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One thing is for certain: this is possibly the riskiest thing that Direct Action has ever done.
And they're taking along a friend? So that's nice?
It's about a 3 hour ride from Philly to New York City in good traffic, and weekend traffic is worse, but at least they got started early in the morning, because Teagan rustled everyone pretty early. This may mean that they never went to sleep, or only napped. So they're in the car for about four hours, with Teagan starting the drive. June's VW van is adorable and bright yellow and fits everyone. It's a little like driving a very large beehive up the Jersey Turnpike: it smells like honey on the inside, no joke.
Having done the necessary research ahead of time, the motley knows a doorway which leads onto one of the local trods. Which leads to the group of them on a trod, just outside New York City, with their van parked in an overnight parking garage in Manhattan, racking up ridiculous parking fees, which is the least of their worries but another thing for Sig to grumble about hating about Manhattan.
Teagan fades from sight on the trod, leaving Johnnie the only one who knows if they're still around or not. Handy little trifle, that. And somewhere off in the distance, barely visible on the horizon, that way through the thorns, the suggestion of a Tower.
June spends most of the drive trying to convince people to do sing-alongs to whatever is on the radio, which has been replaced by a modern bluetooth enabled one rather than the old VW Bus's radio, or playing roadtrip games. Given the early hour she probably has limited success, but that doesn't seem to dampen her spirits.
Once they park and make for the Trod, June grabs the bag from the trunk that contains her armor and gets clad up, leaving her carrying nothing but her survival kit in a pack on her back.
The company has been assembled, armor donned, weapon belts strapped into place, their attendant weapons honed to a fine edge. Bows strung, quivers filled, rations packed. Setting out on the trod is relatively easy going. It's a Trod, after all. And Sigrun used to walk them.
But it's been many years since Sigrun walked these ways, and the nostalgia isn't fondly remembered. When the black tower looms up out of the thorns, marking their rough proximity to where the events in she and Sturm's dreams all took place, Sigrun lets out a slow and calming breath. Her eyes roll shut, she mutters a prayer to the Lady of the Hunt, and slowly unsheathes her sword. "You can see that thing from a good long ways off. This is actually the hard part from here on out. Solidify your minds and hearts. Try to stay together if you can." Having consumed her goblin fruit to help her reach her Icon, she draws back her weapon, and begins to hack at the hedge wall, starting the chase.
Preparations done, the future studied and information passed onto Sigrun. And with that, Laura lets her voice fade as she prepares for the possibility of combat and danger. With help from Glitch lightning crackles around her, jumping between her claws and fangs, strength has been borrowed from Fang and she takes a breath, stepping away from the others to let the change come. She grows in size and drops to all fours, a hulking hyena monster wreathed in lightning. Turning back to the others, she pads nearer, gently headbutting other members of the motley and giving Strum what passes for a friendly rumble. Whatever comes, she feels they're ready to face and moves to stick close, ready to offer support as and when needed.
Glitch slept most of the drive up, dozing in a deep and almost ragdoll-like state of stillness. Once they're out of the vehicle and into the Hedge, he shares some of his spark with Laura. He takes a few steps back, bringing up the rear of the group and staying about six feet behind anyone else. He sticks with them, but as the Sprite fully summons flashing white phosphors to glow and crackle along his skin and blade, leaving him dangerous to the touch and the exact opposite of subtle, he doesn't want to act as a beacon light in the front of the group. Unless asked to.
Johnnie sleeps the whole way there. Travel time is wasted time, and she is far happier snuggled up against June (when she isn't playing car games, anyway!) and sleeping than she would be sitting awake while they drive through The City. But then it's time to travel, and she's On It.
Normally, Johnnie exhibits an inhuman grace that defies explanation. Now, though? She's difficult to watch- and so she makes sure nobody has to, taking up the rear guard. Her movements are so far beyond simply being smooth or graceful that it starts to hurt to try to comprehend the ways she moves. It's a mercy, really, that she's letting others in front of her.
Sigknifr, is out and in hand, her shadows juggling a pitch-hued throwing dagger she sorcelled up from their very substance. At least? Here, in this strange, unfamiliar- or too familiar- section of the Hedge? That pulsing sense of power behind the group might actually be a relief.
One thing about the trip is for sure: Sturm does not do sing-alongs. Sorry, June. She spends the bulk of the drive in silence, and keeping to herself. When the time comes to enter the trod, she dons her armor with a deliberate pace born of practice and repetition, manifests a terrifying frozen weapon, and then follows her comrades into the Hedge.
