their entire realm could not be ignored.

he gives a low, pained exhale, the hand in hers turning to clutch her fingers hard enough to bruise. he takes in a shaky breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and releases her. ]

You can't save people who don't want to be saved, [ he settles on, voice low. ] The man I thought I knew— Maybe he was never there.

[ he shakes his head and his hand finds hers again. he frowns at where her slender fingers rest against his broad palm, fingers closing around hers with the kind of nervous, focused care of a man trying to disarm a trap. ]

Tell me about your family.

[ it's not really a question, meant less to pry and more to signal that asura is done talking about taishakuten now. ]

[seaboard]

[ Ah.

She swallows. He will be like her, then. Another loved one put down your own hand. How it taught you to hate yourself, to the last. That it never left.

The deflection is obvious. He has talked about something painful, and he deserves a break, surely. Even if he will not find something happier there. Only a reflection of a story told through a different lens.

The spirits that rule this place must have known when they drove him to her door. Sent him wild into her rooms. Fickle things, always. Was it cruelty or kindness? ]

The painting is from when I was younger, much younger. [ She gestures up, to the image on the wall, of that sombre family. Of a woman, enthroned, with two men either side of her, and the children around her feet and fanning out, all six of them. Each of them with her same sharp blue eyes, the same eyes that looked at him as she spoke. ] That is my mother, in the middle, her name is Hildegard. My fathers, her husbands - Salvric and Alwin. My mother is the most fearsome woman of her age. She once made a seasoned General weep because he dared to speak impertinently in her presence.

[ A shadow that engulfed all her children. ]

There is Nikolai. He is our eldest brother, and you shall not find a wiser man. There is me, I was the first girl. [ There is no mistaking that head of blond curls that refused to stay contained in the photo. ] My sister Elspeth, she is beautiful and as she is fierce, she loves to sail and would never return if no one made her. Farfalee came next. No one is quicker with kitchen knives as Farfalee. Then my youngest brother, Leif. He is so fiercely clever, he can tell you anything there is to know about anything. But he is kind too, even to me, his dullest sister who cannot keep up with him at all.

[ And she swallows, there, looking at the one she had left for last, though he was clearly supposed to be second in that list, next to Nikolai, the pair of them almost twins in their likeness. Black hair, that crook of their lips like something was secretly amusing.

The one whose singular portrait Asura had found and thrust at her that made her recoil.] ... and that is Godfinn. We liked to say that when he smiled, the whole world smiled with him, such was the joy he took in life.

[ If only they had known, if only. Or maybe they did, and it was she alone who never wanted to see. ]

... And we are the royal family. The Royal Family of St. Loe. [ There it was - in the end. That noose around every child's neck. Why that mother should be so fearsome, why they should not spare a smile even amongst so many children.

Where power was the rule of a family, what happiness could there be that lasts? ] I have a husband, and a wife, soon, and thre- two children of my own.

[warbeast]

[ asura, in spite of all appearances, proves an attentive audience. he listens and he absorbs, not an intellectual by any means, but he does pick up on what she does and does not say. nikolai is. godfinn was. a mother and two fathers. a husband and a wife. perhaps that is normal for royals, asura wouldn't know. he does not miss that she miscounts her children and can imagine only one reason why.

still, he does not comment, only nods.

royals. that sticks out to him the most.

are there such things as good nobles? he thought there was. he teased taishakuten of it often, and taishakuten would tease him back.

'i'll drink to my heart's content from the skulls of those nobles living in luxury.'

'i didn't realize you planned to kill me once you were done with me.'

now he can't be sure. but he reserves judgement for the moment, as she has been kind to him. he won't give anyone the opportunity to betray him like taishakuten did, nobility or not, so it's no matter. ]

Remembering is difficult for you, [ he comments, letting her speak as she likes. ]

[seaboard]

Power comes with responsibility. Choices to those that exchange their lives to your better judgement, and trust you to always rule well.

[ Is she holding his hand for his sake, or hers now? They stay there now, curling over them, her own warm, gentle. ]

We have to live with those choices. Whether we ever thought it was right or not.

[ She drops her gaze down to their joined fingers. Fiddling against the bumps of his knuckles, following the patterns there, all the little marks of this veritable stranger's life. ]

I hope you may strike him down quickly, for both your sakes. Your friend. When it comes to that. Godfinn... Godfinn did not die well. We had to break all his limbs, first, you see? He kept... kept trying to run and... and he screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. I was a girl, then. Not a few weeks past my seventeenth name day. I am a woman now, and ... I still hear him scream, every night. I do not know you, but I would spare you that if I could.

[warbeast]

[ asura has not previously considered exactly how taishakuten will die, so thanks for that, gilia— only accepted the simple inevitability of it. the idea of it makes his body tense, and for a few long seconds he does not breathe.

when air returns to his lungs in a tight inhale, he absently mimics the way she stroked his hand just earlier, mind a thousand miles away. ]

I already live with the death of someone I did not want to kill. I suspect adding another will be much the same.

