magic, madness, heaven, sin

[reddosmod]

JULY 2022 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A statue of Lady Justice with her sword against a man's throat. ]
[Image Two: A pair of hands covered in blood. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Two people trying to reach one another being pulled back by multiple, disembodied hands. ]
[Image Two: A feminine figure lying on a boardwalk above the ocean. ]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A pair of black scales held by a statue. ]
[Image Two: A single hand reaching up from the water, implying drowning. ]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

GOOD AND EVIL

WHEN: July
WHERE: All over
CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, revenge, possible torture, possible death, mental manipulation

---

An excerpt from the book Thus Comes the Reckoning:

Are we inherently good or evil? Are we hard-wired for empathy? Or is violent behavior our innate reaction when the world has done us wrong? This is something that has been debated for centuries, even in the times Before Sodder. Have we evolved since the Dreamless World? Since the Nightmare? Have the Pthumerians and their blessings made us more peaceful and understanding?

While it is true that our world is more generous and caring than the ones we have read about in the Dreamless World, where in spite of our shortages, we want for nothing that we truly need, the very existence of corruption and beasthood should speak of our true natures and of the true natures of Sleepers. There is no time that this is more prominent in our world than in the month of July, when the Reckoning holds sway.

It is unclear if it is the unbearable heat, the Pthumerian's influence, or perhaps just our true selves coming forth, but each July is the prelude to chaos. The pleasantries die off, the generosity wanes, and we forget the lessons of our more kind and gentle benefactors. Fist fights over minor disagreements, people attacking one another with weapons when they don't get their way or wait too long in line, and murders over the loss of a game. Does the summer make monsters of us all? Or does the Beast Moon simply encourage what is already inside of us?

Sleepers will find themselves encouraged towards violence. Many will be drawn to do evil. They will feel a pull to hurt others, particularly those who have hurt them first. Anger will seem like a natural state and many will find that they have lost all ability to reason when they become even minorly frustrated. Vigilante justice will seem like a great idea. Did someone hurt your loved one? Then tear them apart! Did a person borrow something from you and never return it? End them. Criminal activity will skyrocket, particularly violent criminal activity, throughout the month of July. People will feel more inclined to steal, to damage property, to kill, and to get revenge. Torturing others will seem like a perfectly reasonable idea. It is the month to do so and it might even feel good to hurt other people.

Sleepers will also feel violently protective of those they love. They will want to make sure that the violent crimes happening to other people doesn't happen to their people and they might go to such extremes as locking their loved ones up so that nothing can get to them. It's an obsessive need to protect and not let go. Someone might even feel so inclined as to kill their friends just to make sure that no one else can hurt them.

On the flip side, those who manage to resist the violent urges will be more inclined to help those who are violent. Even if you are someone who has never wanted to help another person, you will be drawn to do good. It's not impossible to talk others down, to sway them to being better people and to remembering who they are. It's just a lot of work. But still, those who are impacted by the good will feel that same need to protect others; only for them, it doesn't have to necessarily be someone they know. They want to do the right thing, to protect people from themselves. Unlike the evil, they will know there are limits, and they will not hurt others in their attempt to protect them. But they may end up being willing to, possibly uncharacteristically, sacrifice themselves to do so.

QUICK FACTS: 1. You can only be impacted by The Good or The Evil at one time. Someone who is Good can be corrupted into becoming Evil. If someone is talked down from being Evil, they can either go back to being their normal selves, or they can become impacted by The Good instead. This can happen as many times in the month as possible, but they can only be Good or Evil at one time. You can not be both at once.

2. Characters who can usually heal demons/possessions/etc. can cure Evil in people. Their powers will work the same as they would in their canon/from their blood powers. Game based items that would normally cure corruption however will NOT work to cure Evil. They will still work to cure corruption/beasthood.