All this is done in silence - and the only noise she's made in the past few hours comes in the form of a low grumble - which resonates from somewhere deep in her chest - when she notices the sight of the black tower on the horizon. Once more unto the breach.
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 14 dice and got 4 successes. 7 2 1 3 5 10(4) 9(5) 7 4 8 10(6) 3 2 6
@Spider (they/them) rolled 4 dice and got 2 successes. 10(7) 5 7 9
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 14 dice and got 2 successes. 5 3 2 8 7 2 4 6 6 8 4 1 3 1
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 13 dice and got 2 successes. 6 3 4 7 4 4 1 8 3 1 2 10(2) 2
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 12 dice and got 5 successes. 8 8 2 5 7 9 7 7 6 8 8 5
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 13 dice and got 6 successes. 10(7) 3 4 1 7 10(2) 8 8 1 2 9 6 8
@Spider (they/them) rolled 4 dice and got 1 success. 2 9 3 5
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 18 dice and got 4 successes. 7 2 4 7 6 1 2 6 6 6 7 8 10(3) 6 10(3) 5 6 8
@Spider (they/them) rolled 14 dice and got 6 successes. 8 5 2 3 9 8 10(4) 4 1 3 4 9 9 7
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 16 dice and got 3 successes. 6 2 1 10(1) 4 3 7 2 5 9 6 2 2 9 7 7
@Spider (they/them) rolled 5 dice and got 2 successes. 9 10(2) 6 3 3
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 11 dice and got 1 success. 3 2 6 10(1) 6 5 3 3 6 7 1
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 14 dice and got 5 successes. 2 1 8 8 1 3 10(2) 4 10(1) 6 1 2 3 9(7)
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 18 dice and got 9 successes. 10(4) 8 4 10(5) 5 3 10(2) 5 2 9 10(8) 7 3 2 2 3 9 10(3)
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 16 dice and got 7 successes. 4 9 10(10)(3) 4 3 2 8 9 4 9 2 7 1 9 3 4
The Tower is an obvious landmark in the local Hedge, and the motley (plus Sturm) working together are more than a match for the psychoactive landscape. The Thorns grab at their hair, pull on their clothing, snag on the edges of the metal armor which Sigrun crafted so lovingly for everyone.
Johnnie's trifle lets her know that Teagan is close enough to continually activate it, the necklace a warm and comfortable presence resting against her chest. Maybe being Light-Shy in the Thorns isn't, like, that smart.
The Hedge seems to somehow grow heavier and darker, thicker and more oppressive, as they continue. The wood creaks in a way that sounds like an old man adjusting on his throne; the leaves flutter like the movement of a heavy cloak. The wind's sibilant whisper through the vines sounds far too much like the flutter of raven's wings. Shadows stretch and mutate, Pareidolia is a curse when every gap in the Thorns with a leaf hanging down looks just a little bit like an old man's face with an eye-patch, watching you, watching you,
watching you
But the Motley makes it to the foot of the Tower. One of the landmarks on the map. A massive presence in the Hedge, this thick, onyx-black presence rips upward out of the ground and stabs at the colorless sky, knotwork carved into every surface in brain-bending, headache-inducing patterns if the Lost stare at it for too long.
@Spider (they/them) rolled 4 dice and got 0 successes. 1 2 3 7
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 7 dice and got 4 successes. 7 7 10(1) 8 1 10(8) 3
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 12 dice and got 1 success. 2 2 5 4 4 9 5 1 3 6 2 1
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 11 dice and got 1 success. 4 10(1) 5 2 7 7 7 6 3 2 1
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 5 dice and got 1 success. 7 10(2) 2 7 4
Laura had followed after Sigrun, but as the Thorns grew thick and tangled, she had initially struggled, snarling angrily as she failed to find purchase. And then she found it.
Focusing her strength and fury she turned into a virtual tornado of claws, fangs and lightning, tearing a hole in the foliage around her and burning through it until she exploded out, a crackling roar offered in defiance. Growling she stalked forward, ears pricked as they drew nearer to that sinister tower.
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 8 dice and got 1 success. 5 6 5 6 1 9 5 2
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 5 dice and got 0 successes. 4 2 1 5 3
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 12 dice and got 2 successes. 4 4 8 1 9 6 1 7 1 2 7 7
@Spider (they/them) rolled 5 dice and got 1 success. 10(4) 3 4 3 2
Johnnie keeps at the edge of the group's rear, her shadows fending off the clinging thorns trying to catch and dig and slow their process, refusing the psychoactive attempts to dissuade them and redirect them to places less pleasant for their well-being. Her eyes are clear in the pit of her hood, brilliant eyeshines gleaming in the dark. She keeps right on keeping on, trailing behind the others to make sure nobody gets left behind, watching for dangers and threats.
