deercountry | No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.

No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.

NOVEMBER 2021 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Red mushrooms with white spots growing rapidly.]
[Image Two: Mushrooms on log with morning mist. ] Within Prompt: Orange mushrooms walking on small, greenfeet. Jellyfish-like mushroom with mini-mushrooms growing on top. Vine-like mushrooms with clear heads. Blue mushrooms.

Prompt Two
[Image One: Corpse pinned to chainlink fence with man standing in front.]
[Image Two: Limbless, headless, semi-naked bloody bodies wiggling in walls.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Disfigured humanoid with skin stretched over eyes and chattering, exposed teeth.]
[Image Two: Large organ-like structure pulsating with a human head attached on top via metal contraption.]

[NAVIGATION]

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

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

MUSHABOOMING

WHEN: Month of November
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Poisonous mushrooms that induce paralysis and suffocation and violent hallucinations.

Come November, Trench is flourishing with a wide variety of mushrooms. Mushrooms can be found growing in the woods, around your house, and maybe even on your house if you're especially lucky...Or unlucky, depending on the type of mushroom.

The mushroom is considered to be arguably the most important food source in Trench. It's the easiest to find and grow, and one of the easiest to harvest. It's a dependable source of protein and can fill people up. They are filled with vitamins that directly help your blood and heart health and can help keep your digestive system on track. But not everyone is a mushroom farmer and most Trenchies wind up foraging for their own mushrooms. Woven baskets are sold just about everywhere to help forage. Omens are extremely good at scenting out edible mushrooms.

The following edible mushrooms can be found/grown throughout Trench: button, portobello, cremini, oyster, chanterelle, porcini, black trumpets, morels, enoki, shimeji, shiitake, and giant puffballs. If you are extremely lucky, you might even find rare truffles. Truffles can be exchanged for highly valuable goods such as magnificent jewels and specialized weapons. Or you can keep the truffles to yourself and use them in a nice dish.

It is said there are hundreds of unique species of mushrooms to Trench. The following mushrooms are permanent features in Trench and can be found most commonly during Bone Season:

WALKING TERRORS

These parasitic mushrooms seem to "walk" around the forest floor. Arcane scholars have determined that their motion is actually just a natural response to stimuli in the environment and helps the fungi to spread its spores onto living hosts. Once you have been exposed to a cloud of these spores, you will immediately begin to hallucinate the world around you warping into a terrifying hellscape. Some say that Walking Terrors have driven people to beasthood in a matter of minutes. But there is a huge benefit to finding Walking Terrors: their caps, once dried and crushed down, are an ample treatment option for corruption. The tricky part is actually getting them. Covering your entire body, head to toe, completely is one way of avoiding the spores and probably the easiest way. Does anyone have a hazmat suit? Another option is knowing a darkblood or someone with similar abilities who can manipulate the direction of the spores in the air by pushing them away. Once the caps have been removed from the rest of the mushroom, the spores seem to lose their nightmarish quality and, at most, will just make you sneeze.

FLOATERS

These mushrooms come out exclusively at night and float lazily through the air. They bob and bump around, their tentacles searching for something to cling to and settle on. They mostly search for tree branches but have been known to accidentally cling to animals and people. The tentacles paralyze any sentient being it lands on. The good thing is that the cap and the little mushrooms on top are completely harmless to touch so if you have a buddy around, they can pull them off with no problem. You'll regain the ability to move your body a few seconds after the tentacles have been removed. The paralytic quality of these tentacles do not impact vilebloods. These mushrooms dried out and cooked are said to amplify electric abilities in coldbloods for a short moment of time. They can also be used to enchant an item with paralytic properties.

WEEPERS

These rare mushrooms can pop up just about anywhere. Only one grows every hundred feet or so and they don't get any bigger than a penny. Weepers are highly sought after since they have been known to greatly reduce corruption. Consuming a Weeper raw will immediately calm someone down, get rid of any current anxiety, wash away depression and paranoia, and clear the mind of hallucinations. Weepers can sharpen the mind and help increase focus. The effect lasts for days and sometimes even weeks. It isn't a permanent cure but it sure beats having a panic attack. Weepers can be collected and saved indefinitely. There are no other uses for them than mental relief, and they must be consumed raw. Cooking a Weeper will get rid of its healing properties - but it does add great flavor to a dish! If a mentally stable person eats them, there will be no effect.

