time won't save our souls [OPEN]

[whip_poor_will]

Who: Ravine and You (feat. ghosts of the old Hadriel hosts and some dead Null).
What: After recovering from being a nasty corrupted soul, Ravine tries to speak with the concerned spirits that previously inhabited this sunny planet.
Where: All over.
When: May 21st-26th, post Senses Fail event.
Notes: Continued from this network post. More info about this log can be found in Ravine's CR meme comment. Basically consider this a log for characters to experience some ghostly antics over the next few days, with maybe Ravine popping into places where she senses the hosts to be more distressed than in others if you'd like.

If anyone wants their CR to join in on the second prompt, feel free! Unfortunately there will be a lack of NPC interaction with the spirits of the hosts (the Null are there but their limited emotions also gives them not enough presence to influence their surroundings), but anyone who wishes to have their character be affected will definitely notice some poltergeisty events happening around them! Don't worry, though -- they're friendly. 👻 Or harmless, at best.

---

I. May 21st; (OTA for Ravine)

The dead can be such poor and fragile things. Ravine has dealt with more than enough dead and dying to know just how sensitive they so often are.

Their fragments remain stained on this world. That much Ravine was able to discover when she was unstable herself, seeking out souls just like them to share in her suffering and bring into her own being. She takes no pride in this weakness of hers -- this possibility -- that she's kept closely guarded.

So, when she can be found by the lake, the fact that she appears to be having a rather in-depth conversation with seemingly no one might be enough to call for anyone's attention.

While they are most likely unable to catch anything visually, those who draw near can feel harrowing emotions that do not belong to themselves. Mixtures of confusion, fear, and sadness is almost overwhelming. Other times the emotions are much more fleeting, plaguing those in the vicinity with a strong impulse for order; but these feelings are just that -- fleeting.

As for Ravine, her speech is... strange. Her inflection sounds different, unrecognizable. Even through the magic translation the gods have cooked up in this place, she is difficult to understand. She'll only pay heed to those who dare come close enough--

"Careful, now. Slowly. I do not wish to scare them."

--and even then, her voice is warbled and odd.

---

II. May 22nd-26th; (OTA)

The people of Hadriel might notice something amiss recently.

Over the next few days, you get the feeling that you're not alone at times, even when there is no one else in the room with you. Things may go missing, like your phone or keys or one of your socks (because it's always just one). Perhaps you tried to pick up feng shui and notice something has been rearranged in your living room.

And then there are times where it's not so subtle and cute. Doors open on their own, only to slam shut with all the force that would probably break a hand if you got caught in it. A chair moves. The table shakes.

It's almost like a cliché right out of a horror movie. That means that anyone with a Ouija board should... know better than to use one of those. Seriously?

The few residents who are more inclined towards communing and viewing with the spiritual world may catch glimpses of alien specters -- or, rather, the former inhabitants of the planet, and original hosts to the gods we all know and love. It quickly becomes obvious that any attempt at speaking with them is fruitless, as the host's spirits are a little too distressed and flicker before anyone has the chance to get anywhere.

What ethereal evidence can be seen of these hosts reveals shapeless forms, barely visible, and far from humanoid. Most attempts at conversation or reaction is more likely to be met either with a swift exit or a thrown priceless vase or some other fragile valuable you own.

Comments

May 21st;

[atravellerwithabow]

He's... curious. Yes, that's a word for it. Having spent the last week unable to do the very thing that he finds the most pleasure in, he feels peculiarly off-kilter and this very peculiar woman(?) draws his attention in a way that few things do these days.

It doesn't feel great to be here. In fact, it feels downright terrible, but Nil has done a great deal more to satisfy his interest in something and he gets close enough to have her speak to him, to... warn him?

"... Alright..." he replies, keeping his tone low. That said, he doesn't get much closer to her after that. There's something here. Something he can't see. "Who are they."

[whip_poor_will]

The unease lingers well before Nil arrives, but something about him leaves a sense of anxiety. The shapeless forms that Ravine sees in front of her but invisible to the mortal eye shrinks away in concern.

"They are the ones who came before," Ravine answers. Then, deciding to be more helpful, she adds: "The old hosts who worshipped the gods are still here."

It's a shame that she may as well have had a hand in their unrest, but all Ravine can think of now is how to soothe their worries.