3. The Reckoning can still punish you. Just because you're being influenced by outside forces won't matter to her. If she catches you doing something bad and it isn't for revenge purposes, she will punish you as she sees fit. This is left up to player interpretation.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

FORTUNE'S FOOL

WHEN: July
WHERE: All over
CONTENT WARNINGS: Star-Crossed lovers, encouraged suicidal ideation, possible death

---

Love. A complicated feeling that puts people into complicated circumstances. And yet, people will find themselves focused on this emotion more so than usual this month. For someone who is already in love, the emotions will become even stronger, almost overwhelming, wanting to burst out of them like a song. For those who were not in love before, they may find themselves suddenly easily falling for others. Maybe they will love multiple people or maybe just one, but love will be an all consuming emotion to those who fall victim to it.

The only problem is that love isn't always accepted. People who are deeply in love will suddenly start to feel persecuted and judged from those around them. They will feel as though their love is unallowed, that the person that means the most to them is being rejected by their family, their friends, by society itself. It doesn't matter if that's the truth: there's just something inside of people that makes them thoroughly convinced that their love is not meant to be. Star-Crossed. Unattainable.

There will be an increased urge to solidify that love as being real and unbreakable. Maybe this is done through fighting back against those who are saying no. Maybe it comes in the form of secretly saying vows and loved ones spiritually tying themselves together forever. Or maybe in the end, the only true way that lovers feel they can truly be together... is in death. All of these will seem like reasonable options— or maybe even the only option. Love is never ending, after all, even if life is.

QUICK FACTS: 1. Anyone can fall in love with anyone else. It doesn't have to be the character that you're already shipping with if all players agree! You can fall in love with someone you know, someone you've just met, or even a total stranger. Love is a gift to everyone, right??? Who needs pesky things like introductions.

2. You do not have to commit suicide. You can, of course, and many will definitely feel drawn to it with the basis of the prompt, but it is not required. Please make sure to mark all threads accordingly!

3. The persecution against your relationship does not have to be real. You can, however, tie this into the first prompt, and have even the smallest slights be reason to think that your love is persecuted. Similarly, people who are impacted by the first prompt may be more likely to actually shun those who are in love. Feel free to work with it however you see fit!

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

OUR OWN PRISONS

WHEN: July
WHERE: All over, but particularly by the ocean.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Self-hatred, judgement, suicidal ideation, homicidal ideation, possible drowning.

---

Everyone has personal flaws. Things about themselves they don't like, reactions they wish they didn't have, habits that they want to break. Sometimes the awareness of flaws can outweigh the awareness of our strengths as well. It's easy to get caught up in the feeling that we're less then perfect, that we'll never be able to fix ourselves no matter what we do.

This month, those feelings seem to be amplified. Sleepers will see flaws everywhere; in the people they love, in the Trenchies, and most heavily in themselves. Feelings of self-hatred and judgement will be amplified and even those who are usually confident in themselves will find that they're suffering from it. Sometimes these feelings may manifest as a simple bout of anger and depression; but for others, it can become more severe quickly.

Those who find themselves suffering heaviest from these feelings will feel called to the ocean. Maybe it's a desire to go back to a squid form, a place that's simpler and more straight forward. Or maybe it's the unbearable heat that's putting these thoughts in someone's head and they'll feel like going for a swim would cure it. But there's something inside everyone that knows that if they go into the ocean, they might not come back out again.

Sleepers will feel like the ultimate judgement is waiting for them out there. If they are seeing flaws more in themselves, being by the ocean will amplify feelings of suicide. If they're seeing flaws in everyone else, they might feel compelled to bring those people down to the ocean to drown them. The ocean, associated so heavily with rebirth, could be the very thing to cleanse people of their imperfections, after all. Maybe it would be a favor to everyone if someone just gave in and tried to fix themselves and others. For the good of Trench.

QUICK FACTS: 1. These feelings can cause people to become more corrupt. The longer they are exposed to these feelings, the closer they will get to high levels of corruption, and eventual beasthood.

2. Because these feelings can cause corruption, they can also be relieved through the same methods as corruption. Talking, touching, Moon Drops, get some therapy, whatever the player chooses.