Sigrun's swinging blade carves a path through the thorns both figurative and born of her will. The vines recoil from her as much as they are cut away, though the trail she blazes is narrow and little more than a cyst of changeling in the muscle of the hedge. It's slow going at first, but eventually she is able to hack and slash her way to the base of the onyx tower. At first she stares at it blankly, and then her weapon and shield arm begin to sag a bit, her jaw also.
She's not crazy.
June is muttering to herself in her helmet by the time that they reach where they're going, and her claws are covered in spatters of sap and bits of leaf and stem. Once she finally breaks through she turns to wait for everyone else, since she ends up being one of the first to arrive, and the muttering stops as the fretting begins. As everyone else starts to emerge she says, "I can't say I like that thing. It makes my brain hurt."
Sturm hangs towards the back of the group's formation, using her fists - and great strength - to smash and wrestle the Hedge's attempts to slow her progress. She makes very little noise while they travel - at times seeming like just an animate suit of armor - until they reach the base of the tower.
"Fuckin'," whatever else she says beyond the curse is too rumbly and grumbly to make out. Thankfully, whatever expression is currently on her face is entirely hidden by the plate mask that's covering her head.
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 9 dice and got 3 successes. 8 9 9 5 5 3 5 7 7
Glitch is one of the last to arrive. Falling behind at first, not the most experienced at hacking through the thorns, he struggles at first to bring his glowing weapon to bear on them. Once he's had some time to adjust, though, he cuts a clean swath alongside the others, his static-laden skin crackling and burning away any thorns that get close enough to scrape. Trudging up alongside the others, he pauses to stare up at the massive tower, lifting one pixellated eyebrow. "Am I missing somethin'?"
Scopaesthesia is a real thing. The feeling of being watched permeates this entire area, possibly extending from the tower itself, possibly a function of being this deep in the Hedge. It doesn't feel like they went that deep into the Hedge, but at the same time, there's this bated-breath feeling, this knowledge that somewhere right around here is where two of this party broke free from Arcadia. Somewhere right around here one of them was dragged back into hell, screaming.
While the Hedge doesn't have normal hills and valleys, there's a feeling of being on a high place. On a hill across what feels like a valley, some impossible near distance away, Laura spots a glittering something in the Thorns. A shimmering thing.
It could be a trap, granted.
She narrows her eyes that way, eyeing it like you would a snake before she swings her shaggy head to the group, rumbling to get their attention before she returns her gaze to that shimmering thing in the Thorns. All her fur is up on end, and not just from static electricity. She's got her hackles raised, very much so.
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 14 dice and got 7 successes. 10(8) 3 10(10)(5) 5 8 4 8 5 2 7 1 3 2 9
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 13 dice and got 4 successes. 3 6 9 6 7 3 7 8 2 5 1 8 9
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 8 dice and got 1 success. 7 2 2 7 7 5 2 8
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 14 dice and got 2 successes. 4 4 3 1 2 6 10(9) 4 4 2 3 2 6 5
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 12 dice and got 2 successes. 2 1 2 3 9 4 5 2 3 2 1 8
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 9 dice and got 2 successes. 6 10(6) 3 3 2 5 9 3 6
"What?" June asks, glancing at Laura when the rumbling starts and then trying to follow her gaze to whatever it is she's looking at. Her hands curl into claws like she's ready for something more hostile, before she realizes that she this isn't an immediate danger growl. She doesn't see what's causing the alarm, though.
What a strange moment for Sigrun, to be standing on top of a hill squinting into the near distance, looking at this sparkly thing that Laura initially spotted, and to feel the ice-cold certainty of what she's looking at the moment that she sees it, carving down her spine and into her stomach. Of course she's the one who sees it, and it hits her like a slap to the face.
A shining slip of soul, fluttering like a pennant, ripped free in a shape that looks for all the world like a pair of wings. It ripples in a breeze that no one feels as if attempting to break free of what pins it to the Thorns' trunk, the only thing keeping it from escaping and slithering further off into the Hedge, or disappearing forever:
Half a broken arrow, stained with blood the color of Sturm's deepest blushes, fired deep into the wood of one of the Thorns and left there. The blood glistens as if forever fresh, illusory drops sliding free from it and dissipating. No matter how many drops of cobalt-blue blood drip from the haft, the blood never dries.
