daybreakacademy | [Open] The Mark of the Herald

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[Open] The Mark of the Herald

Mark of the Herald Part I
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Despite certain disruptive events and ominous visions in the preceding month, August is seemingly still free of any problems.

That’s quick to change, however. Starting from the third of the month, strange, circular marks begin to appear on human students around the school - and, indeed, humans around the world. Those affected begin to feel incurably drowsy, something that no magical or mundane solution can seem to cure or relieve; eventually, they’ll fall asleep entirely, whether they want to or not, and enter a state of magical stasis. Not even nonhumans are immune, though whether they’re marked seems to be much more erratic.

Those who remain awake or are otherwise spared by the mark are free to do as they wish - the Academy won’t ask them to do more than keep themselves safe. But where each marked person falls in slumber, a portal will form; a strange tear in reality, offering glimpses of a surreal, nightmarish plane that differs vastly from individual to individual. One thing is certain; the cause of a victim’s seemingly endless sleep and these portals are linked somehow, and the only way to find out exactly how is to go through...and the only ones capable of doing so are those who are still awake.

This log can be used as a catch-all for event-related threads. The information for this event is here.

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[Avery's smile falters. Ekke sounds so distant, and the way he wavers... It's disconcerting.

...Right. He's here to wake him up, isn't he?

And it probably won't do him any good to stick around too long in a burning building either.

He holds out his hand to Ekkehardt's projection.]

Come on, sleepyhead. All this heat is starting to get to you.

[ That gets another laugh, but it's weaker than the last. ] Well, I don't really feel it. You know that.

[ He has to concentrate to keep that projection together; they're weak things, all of his fragility and none of the benefits that make him less so. It would be much easier to let it burn, to reform it in the next part of the maze...it flutters and singes, while he has those thoughts, just for a moment.

Then, he concentrates on what little he can feel through the shadow as he takes Avery's hand and lets the other man lead it through the doorway.

This next part is the corridors of a house Avery might remember seeing in a more pleasant dream; oddly plain, for all the colourful decorations that hang on its walls and decorate everything. But there's no colour to it now; just a sense of claustrophobia, the cloying sense of being hunted.

It's dark. ]

Ah. I know this one. [ His voice is guarded, almost brittle. ]

[There's something familiar about this. Not personally, but something long, long ago, and something secondhand.

He thinks he remembers speaking to Ekkehardt when he "was a child" -- the result of that inner child spell that had been cast on the campus nearly a year ago. Ekkehardt had spent much of the time hiding. He'd asked why once, and there was something about a monster and a massacre. The details are hazy, but clear enough that he's able to recognize something of the conversation in this memory.

He thinks he feels something searching for him.

His chest tightens. This time not for Ekke's sake.]

Don't suppose you'd remember the easiest way out of this joint?

That depends on if this wretched dream cooperates with me.

[ He sounds annoyed, though poking through the annoyance is a rare sign of Ekkehardt actually sounding anxious. The shadow leads Avery through twisting corridors that are stifling and too large all at once, like they're being seen from a child's perspective.

At times, they have to stop. Light flickers through open doorways, then is promptly blocked by something that feels both sickeningly wrong and sickeningly powerful, lumbering past.

Sometimes there's screaming, or the signs of a fight, or blood leaking into the corridors. There are, mercifully, no bodies. ]

How do you feel about tight spaces?

Edited 2020-08-23 05:27 (UTC)

["Better than you," he wants to say, but knows better. Jokes are fine, but this is different. He knows that much.]

If I can get through the water, I can get through whatever else you need me to.

[As long as it keeps him away from whatever shadow is on the other side. And as long as there's no more ice.]

[ He'd just shrug and say that it was accurate, really. But he appreciates that Avery doesn't joke about it; this memory, far in the past though it is, is a vulnerable piece of him that most people never see. ]

You might not like this next part, regardless.