[atravellerwithabow]

He wouldn't be surprised had he known that was the case. Nil carries the blood of hundreds on his hands, for as much as he barely gives it a second thought.

A quick glance goes up to Ravine, and then to the space around them. It looks empty, to him, but there is a presence here that is not anything to do with her. It's the same sensation he feels when he knows he's being watched but can't find the observer.

"That's unsettling," he comments almost blithely, loosely folding his arms. "And you, you're--" What was it that she said she does? "Making certain that they go where they're supposed to?"

[whip_poor_will]

That question gets a near-blithe smile out of Ravine herself.

"I certainly made an attempt to offer, but it would seem they are waiting for Hope to resurrect them one day. I try to respect their wishes. Rules are somewhat different here than back home."

She doesn't have to worry about the spirits of the hosts turning into warped shades that could cause direct harm to the living. They'll just become a really annoying, lingering presence for a while. It's normal stuff.

[atravellerwithabow]

It isn't often that Nil is unsettled by anything, but there is something profoundly unsettling about standing here, with only this woman - or whatever she is - visible to him and the peculiar sensation of being surrounded by more than a dozen others. In these kinds of situations he would expect to find an arrow or twelve trained on him, but there's nothing.

Mm. Unsettling.

"Then what are you doing?"

[whip_poor_will]

On the plus side, the presence of the hosts doesn't evoke any ominous vibes of violence. They're not a combative sort, much as the gods have claimed. And while Ravine had never sought them out before, her corrupted state from the previous few days have left them more alarmed than usual.

No amount of apologies to someone can make up for trying to eat them, unfortunately.

"It was my doing that frightened them so. Now I am simply trying to quell their fears."

If the gods could get any power from the dead, there would be plenty of it emitting from the hosts in the last week.

[atravellerwithabow]

"This feeling..." Nil mutters then. He decides on broaching the topic, because if he doesn't, not having the answers is going to bother him for weeks. While he's not always the curious sort (his attention usually finds its way to other places before what most would call adventuring)... this is different.

It doesn't feel like the sensation is being forced, the way the 'gods' here push things upon them.

"It's them, isn't it?"

5/21

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin takes a walk down to the lake in one of his extremely rare moments of leisure, after having spent time working on the fire engines. But as he walks, he begins to feel wafts of emotions, like a wind starting up and stopping. Anxiety, fear, confusion, sorrow, and what? -- a need to create order? -- almost a craft-workers desire, or at least that is how he interprets it, being one himself. Weird. Are the gods fooling around with the residents again? The feelings are intense when they are there, but they come and go.

A little south along the shore he comes upon the tall figure of Ravine, who seems to be having a conversation with. . . no one? She apparently hears him coming and cautions him in a very peculiar voice. He slows down and moves carefully, but he is suddenly curious.

"You don't wish to scare who?"

[whip_poor_will]

For once, this is by no hand of the gods. How much comfort there is to be found in that is up for debate, as it isn't like a whole lot of people have expressed a desire to be around someone who can see facets of themselves that few can.

"The hosts of this place before, the ones who are long dead," Ravine replies, casual and calm so not to disturb the air around her.

It's only a matter of time, of course.

[so_dark_a_road]

"They're still here? In spirit? Those emotions I just walked through were theirs? Like a haunted wind."

Of course he doesn't yet realize that she has any such ability -- to see those hidden facets. At the moment, he's riveted by the idea of the former hosts. He wonders who they were, and how they were able to feel emotions at will in order to feed the gods. It is as though they were expert performers in the theatre of life.

[whip_poor_will]

"They never truly left," Ravine says plainly. "Someday they expect Hope to resurrect them, as he does with his own."

A fact that isn't a closely guarded secret by the gods, but it may not be a very well-known one, either. Most are not familiar with the existence of the old hosts, what they were like, et cetera.

Ravine simply wanted to speak.

[so_dark_a_road]

"I know Hope is planning to resurrect them someday. He told me this. He said he doesn't dare to do such a thing in the present, because he doesn't want to endanger those former hosts. That makes sense to me, because of course with this continuous Null pursuit and the possibility of another direct attack, those former hosts would immediately be targets. As they were before."

He gives a grim little smile. "But this way, those hosts are safe. They may not be happy about being dead, but they're safe. If the Null attack again and are successful, it'll be we who are killed. To the gods, that is an acceptable risk."

