What You Take With You part II: Reflections In The Fog

[unpocoloco]

Who: All those on the What You Take With You mission and everyone else (who OOCly wishes to join in)
What: An important artifact is brought back only to immedaitely activate. Further details are here.
When: November 10th
Where: Daybreak Campus and around Soliel
Warning: Warn in headers as appropriate

On November 10th the recovery team sent into the Outlands makes their return with the obsidian mirror. Thus far it hasn't seemed any different than any other obsidian mirror, nothing spectacular about it beyond its age and where it came from. But Daybreak was only called to retrieve it, not anything more. The spell is worked to open the path between the Outlands and Daybreak, allowing them back. But as this happens, the mists rise up as they often do when the two worlds intersect. The team might even see it ghosting over the mirror before catching their own reflections in it. A light flashes over its surface and in that instant, the mirror activates.

Just one look in any reflective surface throughout Soliel-- a mirror, a window, a bit still water-- and people will be struck with sudden dizziness, a feeling of being knocked back, and then darkness. You'll find, on waking, a dark and desolate landscape full of smoke and fog. It'll be hard to tell where one is going. You won't be alone. People all over the academy have been brought into this vision. You may run into them, but even more likely, you'll run into the spots of color that cut through the fog.

And dwelling with this color? Why it's you. But better. Or maybe, much, much worse. It seems the mirror has something to show you. But is that something a promise? Or a threat...? Learn its lesson and you may escape both the shadowy realm and a terrible fate in your future. What image will you leave on the world?

Comments

[unpocoloco]

[There's another sharp breath as shock hits hard. Ricky couldn't speak. Ricky never spoke. He didn't-- Couldn't--

He's calling for his Dad... It's a pang in his heart, one that twists.]

No, no, Ricky, it's... it's me. You remember, I played guitar and-- ay!

[And there's a weasel grabbing his pant leg, tugging it.]

Hey, hey, let go...!

[He tries to shake it off without kicking it, glancing from it to the fog. Ricky's still out there.]

Ricky!

[deuteranope]

[The weasel chitters unhappily, but relents, letting go of Héctor in favor of scrambling beneath his feet, zipping back and forth to trip him up. Like a whisper, especially in comparison to the whimpering boy, a more familiar voice hisses,]

Don’t fucking trust it. Héctor, trust me, follow the weasel.

[Of course, the voice — Maverick’s, no doubt about it — is also coming...from the weasel...]

H — Hello...? I wan — I want my daddy...

[unpocoloco]

[He starts forward towards the boy the moment he's released, only to stop and have to side step as the creature tries to get underfoot.]

Stop! Go away!

[He hisses as much to it when it speaks back.]

What...?!

[Maverick. That's Maverick. Maverick is a weasel but Ricky is there and speaking, pleading, crying...]

Maverick, it's Ricky. He needs help, he needs someone... He wants his father, Maverick, I can't just leave him...!

[deuteranope]

[The spectral weasel huffs, finally coming to a stop in front of the man with a firm stance and straight, alert tail.]

That thing ain’t me, and quite frankly you’re gonna owe me an apology for that when I get you outta this mess, come on. He’s playing you!

[Hrmn. For being so concerned, it sure is taking this random music man a while to come over to him. Ricky covers a sigh with a quaking, shuddering few breaths he didn’t need to take and starts to head towards the direction the voice had come from. It makes the smoky fur along the weasel’s spine glitter hard like stars, raising up.]

Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s coming... [The weasel goes back to pulling at his pant leg.] Listen up, he ain’t gonna be happy with you, so you wanna get back to your daughter? Drop the meat suit and let’s go!

[unpocoloco]

[Questioning his trust in Ricky doesn't leave much room for trusting the weasel. Assuming one is something terrible leading him into a trap really doesn't help him place much confidence in the other.

He's just a boy...

But the crying stops. The weasel gives one last warning. It's the mention of Coco that takes him. Coco always comes first.

The fog lights with the power in him reflecting upon. He wears down to bones and in the same instant, turns to follow the after the weasel. He thinks apologies in his head to the kid he's leaving behind but reminds himself it's not the first time.]