[ it's not the truth, but it's also not exactly a lie. asura is not in the habit of lying. he simply can't face the cruelty of the truth here and so pushes past it. ]

What happened to your brother? [ he asks as he drags his mind away from the memory of his mother bleeding in his arms, smiling up at him, the vision blurring with the image of taishakuten in her stead. ] Why did it happen?

[seaboard]

He broke our oldest, first and most sacred law. He made war.

[ What else could deserve such a horrible fate, truly, than to cause others to die?

If she were telling this story for herself, it might be impossible. But to distract someone else? She can remove it from herself like the orators and history keepers told the stories of any great family. That too, is the cost. Just like her ancestors, one day, she supposes, they will rip apart the story of her life, and find her wanting too. They would have too, after what she had done. ]

It is a long thing to explain if you do not know about the Accords and the like... [ boring lessons of a childhood spent with tutors drilling her about this law and that and what way to greet each person and... ] ... but our ancestors agreed a long, long time ago, to never make war in exchange for perpetual and eternal peace. It meant, in turn, that we live frugally, and humbly.

... It... it never sat with him well. I think he was... hungry inside. He never seemed to... to have enough, when we were children. But as King, to want otherwise... he would have to abdicate, first. He decided to make another choice and broke every ancient law and pact that kept us safe. He went behind everyone's backs and... did the unthinkable.

[ And how well he had done it, how well he schemed. His brilliant mind and brilliant smile meant they had never know just how far it had run, how well planned that even after his death, it was an avalanche of acts that had finally exploded and -

... and she finished it. She has to swallow her own pain physically now. Shutting her eyes, evening her breathing forcefully. In, and then out, in and then out. Not daring to open her eyes until she knew she would not shake.

You are Second-Child, Gilia, the face of our people, don't you dare offer anything less than strength! ]

And for that suffering he brought to the world, it had to be repaid to him.

[warbeast]

[ it is a familiar story.

this, asura thinks to himself, this is what nobility does.

it sounds to him as though gilia's people have, had..?, have obtained what asura strives for his own people. for all to live as equals, for none to go without. for all to protect the sick, the the young, the old, the weak. what would he do to someone who shattered that hard-won dream?

taishakuten will pay with his life, but taishakuten did not break something they already had. he'd simply turned his back on what asura thought they both believed.

he feels no sympathy for gilia's brother, but it is plain to him that his fate hurts her. were he not staring down the face of a future where taishakuten broken body lies in his arms, he would struggle to understand how anyone could feel such sorrow for someone who brought so much evil upon the world.

but he is, and so the understanding comes. ]

I'm sorry he did not know better, [ asura finally offers. ] And I am sorry he broke your heart.

[seaboard]

I am sorry your friend broke yours.

[ She dearly wishes she could offer him some solace. Something that makes it better. Something that helped this pain go anywhere at all.

But she cannot. She has never learned to live with it, not well, regardless, to offer it to anyone else.

Especially when she surely shall be counted worse than even her brother, now. ]

... I cannot offer you much, I am sorry. But... if you find yourself unable to go back to those rooms, and see those images... you may stay here, if you wish? This bed is much to big for one person, and I confess I sleep badly all alone when I am used to having so many more about me all my life.

[ Royals did not have much in the way of privacy, but frankly, most common people shared only two or three rooms, truly. She had siblings, sometimes her husband, and usually a maid about - someone.

Not this silence of a empty city. ]

[warbeast]

[ the offer surprises him. he cannot imagine a single other soul that might offer it. but here is not there, he reminds himself. people have no reason to treat him as what he was, bereft of his power, his burdens, his cursed blood. that does not change how she is a noble born lady, and his experience tells him nobles scarcely like to share air with their lessers without some ulterior motive.

and yet it is kind and thoughtful of her to offer. he does not know what to make of her, only that he feels a rare sort of ease around her. her presence is calming, something he has seldom known.

...but there is, of course, the reality of the situation.

he glances at the bed, then to her, then gives a grimace. ]

I'm not a good bedmate. I don't sleep much to begin with. But I could stay a bit while you slept, if that would help.

[ he could... organize the kitchen or something. asura is surprisingly domestic when left to his own devices. ]

[seaboard]

[ There are concerns, of course, but he does not seem inclined to most of them.

She is not a young pretty maid, and he was in the throws of heartbreak, what interest could he have in seduction, to begin with? Besides, perhaps he was sudden and wild, but he did not seem so cruel as to want to take advantage of much of anyone, to begin with. Just... hurt, lost.

In need of simple kindness.

So she gives him a smile, little and brief. She would always give that it seemed, even when better sense said against it. ]

Because you have not had a good lullaby, I suspect. [ She does not actually think it will change much for his inclination to sleep. But young men always liked a challenge, and she wanted him not to feel pitied or lesser simply for taking comfort.

What matters most, is that he has somewhere he can go, that does not hurt him simply to be there. ] Come. It is the middle of the night, I cannot send you out, who knows if there are Spirits playing tricks? Even if you do not sleep, you can at least rest your body some. I know you must need it.