3. People who do not address their feelings and/or who spend too much time by the ocean will inevitably deal with feelings of suicide and/or homicide. Please be sure to handle these topics appropriately and content warn your threads.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Comments

[hearthebell]

It's clear that he might give himself away as an element that shouldn't be here if he bullshits something up on the spot; it's also clear that he definitely will give himself away as an element that shouldn't be here if he chooses to stare dumbly or answer the same way twice.

He squints at the screen intently as though it contains information he not only understands, but possesses keen and unique insight regarding.

"I meant that our presence was what we did well. Standing to face an enemy, unflinchingly, but... the flank was bare. Also the rearguard. And... it's true that the vanguard could have benefitted with more cover."

[martyrofduty]

The Saint of Duty listens to the opinion that boils down to 'we were brave but stupid.' It's hard to tell from the squiggles, even for her, and she's lead thousands of these. Her gaze intensifies on the young soldier, necromancer build. Few people would call out a saint, even so passive aggressively, for not using more magic during a battle.

"HA!" a sharp laugh explodes from the back. A fierce angry figure of a woman with red curls exploding out of a military bun stands at the back, shoves her way past those between her and the aisle, and makes her way forward. "CHILD, THEY SENT A LYCTOR TO FLIP THE BATTLEFIELD. TO SOW DEATH FOR ALL THE WIZARDING FUCKS TO FOLLOW. THEY DO NOT NEED COVER. THEY NEED TO BE PUT DOWN."

She pulls out a gun, the first gun in the dream, and fires. The Saint of Duty dives to the side, rolling up with a rapier in one hand and a spear—a whole spear—where previously a short handled weapon hung at the Saint's side. (The saint, notably, continues not to have pants; with bullets slamming into furniture, who cares?) The distance closes between them, and the woman drops the gun in favor of a thick baton. Weapon clashes against weapon.

The Saint of Duty grins, honest joy on that serious face, as they clash. The briefing room falls away, along with practically everyone else. The surroundings gain focus again with tight quarters in an anonymous abandoned structure, close walls hemming the fighters in. The Saint of Duty has gained trousers and a white opalescent cloak flowing around them, like hair underwater. The woman's hair is loose and free and wild. Her face full of hatred. It still makes the saint smile.

[hearthebell]

L looks like himself in this dream, he's sure, even if the Saint of Duty has yet to recognize him from the waking world. Perhaps he's been forgotten, as happens, occasionally, when someone returns to the sea. Perhaps he truly is wearing the face of another.

He doesn't control that; maybe, in time, and what a boon it would be to crawl into dreams wearing the masks he chooses.

His eyes widen, parting with the rest of the ranks as the newcomer arrives and fires at the Saint of Duty. The fight that ensues is one that seems to bring him nothing but joy, as though he's in his element here or simply glad to see this fiery-haired individual.

Then he's looking directly at the Saint's beaming face. He's wearing another; he's the newcomer, wielding a baton, and fortunately, the dream knows how.

"Fancy footwork, shitbird."

Fortunately, the dream knows this, too.

[martyrofduty]

This dance is as comfortable and familiar as any memory. Nostalgia doesn't permeate the cool walls. It's harsh, ragged, hateful. The wrong place for the long weapon, though it flickers as a guard to the wiry arm. Even the rapier cannot properly be brought to bear as they stay in each other's guards with only enough room to bring force against the other.

The Saint of Duty knows far more weapons than those the saints are known for. The spear shrinks back to its shortened size, a jut of bone sticking to one side, until it becomes a sharp baton much like the one hammering ribs and arms and skull. Wounds blossom and fade on the saint's body, the sweaty sheen a greater sign of the effort expended and the costs. The emptiness around them hums with the accomplishment of one mission. The Saint of Duty is alone, and everyone else who could fall prey to the hatred incarnate before him is gone, safe, if only for another day.

