event 003: the potions

[atonementmods]

Characters: All.

When: April 1st - 30th

Where: Various locations.

Warnings: None. Please put any warnings in the comment subject if it progresses that way!

The weather will continue to be Spring-like for the rest of this month, with the occasional storm or shower here and there. Once again, all citizen's will be alerted to go to the center of Penance to see about their punishment for the month of April!

As usual, a tent has been set up with plenty of food and drink set up on tables, with another one off to the corner containing letters addressed to each citizen, along with bottles of potion for each. Each person is invited to take a bottle and either drink it now, slip it to someone else, or saved it for later.

The effects are described as being random. The person who consumes the liquid may see the ghost of someone they've harmed in the past that will follow them around, screaming their sins to all around. It mayse severe, nearly deadly pain. It may take away one of the taker's senses, whether it's sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste, or even all of them.

If citizens would rather go another route, they are free to make use of the Sin Lounge and deliver torture or pain to each other.

For those eager for more, citizens may take as many punishments as they want during the month!

With their new letter collected, it is time for all to decide their new punishment and face it bravely!

Comments

Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[anewhero]

[Today is a grim day for the hybrid terminator. He forces himself to stare at his fear, a simple hypodermic needle, as he leaves the sin lounge, he slips the needle in his coat pocket.]

He knocked on the good doctor's door after getting the potion today. The potions described themselves as random and the man sighed after filling the potion up like his death all over again and grits his teeth.

"Hello, Jaz. Ready to get this punishment over with?"

Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[delilahs_death]

[Jezebel just looks grim, jaw clenched while he watches Marcus load up the needle. He won't make a fuss, he won't cause any commotion, but he does not look forward to this. He'll do what he has to, because of what this place demands and because he was lucky enough to dodge anything painful the previous month.

Still.

He was not going to enjoy this.

Jezebel nods slightly, flexing his fingers anxiously.]

As ready as I'll ever be, I imagine.

Re: Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[anewhero]

[Marcus nods and lifts the needle out from his pocket.

"Hold still. Moving will make it hurt more."

[He moves the needle toward Jaz's arm.]

Even I'm not sure what this month's punishment will be.

Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[delilahs_death]

[Jezebel nods tightly, arm out, fingers balled into each other. His face is still set in a grimace, but he doesn't flinch or pull away when Marcus approaches him. All he does is watch the needle come closer to him with clear trepidation.]

I don't either. I suppose I'll find out.

Re: Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[anewhero]

[The needle slips into a vein and Marcus watches to see what happens and doesn't pull it out until the potion is gone.]

He steps back, hiding his own grim look.

Re: Warning: Mentions of extreme pain

[delilahs_death]

[Jezebel watches with a fatalistic fascination when the needle slips in, determined to keep still and calm until he knew what was going to happen.

And then the plunger descends and it is immediately very, very clear what is going to happen. The potion sets his veins alight with pain as its pumped in, and he lets out a small, sharp noise as it slips into him and burn through his arm.

It's not even a second before he can trace his own blood with the way it flows up to his shoulder, pulsing with agony as it floods into his chest and his head. When it reaches his heart and his head, he lets out a stricken noise and catches himself on the table, knocking over some of the vials of potion as he struggles to stay upright.

But it burns, oh God, it burns and it hurts and it's everywhere and it's inside his body and it takes all his strength not to try to scratch it out. He shakes and goes pale and wild-eyed while he tries to keep himself steady, but the potion doesn't weaken as it courses through him, and it's all he can do not to scream.]

[vocarrah]

[Ianchus bursts out of the tent with a grand gesture, arms stretched wide. He's wearing a frozen rictus of a grin, and anyone could see the rage emanating through it. He's holding an empty potion flask in one hand, a bottle of the wine that was on the table with the other. ]

Do you hear him! You all do, right?

[He laughs, and then throws the empty flask, and takes a long drink from the bottle.]

Fratricide! Parricide! Regicide! My hands are clean of the deed itself, but I'm complicit, he says! And he'd know, wouldn't he!

[His voice rises, as if trying to drown out an imaginary voice. He whirls around, grabbing the first person he sees by the arms, baring the grin at him. His grip is unbelievably tight.]

It's me! Do you hear him? I've killed the Cepheos line.

[anewhero]

[Marcus feels Ianchus's own grip get unbearingly tight on his arms and the man's grin looks very strange.]

"Who are you talking to, Ianchus?"

[vocarrah]

Ah, Marcus--you can't see him? Of course you can't!