[ Here they are; a room he remembers better than the others, with a closet he can open. No matter how much he tries to think about it objectively, to him it only has room for one person.

He swings the doors open, and gestures.

The feeling of being hunted, that pressure, only increases.

(Now, again, it only has room for one person.) ]

[It's small. Only one of them is going to fit--at full size, anyway.]

You first.

[It's said quickly, and with no room for argument.]

I'll figure out the rest once you're in.

You're the one who's actually here.

[ If he still had a heart, it would be beating fast. He remembers this all too well, in its terrible clarity. There's the feeling of time slowing down, in the way that seconds seem to become longer under pressure.

He's a projection. The most he'll suffer is a dispersal. He grabs Avery's arm with all the force he can muster in this form, trying to convince him otherwise. ]

[He stubbornly digs his heels in and glares at Ekkehardt.]

No, what you seem to be forgetting is that I'm the one who can shapeshift, you self-sacrificing fool.

[ Normally he'd argue and dig his heels in further but, well, there's a simple reason he doesn't want to be the first in, a simple reason he doesn't want to be pushed away, closed in, made helpless again like before.

(It's a weakness. He shouldn't reveal it. It's something that can be used against him.

But if he doesn't say it, if Avery guesses it, then it's not saying it out loud. Then it's fine. Maybe.) ]

Fine. Fine. [ He's not a child any more; it's been years, decades. Surely - surely - he can face this spectre that's always clung to him, this faceless thing that haunted him throughout his childhood. ] Then I stay out here. With you.

[ The knife is in his hand before he even consciously thinks about it. The crashing noises in the distance are getting closer. ]

Edited 2020-08-24 04:12 (UTC)

[Avery scowls.

Really. They could have both been safe in there, but instead they're going to go up against the wolves on their own?

He sighs and shakes his head.

Ekke really doesn't want to go in, does he?]

If it makes you feel better, I've probably killed way more people than tall, dark, and spooky out there.

[He lifts his hands and waits]

What makes me feel better is getting this over with. [ Ekkehardt doesn't look at him; there's a note of shame in his his voice, a rare thing for him.

They don't have to wait long. The monster that crashes into the room is a distorted creature, tattered and warped, with a gaping mouth that opens up to reveal nothing but darkness. Bright-patterned cloth and bloodstained braids decorate it like macabre trophies. It can't seem to decide on the number of limbs it wants to have, but all of them are reaching out.

Ekkehardt's silhouette flits into battle. In a dream, his knife is always as sharp as he wants it to be; it slices off reaching claws and limbs like it was made for the purpose.

(When backed into a corner, he always bites back. He can't afford to do anything else, not when he is the protector, rather than the protected.) ]

[Ah.

So Ekkehardt's beyond even quips now.

And then Avery sees the monstrous shadow enter, and the second he sees the braids, he understands.

Gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes, he focuses on a point behind the beast, a large magic circle drawing itself into being. His gaze flits briefly over at Ekkehardt, hoping that he sees it before it goes off.

He doesn't want to take the chance that this hulking beast can understand them.]

[ Even if he hadn't seen it, he knows Avery's magic well enough to react quickly.

But he sees it. There's plenty of time to react, since Ekkehardt is trying to focus on anything else except the irregular patches of the monster that signify what it means to him; the way his gaze darts and flicks around is proof of that.

When the magic detonates, the monster is too distracted with him to notice; it all but vaporizes in the blast.

There's a ringing silence. Ekkehardt's shadow backs up against the wall; even though he's not there-there, it's still overwhelming. He can't seem to say anything. ]

[Avery doesn't move at first, still tensed, glaring at the spot where the creature was, as if daring it to come back.

He only moves once he's sure nothing will return (or at least that they have enough of an opening to put some distance between them and it), and then he's by Ekkehardt's side, reaching out to grab a shoulder and urge him along.]

Come on. We need to get out of here.