The assailant presses every plan into advantage. The lack of allies. The lack of death around them. The lack of space. An ambush well executed. The Saint is losing, but Duty does not go down easy or quick. It drags through time, through the dream, as though losing is something that can last forever and a day. All the Saint of Duty needs is to outlast this danger whose wounds don't heal of their own accord. Few can hold their own against a saint. This woman, this walking well of death as surely soaked in blood as Duty itself, holds.

Cold metal wall presses against her skull, her shoulders, her back. Duty's rapier sticks through this woman, a violent hug that holds them close. Even colder, the barrel of a gun presses hard against the underside of her jaw, aimed more toward the brain, than on pressure to stop breathing. The old still Saint finally speaks. "I am sorry," that low voice growls, little apology to its tone.

"Destroy me as I am," Duty continues, some distant longing in that voice, "but I want to kiss you before I am killed." The Saint pulls back his weapon, not out of her body, but dragging this woman, this enemy, closer, too close. If that hand reaches her side, she could die as surely as the Saint's end is promised by that gun. The warm brown eyes hunger, a window into a void.

[hearthebell]

While L isn't as unathletic as he appears, able to hold his own in a tennis match or a capoeira session, it would be generous to imply that he is an athlete because he can play a game, or a fighter because he has some proficiency in a martial art. In that sense, his kinetic attachment to the dream is forfeited to maintain the easy symmetry of this violent dance. There's a drawback; it's less control for him, but it also gives him more of a cushion from harm, should the Saint of Duty land a blow or several.

So far, though, so good; L feels, for the moment, safe behind the eyes of the red-haired woman and her skill with the baton. The Saint's smile is not one of mockery, but of respect, of that he's certain.

She's wounded; it was the right choice, to pull his control back, because while L feels the prick of the rapier, he hasn't been run through; he won't wake up just to die because of this. "Why?" he asks, though she is the one asking, the mind truly directing the words. This is how it happened, he's sure, if it happened, if memory is the template for the Saint of Duty's dream.

In the dream where he walked by the Emperor's side, he was looked at as one beloved with history. In the waking world, his boyfriend Shoyo looks at him the way L is sure he must look back, like a young man who is finally fumbling through what most people do when they're teenagers. To call it "lust" would be giving it too much dignity and weight when they go about it with no small amount of self-consciousness; L sees "lust" now, more than pretense or any number of the other complements to the mood, no red cheeks or ducking grin. The woman whose eyes he sits behind might as well be undressed already, for how the Saint looks at him, her, them.

Stealing a chaste and careful kiss against the Emperor's temple was one thing, but being present and deceptive this way for what he senses will come next, past the piercing impalements and through the alien aches, feels like it would both be immensely unpleasant for him and a line too far. Shreds of honor, from the kind of man who has few qualms about entering another's mind in the first place.

When he opens his eyes again, he's just the dark-eyed necromancer, witnessing the scene from the outside once more. As the press of bodies grows more urgent and amorous, he threads his way through the other cadets, warily keeping the Saint and the red-haired woman in his peripheral vision.

Even so... he doesn't move quickly. He wants, in spite of the increasing intimacy of this fight becoming a tryst, to hear the answer to the woman's question.

[martyrofduty]

Her gaze speaks for her. Duty stands easily, hardly put off that death may soon follow. She swallows, pressing against the barrel of the gun. It digs in. Destroying the brain is no small matter, even to a lyctor. Her concern instead is in the pure joy of this situation, of this implacable enemy just within reach. She does not reach, does not touch her when that could spell death, hers, theirs. In the moment, what's the difference? Duty has lived so long. It cannot fear death.

"Because I have only once met someone so utterly willing to burn for what they believed in," Duty answers, the devotion, along with love and longing, plainspoken. No shame. "And I loved him on sight, and the first time I died, I asked of him what I now ask of you." The truth, plain and simple, though the woman doesn't have the information to understand it. No one does, no one but Duty.

That hard gaunt face, skin stretched over bone, beams from within, warmed by the souls within. The moment hangs there between them, far longer than it did in real life. It's the experience of the moment, the second which stretched wider than a century. That face burned into her mind. The moment, the moment something shifts—

It could have spelled destruction. It did, in a way.