[He turns briefly, narrowing his eyes at whatever's behind him]

He always was the sort to slink along like a whipped dog, wasn't he, hiding in the shadows, tagging along just to irritate me. I told you to go back! All you can do is talk and talk and talk--

[Ianchus turns back to Marcus, tightening his grip on his arm.]

Well, he's a coward but he's right. I don't care about anyone.

[anewhero]

"We all try to tell ourselves we don't give a shit, don't care about anyone. It's hard enough not to show emotion as a half man and half terminator, even I know you aren't going mad, if that was true, then all of us would be.

[delilahs_death]

[Jezebel is sitting off to the side, still recovering from his own punishment. The pain has subsided from torturous into a throbbing ache all through his body, leaving him feeling weak and disoriented. He sits by himself for a long while and pays attention to nothing until Ianchus bursts out of his tent, looking far more wild-eyed than Jezebel's ever seen him.

When he grabs for Jezebel, he looks at him with a bewildered expression.] Ianchus -- whatever you're hearing, it's just the potions talking.

[vocarrah]

[He lets out a long drawn out, single-note laugh, more like a long exhale]

Ah, ah, but you see, Jezebel--

[He uses the other man's first name without even thinking about it, the first time he omitted the title. He doesn't let go of Jezebel's arm.]

Potions or not, he's absolutely right.

[His voice is lower, deadlier, boiling over with anger and bitterness.]

[delilahs_death]

[He catches the use of his name and that Ianchus's fingers are still gripping his arm, but he doesn't comment on them, not yet. Instead, he simply asks:]

Who is it you're seeing?

[vocarrah]

[His eyes are cold and flinty, incredibly aware, and they lock on Jezebel.]

I'm not mad.

[It's a forceful hiss, and he turns, sweeping his arm out at the empty air, eyes fixed on the ranting, slim man that only he can see.]

Meet Aetna Suveros, my shadow, royal attendant, who seems to have gotten lost.

[There's hate in his voice, controlled, and he spits the words out like darts.]

[delilahs_death]

I don't think you're mad.

[Drunk and hallucinating, yes, but not mad.

He glances behind Ianchus at the gesture, even though there's no one there and he sees nothing.]

What has he done to you?

CW: abuse mention

[delilahs_death]

[The night after he sees Ianchus drunk & furious, he dreams of Cassandra. It's the first time he's done so since he murdered him. Jezebel sleeps fitfully through the thoughts of his face, of his fingers tracing through his hair, of the way his hands would put him in positions he did not wish to be in.

The next few weeks were filled with dreams of both Cassandra and of his father. Two different types of ownership, still mingled together in his thoughts. In the dreams of Cassandra, he feels pain and vulnerability and the ever-watchful lust tasting his skin. When he dreams of his father, he remembers obedience and fear and the taste of a whip crossing his skin.

He supposes it shouldn't surprise him when he winds up in the room of torture again. The town had drawn him back again, of course, but his memories had truly made the case. He stares at them and names the ones that have hurt him, wondering if they'll take another chance.]

CW: alcohol abuse, probably

[vocarrah]

[Ianchus is in a corner of the room, lounging in one of the spiked chairs, keeping most of his weight on the arms to keep the dull spikes from digging too much into him. His shirt is off, thrown over the back of the chair, and he has a glass in one hand and a whip in the other. He's been fooling around with it, lightly snapping it against his shoulders, but he's even less successful at self-flagellation than he is at using it normally.

He's let himself sink down, so to speak--the last few weeks have been mostly spent lounging about his house, in a state of drunken stupor, letting the dark thoughts consume him. Self-hate is something he only knows too well, and to some degree, he can wallow in it. It's comfortable, it's another way to numb himself.

It was tonight that the town drew him here, blinking against the light. Yes, he supposed that he'd amuse himself here.

It takes him a moment to register that someone has entered the room, and he sits up, wincing as he remembers that he's not actually on a normal chair.]

CW: alcohol abuse, probably

[delilahs_death]

[It takes him a moment to see Ianchus there, but when he sees him, it's with a sense of understanding. Of course that's why he'd been drawn there. It only made sense to drag them both back. The town had its plans, and it knew all. Of course they would have to meet back there.

Still, at the same time: he knew Ianchus had never truly hurt him. He had been drunk and unruly and handsy, yes, but he had not hurt him. Really, it had been his own fault. He had overreacted, overcorrected, overdone everything. Even in the confines of his own mind, he could hear his father call him 'weak'.

When he speaks, his voice is as normal as he can make it:]
Hello, Ianchus.

Re: CW: alcohol abuse, probably

[vocarrah]

Hello.