[deuteranope]

[Ricky picks up his pace, not quite to a run but unnaturally fast for a walk, once he sees the the lights through the fog. With something to focus on, surely he would come across the man sooner rather than later -- but there's nothing for him, when he reaches the spot. And there's no sign of a human just out of sight but available to his other senses, either. He scowls to himself, but... Well. He's wasting time. If he goes back to wandering around crying his eyes out, he's sure to lure someone in soon enough.

Someone would come help.

They always did.

He's just a boy.

The weasel winds its way through the mist, confident in where it's going even though there were no landmarks to be seen. Everything was the same...although maybe "away" is the objective, simple as that. It moves quickly, leaving behind a faint trail of stardust that dissipates as Héctor catches up, but stops when his limp causes it to get too far ahead. Rescuing him from the kid wouldn't mean squat if he just lost him again in the fog.

Not that it was likely, how he was. At a safe distance away, the weasel slows and trots in an expectant circle, rather than moving forward. Another beat, and there's a teenage boy with ginger hair under a witch's hat stepping out from a cloudy patch above and landing in front of Héctor with a cheery hop and wave. No mournful feelings here about leaving behind little Ricky.]

Jesus, dude. Falling for that? Do I really gotta explain why that's dumb as hell?

[He seems happy, though, and genuinely relieved to see the skeleton. The weasel scurries up Maverick's leg to huddle up next to his neck with a soft chitter.]

Whatever would you do without me...

[unpocoloco]

[The guilt and uncertainty continue to eat at him but he keeps pace behind the shimmering weasel. As well as he can that is, on his limp. He wants to trail his fingers through that stardust, fascinated with it, but more than that he wants to know what the heck is going on.

Maverick's sudden appearance, to say nothing of his appearance, doesn't help this much. He gapes for a long moment.]

You... might need to explain because I am really confused right now. Where did you come from? What just happened? Ricky and you and a weasel and... your hat?

[Sure he's wearing his own straw hat but still.]

[deuteranope]

What? What's wrong with my hat?

[He reaches up to check on it with both hands, patting gently at it until he's satisfied that it's no more or less shabby than usual. It's then that the rest of the questions catch up to him and he pulls a bit of a face.

Ah.]

Oh goddammit...

[He must be that other Maverick's Héctor, or something... If he thinks about that, it makes sense, because he remembers that even with all his memories and feelings and everything he's learned, he can't...really remember a world outside the fog. He knows what it looks like, and a handful of people he loved from there, but he doesn't think it actually...existed.

Well. It isn't the time to dwell on that.]

First things first... That kid was definitely a vampire. Probably got turned instead of escaping, like I did, thank fucking god. I mean, he talks. Fucking weird.

[unpocoloco]

[His hands go out.]

No! No, it's a cool hat! It's just, ah, not the sort of thing I'm used to seeing you in?

[Though it soon seems like Maverick's moved on to greater disappointments. He shuffles in place. And then stills as Maverick goes on.]

Ricky's a vampire?

[A version killed as a child.]

Oh god. The poor kid...

[But he doesn't suggest going back for him. Even if he wants to.]

So... you. You have a magic weasel?

[deuteranope]

"Poor kid" my ass. He wanted to eat you, dumbass! He's made his choices.

[Once upon a time Ricky's fate would have been sad, but nowadays? Kid was being exactly the monster he'd been so afraid of, in another life. Fuck him.

Magic weasel is much more important, and Maverick grins, not being mindful of the fangs at all, and holds his arm out for the critter to run down and perch on his hand, where it starts sniffing out at Héctor. Hello!]

My familiar. Tía helped me figure out how to summon him with my own Mistwalker twist on it, so I named him Tamale. Fucking loooves Coco, lemme tell you.

[unpocoloco]

Not like he would've had much to drink from me.

[That's not the point but Héctor "bleeding heart" Rivera is not exactly going to frown his way into helping Ricky now.