BLUE CHEEKS

These radiant mushrooms grow in clusters on healthy trees and seem to thrive among vegetation. You might find Blue Cheeks in your own garden. They are certainly pretty, but you don't want to eat these. They will cause you to slowly suffocate - even if you don't typically need to "breathe" in the traditional way. It's an agonizing way to go. Your body will start to experience micro-seizures as it locks up, your throat slowly closing up, lungs squeezing inward. It will begin to feel like someone is sitting on your chest and there will be no relief. Your cheeks start to turn blue. Most who eat Blue Cheeks wind up dead, but if someone forcibly makes you vomit shortly after consuming a Blue Cheek, you may be able to survive. Some harvest Blue Cheeks and smash them up to coat their weapons in the jelly-like substance. This substance causes the same effect but must be used while the Blue Cheek jam is still wet. It will stay wet for an hour.

THE SLEEPER FARM

WHEN: Month of November
WHERE: Everywhere + The Sleeper Farm
CONTENT WARNINGS: Kidnapping, claustrophobia, harvesting blood/organs, imprisonment, temporary nerf of powers, blood sacrifice, brief amnesia, confusion, loss of time, breathing in blood, treatment of humanoids(?) like livestock, themes of meat markets, themes of torture, mutilated corpses, mutilating injuries.

The blood pollution is thick this month and the more a Sleeper is exposed, the more a Sleeper will find themselves falling into a strange stupor. You seem to forget what you were doing, where you are, what time it is. You will find it increasingly difficult to use your blood powers. Some may lose their new abilities entirely. It's like trying to wake up from a deep dream, everything's sluggish and hazy.

Then you blink. That's all. Maybe you went to sleep or wash your face. When you open your eyes again, you're somewhere else entirely and have no recollection of how you got there. Your body has a deep ache, you're filthy, hungry, and feel like it's somehow been days. You have nothing on you except a drab red jumpsuit. No shoes. No Omni. No weapons.

THE STALLS: 1st FLOOR

If you're lucky, you wake up in a stall with another Sleeper (or more). You can hear and feel the dull vibration of heavy machinery chugging around you; you can smell oil and something thick and musty fermenting.

You are in some way restrained upon waking, whether through shackles to the wall, one another, or some other means. Whatever put you here doesn't want you to escape. You can barely access your powers (for now), but maybe you can find help in nearby Sleepers.

Once you escape, you almost wish you had stayed in your stall. The stalls are the only thing that's farmlike about the Sleeper Farm. It's an architectural masterpiece of steel pistons gyrating, metal staircases heading in every direction, steam-powered doors that exhale open upon an approach. Oil drips continually from above, like filthy rainfall, but every now and then, so does blood of all kind. Never enough to detect the source immediately though.

Your only real option left is to...explore. And this metal palace is huge. You will find various tools for construction around: wrenches, hammers, saws, nails, anything you'd find at a hardware store. You could come across workboots, protective gloves, helmets with lights. The metal around you is boiling hot, and if you're not careful, getting burns is all too easy. You can hear something banging around above. You may even see movement through metal slots of humanoids rushing away. Then you start to find the source of the blood...

STORAGE: 2-9th Floors

Sleepers have been strung up in various locations. Maybe they are ones you recognize, maybe they are you (if you're unlucky enough to wake up like that), or maybe they are completely foreign to you, maimed beyond recognition. Many have been pinned up and mutilated in some way, whether fully skinned and bled dry, or body parts removed, skin carved into. Some have buckets beneath them to collect blood while others seem to have been decoratively destroyed. There is no saving some, but there is saving many. Some might have only just been strung up, still alive, still fully intact, and without any harm done just yet...But no matter what, most won't remember how they got there.

The further you go, the more bodies you come across. Some bodies have been rolled up into bags and tossed into empty rooms in piles. The floor is slick with blood, and the metal maze becomes increasingly complex with tighter turns and thicker blood pollution. It becomes difficult to breathe without ingesting in some kind of blood - but on the other hand...Your powers begin to work because of it. You can start to feel it coming back to you. You can feel yourself slowly start to regain your strength. Which is probably for the best, since you're not out of this hell just yet.

BLOOD HARVEST: 10th Floor

You enter a perfect, circular room built out of pure bloodstone from the different blood types, neatly flushed together in a mesmerizing display of artistry and architecture. At the center of a room is an enormous golden statue of The Tower, hands held out with palms open.