[His own voice is slurred somewhat--he's much more drunk than he was before. He feels guilty for making Jezebel uncomfortable, feels terrible--he's played the scene over and over in his head--but ultimately it was easier to write it off as a blanket failing of his own character. There was no point in assessing himself, he was human scum who would hurt anyone he touched. It was a perfect narrative.

He pulls himself up out of the chair, standing, swaying a little, and then fixes Jezebel with a half-smile.]

I suppose I'll leave this room to you, then.

[He's telling himself he should apologize, but he's also telling himself he doesn't know how.]

CW: alcohol abuse

[delilahs_death]

If you suppose so.

[He doesn't think it'll be as easy as all that, but if Ianchus wants to leave, he won't stop him. Truly, he doesn't feel real anger at Ianchus for what happened, especially after his apology. All he felt was a sort of resignation and fear and guilt, swirled together in an ugly mess.

Really, he was so easy to hurt. If Ianchus took only a tiny bit of that, he could hardly be blamed.]

If you're leaving because of the last time I saw you, don't fret over it.

[preciousbrat]

The new month was already a couple of days old, when Eren decided that he should finally go to the tent, that is again build up at the center of Penance. It was somehow good to see, that every montht this tent would appear there and contain a new surprise for the citizens.

While he made his way into the city, Eren wondered what the ruler of the city had in store for them this time.

When the young man entered the tent, he saw the familiar tables filled with food and water, along with the table where the letters where waiting for get picked up.
Eren headed straight to the table. It didn't took him long to find the letter addressed to him.

This time he opened it right on the spot. It was nothing new to receive such a letter and there was no need to read it somewhere in a corner of the tent. A short moment he felt strangely proud of himself, since the last time he had searched for a deserted corner in the tent to read his letter.

The bottle he was holding in his hand was oddly beautiful, just like the colorful vials he remembered, but once again the liquid inside wasn't beautiful at all.

It was a tempting option to pass this bottle to someone else, but who would be so eager and take it? Unless you are maybe into receiving awful surprises or want to suffer a lot for what you have done in your past life. Eren wasn't sure if he could manage to talk another citizen into taking his bottle. But who said, that he couldn't disguise it?

While walking away from the table with the bottles and unread letters and forward to the tables with food and water, Eren was struggling between drinking the content from the bottle right on the spot or save it for later. Maybe one day you will end in a situation where you might need it. Sure, it seems odd on the first sign but you know that from your life as soldier: wounds can save you. So, what if this bottle might save you?

It was an interesting thought that had now occupied his mind. Therefore he stuffed the bottle into the inside pocket of his jacket, and looked over the offered supplies. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice, distracting him from his thoughts.

He turned around. "Hello my dear friend. Everything's alright?"

[delilahs_death]

"Well enough as can be expected, I suppose," he says, glancing over the potions in turn. Jezebel has a sense of trepidation even looking at them -- he'd been lucky to dodge anything too serious the previous month, and this would be his time to pay the piper. As much as he'd like to continue avoiding any of this place's torments, he couldn't hide forever.

"And yourself? Has anyone told you what any of these potions do?" he asks, picking one up and looking it over idly.

[preciousbrat]

"There is only a vague description in the letter. I guess this month has the motto Surprises.. It was even mentioned that you might see a ghost from someone you've hurt in the past."

Eren wondered why out of all the examples stated in the letter, he had chosen the ghost. Maybe, because he had always though that ghost were something that belongs into fairy tales. He let out a dry laugh. "As if there is such a thing has ghosts."

"Do you think that the effect of the portion depends on how much you have suffered in the pervious month?"
It was something worth thinking about.

[delilahs_death]

"Is it so odd to think of ghosts?" he asks, wearing a wry smile. "We're a land of the dead down here. If anything, we're ghosts ourselves."

Looking over the bottles idly, he shrugs at the second question, "I'm not sure. I don't know how they decide their punishments. Perhaps it all depends on how many sins we need to redeem while we're down here."

[preciousbrat]

Jezebel had a point but oddly enough, Eren had never thought of himself as a ghost. Just as dead. He knew it would be a helpless attempt to explain his thoughts but he tried.

"I always imaged ghosts the way they are in fairy tales. You know translucent, floating through the air and all this stuff."
He made a short pause before he added "What if ghosts here are something different, like we image them?"

That explanation was making sense. Eren had no idea how many sins he had committed. Not was he aware of the sin of his fellow citizens. The fact, that they were all sinners had connected them from the beginning and therefore it was hard for Eren to judge someone else. And if he was honest to himself, he didn't want to know all the sins from the people he was starting to call "acquaintances" or "friends".

"In my past life I've heard, that there are some sins that can never be redeemed."