Magic weasel it is. Once he's done blinking at the shock of fangs. And... pretty much everything else Maverick just said. He's tempted to pull off his skull and give it a rattle just to try and kick his brain into gear.]

I'm sorry you- what- you- hang on.

[He holds a hand up to ask a minute to process this, though that hand winds up close to the Weasel. It distracts him with its curious sniffing and, despite himself, he reaches out to smooth his boney hand over its fur.]

You... you've seen Coco. And this one, Tamale, has seen Coco. Imelda taught you summoning and...

[Almost, almost... click!]

Maverick, are you undead?

[deuteranope]

[Héctor is Héctor is Héctor, that's for sure. Despite being seemingly made primarily of mist, the weasel is soft to the touch and has the warmth of life in its sparkling body..

Maverick seems pleased with the absentminded interaction, but raises an eyebrow at the confusion. It really must be a lot, he supposes...but still. Get with it, old man.]

Ye-up. Have been for a couple years. [Mm... Sure, he'll take pity on him.] Mistwalker clan. That fucking kid really gives us vampires that don't wanna be complete dickheads a bad name.

[unpocoloco]

[Wierd misty sparkle fur. But hey, Imelda's cat was a violently rainbow chimera. It's one of the lesser left field things that could happen.

As opposed to that.]

I- Oh.

[He gapes a little. It's a full minute before he shakes himself.]

I'm sorry, I just... wow. I never would have thought that you would... [He laughs.] Even saying you don't want to be a complete dickhead is kind of a surprise. [That's a tease. Mostly to make way for asking.] Are you okay with that? Being a vampire?

[deuteranope]

[That's how ya get 'em. Fuck, other Mav must really have issues...not that he can blame him. He'd been the same way. It sure does make interacting with his friends awkward as fuck when they cease functioning for this long, though.]

Eh. [Maverick shrugs, and the weasel scurries back up his arm to nuzzle at his jaw reassuringly.] Wasn't always. If we're gonna fucking be real, meeting you fucking helped get my head on straight. Besides, now I can do cool tricks and I'm hot forever! Fuck those bitches that say "you'll regret all those tattoos when you're older," I'm gonna laugh at your funerals.

[There's some forced positivity there, but in general? ...Yeah, he seems awkwardly okay with being okay.]

[unpocoloco]

[It's a tell, that little weasel. He used to notice it with Pepita too. Whenever Imelda felt uncertain, there she'd be winding around her legs. He can hear what's forced but... he can also hear what isn't.]

That must have been a really rough change. It was hard for me even, and you had so much more to deal with. And yet you still got it together. [He reaches out and knocks his bare knuckles to Maverick's shoulder.] Proud of you, kid.

Now, tell me about those tricks. You know I've been dying to show you mine.

[He cracks a grin.]

[deuteranope]

[He rolls his eyes and there's an awkward shift, but his reaction is much less extreme than the embarrassed bluster Héctor May have come to expect. He matches the grin reflexively, and punctuates it with a laugh. Dying, ha... But also,]

Your Maverick sounds like no fucking fun. I'd never deny my Héctor a chance to show off. [just casually shittalking yourself, nbd.

Maverick rocks back on his heels, only he doesn't...bounce back onto his toes again. He falls like he's expecting someone to be there to catch him, but when he's past the point of being able to recover himself, he poofs into mist instead. A second later, the boy pops back into existence, crouched down with his arms folded on his knees. Tamale stands proudly on top of his hat. His voice is comically gruff when he speaks, but he can't keep himself from smiling like a dork.]

I am the night.

[unpocoloco]

[It's fun, playing along with these things. It makes it easier, makes it normal, which he truly thinks it should be. Maybe their kind of death isn't natural but death itself is.

He's still grinning but he waves off the shit-talking.]

Ah, it's alright, I still love the kid.

[But now he's watching, resisting the urge to move when Maverick starts to fall. It's a close one. At the last second he jerks forward, but then Maverick poofs.

He laughs with surprise at the reappearance. And then again, louder, at the Batman impersonation. And what a great smile he sees.]

Shoot, Maverick, now how am I supposed to top that?