Filling the palms of the statue and surrounding the base of the Tower are hundreds of organs, perfectly intact, given to the statue in sacrifice. The miraculous thing, however, is the fact that most of the organs still seem to be functioning - or at the very least, they aren't rotting the way they should be. It isn't something one wishes to look at for too long.

More importantly, are the five doors that represent the five different blood types. Each door is made from the same gray wood, but with a single bloodstone in the center. Beyond the door is where you come to discover the true horror of where you are.

You're in a Sleeper Farm. Sleepers have been organized by blood types into a vast room. Some cannot be saved, opened up on tables, their organs already carved out and given over to the sacrifice. Others are still alive, but hooked up to tubes, their blood being pumped into vats kept in the ceiling. More disturbingly are the bodies of Sleepers that barely look like Sleepers at all anymore - they have been stripped so thoroughly of everything, left like hunks of meat on hooks. There are fires stoked towards the back, with shelves of jars with blood vials and bloodstones.

It's probably time to wonder who did this to you. Who brought you to this place?

And probably how the hell you get out.

QUICK FACTS

1. To avoid this prompt, you can simply handwave your character getting lucky or Wearing a gas mask and full facial/bodily coverage to help keep the likelihood of blood pollution impact lower.

2. If characters don't have eyes, any variation of vulnerability will count (ie; turning away from something, putting on headphones, etc).

3. Characters cannot have their Omni or any other item in this prompt except items they find along the way. They can still summon their Omens. Omens can help guide Sleepers, and provide communication. One can use Omens to transmit messages to the Network. However, characters cannot find their way to this location from outside. This is a by-chance location.

4. You can choose your character's level of restraint (muzzles/handcuffs/etc) and how easily they can escape them (maybe the shackles can be broken apart with enough strength or you need a nearby key).

5. Those whose Patron is the Tower will be able to more easily navigate the Sleeper Farm and figure out its continually moving parts. They may get a "telepathic" swaying by the Tower to go in the right direction. They will also instinctively know that they are inside the Tower's body in some way.

6. Characters can wake up in any part of the Tower and experience this prompt multiple times.

7. To get out, one must sacrifice some sort of blood or an organ directly to the Tower whether their own or someone else's. This will transport a Sleeper back into town in a random location. Alternatively: Moon Presence will be saving Sleepers by "pulling" them out of this place at random. It will feel a lot like traveling through the lamps, but Sleepers will realize it's the Moon Presence instead. She will place them back in their homes. This can be done at any time.

8. This prompt is meant to go hand-in-hand with the third prompt, but it is not required to engage with both.

BLOOD CRAZED ZEALOTS

WHEN: Month of November
WHERE: ~~????~~ Everywhere and the Sleeper Farm
CONTENT WARNINGS: Severe disorientation, psychological horror, paradoxical horror, feelings of being trapped/lost, Cenobites/beings with extreme bodily modifications, themes of mental and physical torture.

You are not alone in the Sleeper Farm, and someone powerful has brought you here. It wasn't the Tower though. It was someone obsessed with the Tower. Or...obsessed with blood.

They lurk throughout Trench, never letting themselves be known until they want to be known. They abduct Sleepers in the blink of an eye, masters of reality-bending and experts of blood abilities.

Meet the Blood-Crazed Zealots.

Or, as you will come to learn through various interactions, ancient Sleepers who have been exposed to blood pollution for far too long and who have been completely corrupt by it. These are masters of their blood magic, darkblood magicians who can snap their fingers and rip a Sleeper off the streets. Palebloods who can make you forget who you are, where you are. Vilebloods who have mastered the exact skill of extracting blood and harvesting it for bloodstones and sacrifices. Warmbloods who have gladly given their bodies up to power the Tower. Coldbloods who keep the metal machinery of the Sleeper Farm running perfectly.

These are the Sleepers who learned to survive in a different way, Sleepers who learned to cohesively blend their skills together to not only survive but excel. Most have completely disfigured themselves, claiming it to be an act of religious commitment to the "Patron Pthumerians that guide us."

The Blood Crazed Zealots believe that they must continually sacrifice Sleepers to the Tower primarily in order to keep the city of Trench strong against corruption. And the thing is...They technically aren't wrong. The Bone Season is when Trench becomes the weakest, so the Blood Crazed Zealots work overtime to get the blood pumping into the streets.