Sigrun is still staring up at the tower blankly when Laura draws everyone's attention to that distant gleam. She doesn't seem keen to turn her back on that tower. Not for a single moment. In fact, she begins backing away from it, instead, until she comes into contact with Laura's furry form and can turn her head with reasonable confidence. Eventually she does wrest her attention away, sheathes her sword, and covers her eyes with her hand to peer into the distance. Then she swallows, the gold light draining from her face, leaving her looking silvery white. When she finally speaks, her voice fairly dry and hoarse, "It's me."
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 12 dice and got 5 successes. 8 1 9 2 5 7 4 9 2 6 9 8
Laura doesn't speak, she can't speak right now. But she does nudge her head gently against Sigrun's side, offering silent reassurance and support.
It is her, but as she says those words out loud, she becomes acutely, soul-deep aware that it isn't just her. Whose blood was literally blue in Arcadia? Who would have had to bleed on the arrow for it to forever carry that color? Whose soul hangs on the arrow literally pinning hers in place?
The answer is almost painfully obvious, squeezing tight on her throat.
Johnnie is, conversely, trying her damnedest not to look at the tower. She's visibly uncomfortable, her sharp senses sharing too much of the too-complex patterns, twisting her stomach even to remember it. However, her eyes aren't as keen as Sigrun's at finding her own Self in the Thorns, so she's mostly reduced to keeping watch for the time being- that and trying not to think about that unsettling, horrific tower looming behind her. She's not much a fan of that tower at all. She wasn't the first time she saw it, and that hasn't changed.
Sigrun lowers her hand from her her brow and wraps her fingers around the hilt of Sigsverd once again, sliding the blade from its sheathe and spinning it once before starting off down the face of the hill with her icon in mind. "It's Sturm, too. It's both of us. We can find the shield once we've regained our icons, Glitch. Let's not lose sight of this. This is more important, anyway."
The Hyena chuffs in quiet agreement, paws taking her down the slope as well and flanking the Valkyrie as she leads them onwards to their goal.
Johnnie follows, taking a moment to see if she can spot either the jutting stone or the flowering willow from where they are just now.
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 12 dice and got 3 successes. 6 10(4) 5 1 7 4 9 9 6 5 7 6
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 14 dice and got 6 successes. 6 7 2 4 9 7 7 5 10(8) 7 10(10)(1) 10(1) 6 1
Aren't I a good bot, @AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They)?
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 13 dice and got 5 successes. 7 6 1 3 9 8 10(4) 2 7 9 7 8 1
Did you hack me, @Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm)?
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 9 dice and got 3 successes. 6 8 2 7 2 8 5 10(7) 1
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 8 dice and got 3 successes. 1 2 10(1) 7 2 3 9 9
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 14 dice and got 3 successes. 5 3 6 9 4 7 10(1) 1 2 6 6 7 7 8
Just as Sigrun says 'let's not lose sight of this', there's a low, mournful keening that reverberates through the Hedge, and a black shadow tears free from the Tower, pushing past the motley, rushing toward the twinned Icons. The shadow stops, slithering up the Hedge wall with a liquid grace that makes Johnnie look like a gallumphing and rank amateur, and then a howl chills the blood, echoing,
echoing
echoing
as long tendrils of shadow slither upward into the sky, grasping at the air like hungry claws.
@Spider (they/them) rolled 12 dice and got 4 successes. 7 9 5 4 3 5 10(6) 1 10(9) 5 5 6
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 17 dice and got 11 successes. 9(2) 8 2 10(5) 4 7 9(10)(6) 3 10(5) 5 10(3) 7 9(3) 8 3 10(1) 9(5)
Don't let this luck go to waste, @AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They).
@Spider (they/them) rolled 14 dice and got 4 successes. 3 3 7 6 2 3 3 9 10(3) 8 10(5) 1 1 2
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 17 dice and got 15 successes. 4 10(4) 8 9(5) 8 9(10)(10)(6) 10(10)(10)(9)(3) 4 4 10(9)(4) 7 1 2 2 4 10(5) 8
You should take the beat, @AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They).
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 15 dice and got 5 successes. 10(4) 5 8 4 9 7 1 3 10(4) 5 7 6 7 1 9
Don't let this luck go to waste, @Untitled Goose Admin (she/her).
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 20 dice and got 7 successes. 4 4 6 6 8 2 10(3) 9 8 5 6 10(8) 3 1 4 9 3 3 6 7
Aren't I a good bot, @Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm)?
@Spider (they/them) rolled 14 dice and got 7 successes. 6 3 8 4 3 1 8 5 8 9 2 6 10(8) 10(7)
Aren't I a good bot, @Spider (they/them)?