But since Ravine is here and can perceive the old hosts, he won't lose this chance to ask questions.

"Do they speak to you? What do they say?"

[whip_poor_will]

"And if the gods lose, you better hope that I am around to make certain everyone returns to where they need to go safely."

Ravine smiles at that more than she has any right to be. She's not offering a way back home for everyone here, but for their departed souls, lost with nowhere else to go. Where Ravine is standing, the reaping is a far more merciful fate than leaving those left to wander aimlessly in a world they do not belong in.

And the Null's godkillers may pose a threat to Ravine, sure, but knowing this to be the case now, it simply means that she will gave to make use of the Zones more often in the likely event of another assault.

"They are sad," Ravine finally answers. "They were unaware of the fate of their kin here, or what had become of their gods."

26th

[puzzlingly]

The feeling of being observed is not quite a new one, it is, in fact, a little reminder of many things. But in Hadriel it would usually mean something more palpable than just a gut feeling. It's but a flicker out of the corner of his eye, a ghost — a glimpse of something that was there and the moment he turns it is not — and the third time he has to turn, he has to wonder.

"Ravine?" He mutters under his breath. She might not be the only one with the ability to be there when no one else can see them, but she's the first that comes to his mind. Being stuck in his mortal vessel doesn't allow him to really see the little spirts, but it's obvious he feels something.

But nothing (at least not yet) comes from anywhere and Atem (disappointedly) lies back on the couch of his home, a little too drained from trying to just go on with his usual errands and apparent routine. As days went by, he didn't get more used to it, but all the opposite; the past days' fatigue started pilling on him. Even Rey told him to take a few days off, rest, in her Rey-ish way.

Sure, whatever, he can lie down there while he reviews his deck, he reaches for it on the coffee table and--

"Where is my...!!" He sits up so fast that it makes his head hurt, not that he cares in the slightest. His deck is missing, when it was right at the grasp of his hand! Now that's a true horror story.

[whip_poor_will]

Truly the most heinous of Hadriel crimes yet! Someone call the cops.

Actually, instead Atem gets a Ravine not long after his search for the missing card deck. There's no grand entrance through a window or door, she's just there -- though by now he may be used to that. She has sensed not only Atem himself, but the disturbed presence among the abode to indicate that he is not alone in here.

It doesn't take her very long before Ravine steps into the area with a familiar pack in a gloved hand, her expression neutral. She's been chasing these things all throughout the city, but she's had a little extra energy to keep her going. She hates to admit where that must have come from.

"Looking for this?" Ravine announces herself, brandishing the missing deck for its owner to take.

Really, it wasn't that hard. Keeping them from vanishing again now that they seem to have held value is another matter entirely.

[puzzlingly]

Before Ravine shows up, Atem has gone up and down the house, looked in every crack and crevice, under the coach, even in the bathroom. His anxiety grows exponentially as time goes. But when he finally he turns and faces Ravine, he halts completely. He hadn't seen her since then.

His honest surprise from her sudden apparison is quickly replaced by a little smile. She looks like the Ravine he knows, he's glad she's doing fine again, and there isn't a single thought coming from him that relates to what happened between them, to what she did; he's just happy to see her. And even more so when she offers him his deck. Losing the only thing that kept him connected to his home, both modern and ancient and not just as a memere memento, would be a terrible blow for him. His whole soul was in that deck. But even his cardboard friends can wait a little, he takes the deck keeping it close to his chest, but keeps his attention on Ravine.

"Yeah. Thank you for finding it." Oh-- but wait a minute. "...Were you here earlier?"

[whip_poor_will]

What happened between them hasn't been what kept Ravine for long, but she doesn't fault Atem for it, either. Still, she's grateful to be capable of offering him some happiness when she can, even though she senses something missing about him. She doesn't have to ask what, but that can wait, if he is still allowed to stand on his own two feet for now.

"No, I just got here."

She shifts her head to glance around, still hearing the echoes of the whispers that passed through this place. She's been following them all over the city. Such a pain.

After a moment, she casts her gaze back to Atem, her eyes their usual soft brown than the piercing gold of the monster she had been, non-threatening. "It seems you were visited by one of the previous occupants, however."