These beings are naturally sadistic, uninterested in compassion. Yet they show the potential for what Sleepers could learn, and if you're clever enough, you may even be able to get a Blood Crazed Zealot to pause and teach you a thing about your own blood type. They are ruthless and powerful, but far from irrational or stupid. Corrupt they may be, senseless they are not.

Some of you may wake up to one of these creatures torturing you or torturing a friend. You may catch them in the streets of Trench, turning a corner, and that may be your chance to follow them into the Sleeper Farm by stepping into the black holes they leave in their wake when teleporting.

The Blood Crazed Zealots can summon hooks from nowhere and snare you in their traps. They can get extremely creative and oftentimes will enjoy dragging out the agony. They know how to drain Sleepers of their blood and their powers...So how is one to even combat one of these?

Use their own game against them, of course. Blood is power and you might as well use yours. Blood Crazed Zealots are tied to their word and obey the law of the blood. If you create a blood oath with one of these Blood Crazed Zealots that's just clever enough, you may be able to protect yourself and a few others. But be careful. Blood oaths with Blood Crazed Zealots can have loopholes. Ask to be set free and they might let your body go, but keep your mind to drive you insane.

Despite their power, they are still limited in what they can do. They can't be everywhere at once, and one can hide from them. They can even be killed if a Sleeper properly regains their strength.

QUICK FACTS

1. You can create your own variation of a Blood Crazed Zealot. Their general concept is inspired by cenobites, but the general concept is a humanoid-being who looks like they have sacrificed a good deal of their body.

2. They will communicate this information openly to Sleepers who ask about it as well as tell Sleepers about other lore and facts about blood types/the Pthumerians.

3. Their powers are based on regular blood type powers (ie; a coldblood BCZ could torture people with electricity.) Some are much weaker than others.

4. They would not accept a new Sleeper who wanted to become "one of them" since they are created after decades of exposure to blood pollution.

5. People can run into these both in the Sleeper Farm and in Trench. One could convince a Blood Crazed Zealot to bring them to the Sleeper Farm in order to save others.

CODING

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Illarion considers himself close to very few Sleepers in Trench. He got on well with many of them (which was sufficient for his purposes), but none of them were tribe. While he would certainly help them however they needed, were they suffering in front of him, he didn't take an active interest in looking after them.

The boy the shrike knows as Tabris is a different story. Something in the young angel had awakened his latent protective streak again, and Tabris' wellbeing mattered to Illarion in a way few things still could.

Finding him entirely missing from Trench one day struck the shrike like a blow to the gut--and gave him reason to once more storm hell.

Breaking back into the Farm was simplicity itself--he only had to follow another Darkblood; it's locating Tabris among the mad, the dying, and the dead that's the hard part. At least Illarion had help among the lattermost: The ghosts of other Sleepers the Zealots had killed hung thick in the shifting halls, and many would answer his questions out of spite, or boredom, or a promise he'd find their squids and return them to the ocean. Many of them didn't recognize his description of Tabris--so much is olfactory and his ((outward)) perception didn't translate--but enough did to give him an idea, however tenuous, of where the boy might be.

He quartered out a search grid in his head, tapped a willing ghost to follow him and keep track of the halls, and set out to search.

A hour(?) later he's still combing the stalls with the mindless patience of the undead, every sense still at his disposal extended for some sign of the missing angel. Every corpse of roughly the right size and build gives him a moment of disquiet until he can confirm it isn't his target. He's nearly certain he's gone around in a circle at least once, but he is very far from giving up trying; though a part of him hopes ardently that Tabris is in a condition to see him and call out, and spare him searching every stall and inventory in the corridor.

His figure might or might not be recognizable, bundled head to toe in black leather and masked to avoid any contact with the blood that drips off the walls, but his muffled voice surely is as he speaks softly to the ghost accompanying him--and, occasionally, one of his borrowed local gods.

To you, the Tower, whose body this is, I make a request of clemency for one of your prisoners--]

[Perhaps the tower hears his prayer. Or perhaps it's just luck and there is no one listening at all. Does it matter if the end result is the same?

Down the end of the hall is a small black cat. To anyone without Illarion's unique perspective, it might appear to be completely ordinary, except for the cat has deep blue eyes that no normal alley cat would ever possess. It is clearly and unmistakably an omen.