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 23 dice and got 7 successes. 9(3) 10(7) 6 9(7) 7 6 1 7 4 3 9(7) 7 3 6 1 7 6 6 3 9(9)(8) 6 5 7
Masterfully done, @Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3)!
@Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony rolled 22 dice and got 7 successes. 1 5 3 3 10(5) 6 4 9 4 6 8 3 5 9 7 4 2 2 8 3 10(7) 8
Masterfully done, @Michael/Laura/Atalo/Harmony!
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 5 dice and got 1 success. 9 4 6 4 2
@Spider (they/them) rolled 16 dice and got 4 successes. 9 1 4 6 5 1 8 6 3 4 8 4 3 4 2 8
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 6 dice and got 1 success. 1 6 6 7 10(3) 2
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 6 dice and got 1 success. 10(1) 1 5 4 7 7
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 2 dice and got 0 successes. 6 6
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 1 dice and got 0 successes. 4
Not today fucker. Hyena roared at the shadow, hurtling down the slope and digging into the dirt with claws. This was the time for Sigrun and she'd find what she needed. Tearing through the Hedge, she pounded towards the bloody arrow.
When she's not in the Hedge dealing with its psychoactive nonsense, June might be able to give hedgehogs a run for their money (or coins) when it comes to covering ground. In the Hedge there are more limits to what she can do, and the need to slash through things constantly with her claws slows her down considerably. Claws flash and rend as she hacks her way through one obstacle after another, leaving a trail that will pretty much just forget she was ever there before too long. She's making good progress, but not like Sigrun is.
When Sigrun realizes what it is that she's seeing-- a creature of Odinn's ilk rushing for a piece of her soul --she responds as any servant of the Lady of the Vanir would. She takes off at a dead run, hacking away at the thorns as she goes, slamming them aside with her shield, and tearing through them bodily when that isn't sufficient. Her wyrding carves a path, straight and true, and for a moment there the Valkyrie seems almost to stretch, or possibly the hill grows closer. Either way, Sigrun seems to drift to the ground in place atop the opposite hill, her back to the twin icons lodged into the tree behind her. "HAKKERSKALDYR!" She plants her feet, presents her shield, and lays her blade across its rim, pointing down the hill at the opposing creature, her mantle flaring around her brightly as the thorns and weeds wither in the sudden summer heat and cries of unseen ravens.
Vorpal sees the horrid, creeping shadow moving in those obscenely unnatural manners, and her shadows immediately deposit that throwing knife they've been toying with into her left hand. "Go. Gogogo, move!" She leaps into action, exploding across the distance, eating up the space between her and the creature trying to outpace Sigrun to the Icons. She angles her path, shadowy carving slashes from Sigknifr ripping through the air and Thorns ahead of her as she tilts her trail to hack across the path of the Shade, hurling strikes back its way and doing her best to slow its advance and ensure Sigrun's arrival on top.
Sturm is quite fast... Well. Once she manages to get started, pick up speed, and let momentum take over. She tears off after the creature like a bat out of hell - crushing obstacles, wrenching the thorns out of her way, and barreling through anything bold enough to plant itself in her path. A tremendous, gutteral noise with no intelligible meaning escapes her lungs as she tries her best to keep up with her foe - and her comrades.
Glitch takes off alongside the others, tucking his sword down at his side with the blade holding back. When Sturm and Sigrun take the lead, propelled perhaps by fate itself, or their own will rejecting its designs, he stops trying to hack his way through the hedge and falls in behind them, running at rapid pace across the cleared path they leave before the thorns have a chance to grow back. He comes to a halt a bit before actually reaching them, turning around to ready his crackling weapon against their pursuer.
But is it one of Odin's creatures? Or do Sigrun's assumptions bruise her actions once again? She turns her back to the Icons as the thing races her to the destination, blowing past several of her motleymates and her erstwhile fellow escapee, and at the moment when she turns her shield toward the horrific shadowy thing, the clawed fingers splay out in front of it, reaching for her--
-- reaching? ---
--no, splaying behind its back--
--sister?--
--sister?--
--sister?--
--and the wings -- the hands? -- the wings, the wings, the wings -- stretch dark across the space between Sigrun and the rest of those who follow her--
--as the inky shape opens up from the inside in a blossom of pearlescent light as the world seems to fragment and fracture--
--and the sound is not a scream now but a sigh -- is not anger but relief --
-- sister, sister, sister --
--not everyone who escapes makes it home --
-- sister--
-- And everyone still racing for the Icons watches the light from the blossoming Hedge Ghost burst outward and upward, knitting in with the light from the Icons, as the Ghost's final gift -- final judgement? -- lights the arrow and the slip of shimmering cloth cut in the shape of wings and a soul --
The Hedge goes silent. The Hedge opens like a hope chest. The Hedge sobs raggedly, the sound of breath caught in the ears, panting hard. The scent of blood, the vomitous taste of anger in the mouth.