[ She rises up, detangling their fingers to go and straighten the bed from her own tossing and turning at night. Pulling back the blankets and got herself underneath them. Propped up against the headboard of the four-poster bed that at least was quite sturdy, and looking back up at him, she gestured for him to join her. ]

[warbeast]

[ asura cannot bring himself to rebuke her any more than he has, and upon her insistence he watches her move. sighing, he resigns himself to humor the woman, finding no harm in acquiesce because and harm short of her putting a knife between his ribs would be on him to cause. his spiritual essence has been dormant since his arrival here, his locus missing or dead. he's honestly not sure how he's still alive at all, except that he feels strangely mortal now.

regardless, the blood rage is unlikely to find him. should be safe enough to share her bed.

he barely wears clothes to begin with, but he does shed his robes so they don't get tangled in the night, draping it over the first piece of furniture within reach. he's not a particularly fastidious man. he then twists his hair into a tighter braid, pulling it over one shoulder much as she had done with hers just earlier, and ties it in place. ]

I'm really a poor bedmate, [ he warns one more time, but then flops down unceremoniously as bidden. he keeps himself atop the covers, unaccustomed to beds and blankets alike. he normally sleeps on bedrolls over hard ground or even sitting up wherever he happens to be. the softness of the mattress gets a wrinkle of his nose, but he settles himself in all the same.

and he stares at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his thigh. he makes an effort not to sleep in spite of her warm invitation, knowing well that he is a tumultuous sleeper even on his best nights, and on his worst...

a nightmare could well put gilia in danger. he would not like to risk that. ]

[seaboard]

You cannot frighten me, I promise.

[ She lowers her eyes as he sheds his robe. Not prying or peeking as he makes himself comfortable. Then pushes herself down until she's laying properly, curling onto her side.

It does not surprise her, particularly, that he doesn't seem quite sure what to do lying in a bed. The Deer-Striders often complained of the same, when they came to the isle for the first time. At least until they finally experienced winter and why it was not wise to not sleep outdoors or with little coverings. Why everyone should rug themselves tightly in many many layers. Though now she was have much the opposite problems. Every day here she felt she was going to melt away under the glare of the sun here.

So she tsks, watching him lay there like a stiff board. A little huff of laughter that is quiet, so quiet and she realises she cannot remember when she laughed at much of anything. It feels like a lost skill, and certainly, it rasps some. The scar on her throat had damaged her voice, torn at the only thing she ever had that was her own.

When he seems as settled as he is going to get, which seems barely at all. She curls a little closer, next to his shoulder - and fishes for a song she was still capable of. Not touching of course, not pushing anything but to lay there. Then she starts on the first note. The same kind of lullaby she has sung for her own children. Her own native tongue that she carves the words and tune with, high in her throat, but quiet because no longer could she carry the notes as she once did. ]

[warbeast]

[ the singing surprises him, enough that he gives a noticeable jolt where he lays. she is so tender with him, and he does not begin to understand why. he has given her nothing, offered her nothing. he could be any other man and she would not know the difference. she does not understand that there is a monster in her bed, a killer, a demon, a brute. he is tamed and tethered for the moment, but that may not hold true.

he can see how she could have come to be so tattered.

his eyes flutter shut as he listens to the foreign song, mind wandering back through the years. his mother once sang to him. he remembers how she held him, how she smelled of hearth and home. he can feel where she is turned towards him, so carefully maintaining propriety between them.

he has no time or patience for it. he sighs, heavily, and then he wordlessly thrusts his arm beneath her neck, around her shoulders, and pulls her to rest in against his chest. his eyes do not open, and he does not otherwise stir. ]

If you keep giving without taking anything in return, you'll disappear.

[ his breaths slow, tension ebbing out of his body with his next words. ]

You are safe with me, Gilia. I can't promise you'll always be safe from me, but you are safe with me.

Rest. And sing, if it pleases you. But rest.

[seaboard]

[ There is a little squeak as he pulls her over. Drags her in like a doll into his side. It flusters her - because simply put, no one, not even her husband, had ever dared or wanted this from her. She frightened him, for many reasons. He was never cruel, he had always been her friend, but he had never wanted to embrace her like this. Or she was the one doing this for her children when they crawled into bed beside her.

But it... it is... it is nice, is it not? Quite nice. Nothing so dreadful, the dull thud of his heart below her cheek. The soft warm scent. His arm strong and yes, undoubtedly, threatening is that surety in any other circumstances.

Though the guilt is there. He knows himself dangerous, but he does not know what he has cradled so warmly into his chest, either. This wretched body of hers, that she reflexively goes to cover her scar with her hair, so it does not peek out unsightly and drive him away. ]

You are safe with me too. You need never ask, if you wish to stay, it shall always be open to you.

[ And she dares to tuck herself more comfortably in, next to him. Her arm looped loosely over his waist, draping herself like a blanket, since he did not want one, around him. ]