The cat meows softly and then turns, casting a glance over its shoulder as if to ensure that it is being followed, and darts back down the hall. Around the corner is Kaworu, or Tabris as he is also known.

He has managed to escape his bonds (easy enough with Darkblood and angel powers to warp the world around him) and he appears unharmed, but clearly out of sorts. He is barefoot and the jumpsuit he's been given is too big for him and hangs off his pale shoulders. He sidesteps the other Sleepers stalls, almost like he doesn't know how to respond to their requests for help, keeping his distance.

Then he sees the cat and then... Illarion. Despite the outfit, he's quite certain he knows who that is, though he doesn't even have a name to associate with the person in front of him. Kaworu doesn't know quite what to make of it.]

It's you.

[Shrike faith is as much a matter of action in the universe as requesting its helpful attention. It may be the Tower helped; it may be the Tower did nothing, because Illarion all by himself was all the help that was needed.

Either way, when the Omen appears and requests he follow it, he makes a note to sacrifice to the Tower beyond what will be required to get them both out of this hellish place. He follows the little creature with all due haste to where its Sleeper awaits them, slowing only when he can ((feel)) the boy's all right. Or at least intact--the Farm had more ways of harming Sleepers than were immediately visible.]

Yes. I found you missing, and came here to rescue you.

[No reason not to be to the point.

He adds, with a hint of a smile,] Though you seem half-rescued already.

[For a second, Kaworu stands frozen, trying to comprehend why Illarion would come all the way to this dangerous place, willingly, just for him. Even if he believed Kaworu to be someone without anyway to defend himself.

While Kaworu is frozen like he's petrified, the cat goes over to Illarion and rubs against his legs, as a normal cat would. Though as it is an omen, the sensation is more like smoke against his body than fur.]

I was able to break the lock with my blood powers.

[He jams his hands into his pockets and walks closer to the shrike.]

Coming here willingly on my behalf was risky. Do you fear loneliness that much?

[Illarion's learned, over time, that those little freezes are not anything to be immediately worried about. He leans down to offer the cat-Omen his hand as he feels it brush up against him, though his attention remains on Tabris--and the halls beyond and around them, where enemies could boil up any moment.]

Good. [His approval is immediate and a little vicious.] Sometimes this does not work, but I am glad they do not know what they were dealing with.

[He straightens, moving to join his (self-chosen) charge. The question makes him smile a little wider, and maybe there's a little discomfort behind it. Did he fear being lonely? Companionship was a luxury the dead couldn't count on.] I feared what might happen to you, in this place. The risk is nothing, to that.

They didn't know what else I could do. It caught them off guard.

[It's good that Illarion is beyond the freezes and even better that he doesn't comment on them. Any awareness of them would do nothing more than make him sulk and withdraw.

Even though the Omen would betray his feelings either way. He steps forward, moving closer to Illarion, and maybe feeling a little bad about his accusation when the risk he had taken upon himself to get here was so great.]

You feared for me?

Might that luck continue as we leave. I fear I have been here often enough they are starting to learn some of my tricks.

[Which was part of his wake-up call to be a little more careful about his levels of corruption; they were getting much better at locking him down if they captured him.

He cocks his head to one side as Tabris approaches, studying the younger man sightlessly. Then he makes a little beckoning gesture--walk with him; they can have this conversation while climbing to the tenth floor.]

Yes. [Certain kinds of fear, it turned out, were still legible to the undead.] That you might suffer or die here--or worse, be ruined by it. This place breeds corruption.

[Which, thinking of. He pulls his kit bag around to dig in it, producing a mask and offering it Tabris' rough direction.

There's too much blood in the air.]

How many times have you been here?

[Kaworu is quite baffled at that, even as he follows along. That seems like lunacy. Aren't most predisposed to self-preservation?

He takes the mask but simply keeps it in his hand instead of putting it on.]

I am not corrupted by this-[He waves a hand in the air to indicate the miasma around him.] I protect myself from it.

[He's silent for a moment at the question, trying to count.

After the third time he comes up with a different number, he gives a shake of his head.] Five or more. I allowed myself to become too corrupted to remember.

[And some of it isn't in the right order in his head. What can be seen of his expression under his own mask is one of displeasure; that was a sloppy job.