A deep and distant voice, like Sturm's, but pitched lower and more masculine. "JUST KILL ME!" A blossoming well of self-loathing in every breast, the echo of a self-hatred that poisons every heartbeat and gnaws the edges of sleep. Just kill me, I hate this body, I hate this body, I hate myself.
"You first," hisses Sigrun's voice, echoing from every tree. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore."
"Fuck you." Low, distrustful, that Jotunn growl. Memories rattling in every skull. "You first," Sigrun answers. "Don't hit me. I won't hit you anymore if you don't hit me."
The Ghost fades away with an echo of old speech, an overlap of Sigrun and old-Sturm's voices. Who said it first?
"I'm a person. I'm not one of His. I'm real. Let me help you."
She skids to a halt, kicking up dirt and facing the back of the shadow as it seems to speak. And then it's gone and she growls cautiously, approaching Sigrun but listening as voices echo in repeat of the past.
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 4 dice and got 0 successes. 4 6 7 6
Vorpal jerks to a stop as light detonates and washes sharp across the field of contest. The shines of her eyes narrow, nearly vanish, distrustful of such unheralded brightness, but the voices it shares, the feelings it exhumes? Those are harder to reject. The moment, it seems, when enemies became allies, echoing off the thorns, exposing such a vulnerable moment. She straightens in place, the chase over, marking her allies visually, ensuring each is whole and hale while the scene plays out on strands of emotion and sound and sensation. This isn't time to interrupt. She stays silent.
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 7 dice and got 2 successes. 1 8 4 5 9 3 4
When the blot of sharpened shadows and dark wings blows past him towards Sigrun, while running almost full tilt, he grimaces, but doesn't stop. There's the slightest pause when the explosion of light goes off, and he doesn't stop...tries not to, tries to speed up, to reach the blast and Sigrun, not knowing what it may be. Every step after that falls slower, and slower, until he's trudging forward with his face set in an intense grimace. "Fuck. Fuck, no, stop. STOP," he yells, seemingly to nobody, as he keeps slowly shoving one foot in front of the other, looking like he's wading through invisible quicksand.
When attack isn't what results from the convergence of Sigrun and the shadowy thing, June stops trying to make a headling rush directly for the treasures they came here to collect, but keeps advancing. When the voices and the light show starts she falters in her steps and briefly shields her eyes as they adjust to the glare. Making sense of what's going on takes time, only a few moments, but enough time for things to roll on before her mind has caught up with the last thing. "Holy fuck," she says in a hushed voice, expression one of quiet shock.
After a moment she lurches into motion again, heading toward Sigrun. "Fuckity fuck," she mutters before calling out a desperate, "Sigrun! Sturm!"
When you're an angel of death, you get sort of inured to this business. People not making it back. People dying, just at the precipice of freedom. There but for the blessings of Freyja. Sigrun keeps her shield raised as the ghost surges up towards her, her weapon still trained on the thing even when it calls her sister. Was it Byrnhildr? Sigrdrifa? Svava? Kara? Hrist? Mist? Skeggjold? One of a score other names she knew before she knew why she knew them. Only when the ghost washes over her and dissipates does her guard slowly and cautiously lower, her blade shivering in her grip with adrenaline and more complex, ineffable emotions. It's one thing to relive your trauma. It's quite another to have everyone see it, too. She wavers a bit on her feet and sinks down to her left knee, resting her shield in the dirt in the process.
Momentum is about the only thing carrying Sturm at this point - and she slides further along her intended trajectory, even though her joints seem to have locked up, and are refusing to carry her forward. There's a split second where it looks like she might lose it, but if there's anything Sturm is good at, it's pretending like nothing is wrong when everything is wrong. There's a creak of metal against metal as she clenches her fists, preparing herself for the terrifying and inevitable ordeal she's going to have to endure in front of everyone. Oh yeah, and thank fuck for helmets, amirite?
The memories keep unfurling and unfolding, drowning the moment, the now, in the past, in layers and waves.
"I'll bring the Horn," comes Sigrun's voice, somehow crystalline and more sickeningly perfect. Somehow so perfect that it's wrong. "I have a plan."