[ He stumbles against Avery; the shadow of him almost dissipates again. He's annoyingly frail in this form, part of him thinks, the subconscious and slumbering part still trapped somewhere, waiting to be rescued.

The cupboard still waits, an open door. It's easy to go through, and fall through - Avery will find himself landing on the foaming surface of a crimson lake, though thankfully he doesn't have to swim this time.

Rusted, bloodstained implements poke out of the frothing water like macabre landmarks. In the middle of the lake, almost too distant to be seen, there's something metal, hanging in chains.</small. ]

[He heads into the cupboard and grumbles when he nearly falls forward onto (into?) the lake, thankful for whatever dream logic keeps him from the rusty tools below.

Whatever this is supposed to be, he's not sure, and he huffs as he wonders just how deep into this hellhole Ekkehardt's managed to get himself into.

But then he looks up. And he sees it. And his blood runs cold.

What they faced before was nothing, a beast to be killed, a creature far harsher to Ekkehardt than to Avery himself. But this... He wouldn't be surprised if this particular obstacle tried to claim him, and it makes his stomach turn.]

[ The shadow takes his hand, gently tugging him forward. ]

Come. This is my coffin, not yours.

[ >He's trying to be reassuring, though he's not sure how good a job of it he's doing. It's always harder to reassure Avery than anyone else, despite (or perhaps) of how close they are.

(It's harder to use the little white lies and half-truths for him, the things that so many others need in one moment to the next. Their relationship is far from those sweeteners, in some respects.) ]

Right. Yours.

[He takes a deep breath through his nose and squares his shoulders, head held high as though that abhorrent little moment of weakness didn't happen, walking at a pace meant to disguise and discourage whatever hesitation lingers in his traitorous heart.

Open the coffin, find what comes next.

That's all he has to do. The same thing he's been doing this whole time.]

[ The chains are firmly secured, leading into a metal container that looks more like a medieval torture device than any kind of casket or coffin. It swings, with the occasional creak, suspended from unseen anchor points high above the lake, as if cradled by a slight breeze.

There are locks, but the moment Avery makes an attempt to open it, the locks crack and fall into the water.

The shadow that's been guiding him is gone as if it was never there; there's no need for the projection, now that he's found its source. There's no other doors this time; Ekkehardt, his face in shadow, wreathed and shackled in chains, is bound inside. Perfectly still.

The only question is what to do in order to wake him up.
]

[Avery's stomach turns, the sight of all the shackles and chains making his chest tighten.

It's not him there, he knows, but seeing someone else in that position isn't much better in the end.

He reaches in, both to try and remove the chains and to shake Ekkehardt awake.]

[ It would be almost expected if the chains tried to seize him, yank him down or try to imprison him.

They remain completely inert, if stubbornly heavy to push aside. The more Avery looks, the more details on the shackles and chains become clear; symbolic scenes of grasping, clutching hands and blood being spilled.

The more he touches them, however, the more they begin to rust and crumble away. Ekkehardt is still, seemingly, completely inert despite the shaking, though every time a shackle breaks or cracks, he stirs like he's struggling to wake up. ]

[He growls.

This would be so much easier if he could just blow up the damn thing and somehow leave Ekkehardt intact!

He pauses to ram into the side of the casket with his shoulder, more out of frustration than anything else, then returns to digging him free.]

[ The combination of movement from digging out the chains and hitting the casket has an unexpected effect; the entire thing tips violently, dumping Ekkehardt out unceremoniously.

There's a moment of ringing silence as chains and shackles clatter to the ground all around him, and then he sits up, eyes glowing. It's so absurdly abrupt that for a moment, all he can do is cover his face and laugh. ]

[He winces when Ekkehardt hits the floor, and little by little he cracks open an eye to watch as he... laughs?

...

Not what he expected there, but at least he's awake.

Avery visibly relaxes and folds his arms.]

Have a nice nap there, sleepyhead?

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spelleton - 2020-08-28 09:59 (UTC) - Expand

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