[puzzlingly]

"What do you..." He turns towards the spot he had been looking at earlier, there is nothing there and yet...

It wasn't the first time he wondered about that, if Hope could revive them so easily, apparently, what about their own hosts?

"You mean, them? Are they still here?"

[whip_poor_will]

They have given Ravine more than enough reason for why they have remained in such dismal states all this time, but for now she nods.

"Yes, they were, and I believe they still are." Her mouth twitches into a slight smile. "You are fortunate they simply took one of your things. They have been rather distressed the last few days, though I take some blame for that."

The other parts she blames Fear for what he did to Ravine.

24th | Closed to Semiyon

[abyssalarcana]

Caedra is home, writing a letter to someone who isn't here, when the stack of papers spills itself off the table. The windows are open, but she had felt no draft.

There is a faint shimmer in the air, just barely picked up at the edge of her vision, and Caedra's instincts kick in. It has been so long since she has seen an opportunity like this - but she manages to stop herself from diving at the thing and consuming it entirely even though she desperately wants to. She isn't fully a slave to her impulses, after all. This is much too important.

She doesn't take her eyes off the faint little thing, just reaches for the bag she had set near the sofa, with its jars and ink, pens and notebook, and a recent acquisition - a little metal box, with intricate floral designs made out of wire. It's tacky and cheap and probably supposed to be a candle holder, judging by the round indentation in the base of the thing, but she knows she can repurpose it. Before the lost soul can realize what its fate will be, she holds the cage before it and hurriedly but precisely utters the words she is so familiar with.

"Ivakov et: abyssus sirtam, cae anima oivres em!"

It tries to escape but this is what her kind so often do, when they're not destroying these things entirely. Souls are delicious, and packed with raw power. They catalyze the transformations of the tanar'ri throughout their long lives. But they also hold information and right now, that strikes Caedra as more important than destroying this thing entirely. This is a rare chance. The soul is drawn from the air and sealed magically inside the little makeshift cage - and the form it takes is not one she has ever seen before.

She stuffs it in the bag and doesn't even bother with the scattered papers. The soul will only last so long in her trap before it dissipates forever, and in that time she needs to decide what information to try and extract from the last remnants of its life. And for that, she wants help. Something so potentially important should be undertaken with input from someone more cunning than her, who won't mind what she has done. There are few she trusts to be useful and even fewer who won't object to the imprisonment and torture the creature will go through in its final moments.

Naturally, she'll ask Semiyon.

Re: 24th | Closed to Semiyon

[bespectacledsnake]

"So to be sure I understand this...it is a soul?"

A silver, inquisitive brow arches high on Semiyon's forehead as he sets out glasses and wine in honor of her visit, proceeding to fill both glasses and slide one in her direction before moving to take a seat. This was not exactly what he had expected when Caedra had turned up at his door.

"Whose soul?"

[abyssalarcana]

Oh, what a good man. Wine naturally goes hand in hand with torture and interrogation, after all. She sets the caged thing down on the table as she takes her glass, and watches it like one might eye the biggest lobster before it is taken to be boiled and served.

Well. If lobsters looked even more alien and strange than they already do, that is, but it doesn't bother her any. The more exotic, the finer the dining.

"I saw it at my home. It's possible there are others. But - its shape is unfamiliar, even to me. It was behaving a bit like a ghost. I think it might be one of the natives," she replies.

[bespectacledsnake]

Setting his forearms on the table, Semiyon leans in to look closer, a look of pure fascination on his face. The gravity of the possibility is not lost on him. If this is indeed a native, one of the ones who passed through this place before they were brought here, the potential benefit them is enormous.

"Caedra, your powers...can they communicate with such a creature?"

[abyssalarcana]

"I can force it to talk, yes. For a time. It's incredibly draining on these things, so we may not get much out of it before it expires."

There are plenty of other uses for souls, of course. They're a source of raw power, and the primary form of currency for those powerful enough to regularly possess multiples of them at once. Just as mortals are plentiful, so are their souls - normally, anyway. This city, its gods, the Door: all seem to have created some sort of exception to that rule.

[bespectacledsnake]

"Then we must choose what we ask wisely."

He takes a long sip of his wine, pursing his lips after as he considers what he would want to know.

"Would it perhaps be too optimistic to think this little creature might know something about how to get out of this place? About that Door?"