The heavy thud of fist against bodies, the sound of heavy footfalls, every step choked by a mixture of self-hatred and the thinnest silver thread of hope, a taste so long-forgotten and so newly-rediscovered. Massive blue fingers closed around a horn carved with runes and knotwork, glowing with the weight of mythic importance. A Jotunn raid: not the first, but the last that Sigrun and Sturm would ever live through.
The grumbling sound of an old man's voice: "And what do you ask, in return for this deed?"
Again that crystalline voice, and the brief flicker of the Horn, returned to Odin's hand: "I ask no greater honor than to serve your hall and to do so with the horn you treasure so you might see it as you dream this night."
Bodies lay in a tumble, not dead but sleeping, strewn around the Great Hall in an opiate haze. (Or does her father sleep off another case of Yuengling in that old chair still in her front room?)
Sigrun streaks across the sky like a comet for Sturm to follow --
-- no, it's an old beater, and her brother left, her brother never came home, her brother and his old car got free of that old drunk fuck --
-- and one of them remained with Dad. And one of them didn't get free.
The light recedes. The memories fade. The motley stands together, at the base of the tree.
Sigrun remains on her knee, holding herself up by her shield and her sword arm resting on her bent leg. It's a lot to take in when it's not about you. But it's doubly so when it is. She looks a bit like Chris Hemsworth on his way to meet the Master. Confused, paralyzed, wavering between horror and wonder. The hits just keep on coming. And as the vision in her mind shows the sprawled bodies of the einherjar and Odinn himself, Sigrun slowly pushes back to her feet again, lifts her shield back to the ready and reaffirms her grip on her blade. She beat the old wise one at his own game. They both did. Slowly, she eases her blade back into its sheathe and turns towards the tree, grasping the glowing effigy of her wings, waiting for Sturm to reach the arrow. In the end as in the beginning, they'll have to do this together.
Laura stops where she is, watching and waiting and letting Sturm and Sigrun share this discovery. But she still watches Sigrun, waiting in case she's needed.
In some ways it actually helps for June that these images are so different than her own Durance. There's not much in the way of things for her mind to latch onto as reminders, nothing that deeply recalls things that she experienced. If it was something that hadn't happened to real people, to people she knows, to people she cares deeply about or even loves, it might not have the most emotional impact on her at all.
But it is far closer to home than that, and she has too much empathy not to put herself at least a little bit in their shoes. When she reaches her companions there's not so much she can really do other than be there. Thank goodness for helmets, because nobody can see the expression, or the tears, on her face.
Yep. Thank fuck for helmets. Otherwise someone might see the twisted mixture of guilt and sadness on Sturm's face - and that would be embarrassing. That metal-on-metal groan happens again as she clenches her massive fists so tightly that it seems the gauntlets may not stand up to the force. All the things she'd felt bubble up to the surface in the wake of meeting Sigrun now battering at the dam in her skull, threatening to break free and swallow her. It's slow to happen, but - just like when they were There - she makes the decision to follow. It's damn-near an act of will for the Jotunn to relax her bone-crushing grip... and reach out for the arrow's splintered shaft - to tug it from it's target - and free the piece of Sigrun's soul that it'd pinned in place all those years ago.
Johnnie knows just bits and pieces of all this. Not even entirely enough to string everything together. She's not sure who the drunk fellow with the memories of malice attached is- she could guess, but that seems rude as shit since appearances are all she has to play with. She's pretty sure she knows who Sigrun- with her too-perfect voice and her too-smooth lie- is speaking to. But the ache at the end? That bittersweet moment of watching someone else escape a hell you're still trapped in?
She can relate to that. But hers aren't accompanied by quiet, gentle fades. Hers end with short, sharp tugs on strands woven through insides and essence, ripping her through a haze of pain right back to where it all began. She ends up next to Sturm. Watching Sigrun. Bearing witness. It's horrific to watch. Worse for the closeness. She looks around, just once. For Teagan.
They've been invisible and unseen for all this time, but there's a time and a place to be present visibly, and not just... lurking. The Mirrorskin appears, between June and Johnnie, standing quietly, hands tucked into their pockets. This isn't Teagan's moment, but they know they have to be here for it.
After a moment and seeing Sigrun drop to her knee, Laura approaches, headbutting her lightly and taking a protective posture nearby. A quiet nod to Teagan.
Glitch follow Laura, joining the others as Sigrun and Sturm stand holding that which they all came here for. He's very quiet, head tilted down a bit, shades on. One hand briefly rubs at his nose, but he looks up at Sigrun and gives a firm little nod, lest anyone think he's not ok.
Sigrun catches the tattered shreds of her soul in the palm of her sword hand. It's a bit too big, too awkward to rest in it easily, and so Sigrun's shield is dropped to the ground where it wobbles to rest, unnoticed. She cradles the thing as delicately as she's ever nursed any of her found family, though her hands are trembling now. She turns about, holding it in her hands, in order to face the gallery of those that were hair-brained enough to come along with her on this suicidal enterprise. And after briefly putting her soul on display, she lifts it up towards the sky. Or what passes for it here.
"FREYJA! LOOK AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE! FREYJA, SEE ME!" She shakes it at the heavens, the tatters of wings flopping about in her hands. She lowers it again, then hugs it to herself, willing it back into herself. Alas, she has to survive the return trip for that to happen.
This is one of those moments where June doesn't really know what to do other than stand sentry and feel joy for the triumph of the people she cares about, so that's what she does. The declaration to Freyja doesn't seem like something she should interrupt, after all.
In very stark contrast, Sturm does the opposite. She looks down at the ruined, bloody arrow for a long - absolutely silent - while, before enclosing it in the palm of her mailed fist. The next breath she takes is ragged - probably from the fuckin' effort it took to get this far. Not that anybody'd really know for sure. Slowly, she reaches for a pouch at her belt, tucking the icon safely away - somewhere from further prying eyes.
This is another one of those moments where it looks like she'd shove her hands into her pockets if she had them. Alas, she doesn't, so Sturm just... awkwardly hovers - fists clenched - with her arms at her sides.
Johnnie's shadows spread out. Sigrun, Teagan, June, Sturm, Glitch, Laura- she's a shadow for each, and each has a hand pressed somewhere appropriate- between Sturm's shoulderblades, both of June's shoulders, Laura's haunch, and at both shoulder and waist for Glitch, Sigrun and Teagan. Truthfully, it'd be the same for June, but her waist requires stooping, and she's really trying not to inject any accidental comedy here.
RealJohnnie?
She nods, once, to Sturm and to Sigrun, when she can catch their eyes, and then she's turning, looking for the jutting stone to finish triangulating the path to Sigrun's shield.
Sigrun is making her offering to the sky, and Teagan's smile slides across their face, an awkward, lopsided thing. It's joy, tempered by having just seen people they're oathed to, people they care about desperately, in their moments of most extreme suffering. They open their mouth as if to say something, and then they catch Sturm's body language. A glance aside to June, though the red panda's face is hidden in her helmet, and to Laura, before Teagan quietly steps over to stand in front of Sturm. Long-fingered black-skinned hands fold over top of her clenched fists, almost willing them to open and be held by Teagan, at least for a moment. "Too late," they murmur. "We saw. You have Feelings." The tone is somewhat amused, but gentle.
Everyone is very quiet, especially after Sigrun's triumphant cry to the heaven. That's unfortunate, because it means everyone can hear Glitch sniffling and snorting. The Sprite stands there with tears almost-silently running down the pixels of his face, mouth set in a stiff line, trying as hard as he can to not interrupt things with his secondhand hedge-feelings. He snorts in a big deep breath right before Sturm replies to Teagan, and then just kind of looks to the side.
Sigrun's appeal to her chosen goddess concluded, she carefully tucks the tatters of her soul away in a belt pouch, stoops to gather up her round shield, and once more tugs the blade from her side, weighing it briefly in her hand until it's once more familiar. "Assuming the lay of the land hasn't changed much... You saw the shield land... where? I was busy colliding with the ground at the time." They're not out yet, but one can clearly see the weight lifted from Sigrun's shoulders having made it even this far.
@Spider (they/them) rolled 4 dice and got 1 success. 10(2) 3 7 3
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 6 dice and got 1 success. 6 5 6 3 5 8
@Werewife (Memento/Sledge/Sturm) rolled 1 dice and got 0 successes. 2
@Spider (they/them) rolled 3 dice and got 4 successes. 1 8 10(10)(8)
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 4 dice and got 1 success. 6 10(4) 5 7
@Untitled Goose Admin (she/her) rolled 2 dice and got 1 success. 7 9
@Vorpal/Wren/Cory (She/Her x3) rolled 4 dice and got 0 successes. 7 1 6 3
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 6 dice and got 5 successes. 10(10)(5) 1 6 4 10(10)(2) 8
Don't let this luck go to waste, @AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They).
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 2 dice and got 0 successes. 7 5
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 4 dice and got 1 success. 8 4 2 5
@AdHoc (Mage/Civ Soc) (They) rolled 2 dice and got 0 successes. 1 5
@Glitch (He/Him) rolled 3 dice and got 0 successes. 3 3 1
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