He quickly forgets the self-recrimination at the comment.] How is this done?

Five?! What is wrong with you, old man...?

[He huffs. Though, he's not actually angry at all even if he thinks Illarion's actions were foolish. Instead, he feels a strange press in his chest at the idea that Illarion felt it was worth risking further corruption for his sake.

He huffs.]

My AT Field protects me. The light of my soul... something all beings with souls possess, though only Angels possess ones powerful enough for protection.

[Even if he deserves exactly that response--true anger behind it or not--Illarion is taken briefly aback by the outburst. He blinks once, head canted birdlike to one side.

(Old man. Is that his use-name now? It fits.)

Finally,] Much is wrong.

[Like his ability to contain his own impulses being broken, but--] But I am also dead, and do not suffer as much from this as the living do.

This field is around you now? [He stretches out with his other sense, necromantic and unearthly both. If he hadn't noticed it before, it may not be something he can detect at all, but now that he knows it's there and what to look for...]

I'm also dead and I'm not doing anything like that.

[Well, there's no point in arguing. Other the Old Man was deep in denial about what this place was like or he did not die in the way that Kaworu did. Or that death meant something else in his own world.

He can't explain why the idea makes him feel... sad. He wraps an arm around himself and then looks over at his rescuer.]

All souls have them. It keeps us separate and distinct from others. But only Angels can wield them with power.

[Indeed, if Illarion can detect it, there is a barrier encircling Kaworu. A pulsating, hexagonal pattern emanates from the boy. A shield that is the light of his soul and all the pain, confusion, and loss that feels the soul with doubt and causes them to put up barriers to others. It's both almost ethereal and yet a little sad at the same time.]

[Illarion shakes his head at that, laughing quietly.] Little bird, you have died to your world, but you are still among the living in this one. I am not.

[Definitely a different meaning of dead.]

You would not be distinct otherwise? But for being kept--ah! [There it is, gossamer-fine and still solid to the ((touch)) now that he knows what he's ((feeling)) for. He is no Paleblood or empath to pick up on another's emotions but even so there's something...faintly wistful about it.

How strange, though, to find someone else with an outward part of himself. Then again, Nephele's angels were also opaque to a shrike's sight; maybe he should have expected as much.] --kept apart.

Perhaps.

[How do you know if he's alive, huh! Don't go making assumptions that probably are true!

Then he flinches a little, shuddering like there's a cold water slowly dripping down his spine. If he's not utilizing his AT Field to a degree where it's visible, it's odd for someone to... touch it. It's not unpleasant but it's strange and new.]

Yes. If it were not for AT Fields, all things with souls would no longer be able to maintain separate forms. For them, it's not something they can wield, it's simply tied to their ability to exist in the world.

[~~Don't "perhaps" him, young man! He can tell your heart's still beating!~~

Regardless, Illarion lets the subject drop; there are bigger things to worry about.

Escape, for one. Also, that Tabris might have noticed him poking around, if the shudder's any indication.

He draws back, refocusing his attention on the corridor around them.] What would this be like, if souls did not have them? Just everything alive as one great mass?

[There's a fork in the hallway up ahead, a split at a thirty-degree angle that would be natural in a cave but looks very odd in something built. Blood drips and fogs so thickly on the right fork it's impossible to see more than a foot or two into it.]

That's right. All souls would return to the Chamber of Guf, existing in complete unity. Every flaw complimented by someone else's strength. My purpose was to bring about this end.

[This time, he steps forward and activates his A.T. Field properly. A bright light shines from his body, emitting in a hexagonal pattern that fills the hall and pushes outwards, clearing the blood back and away like a great gust of wind.]

[He'd been about to consult the nearest ghost on which fork to take when Tabris steps up and clears the way for them. It's so striking and so obvious even to Illarion's limited senses the shrike simply takes the moment to observe.]

Queen and Throne, [he murmurs, once that moment's passed.] No wonder they could not hold you.

[He takes a step or two forward himself, reaching outward to ((feel)) as far down the hallway as he can. Then:] A moment, and I will have a direction for us.

You, [and here he tips his head away from his companion, toward something invisible and high up on one wall,] yes, the spirit there. Which of these hallways leads straightest to the next floor?

[Something answers him, for after a moment he nods and says to Tabris:] We go right.

Of course they couldn't.

[He says with childish arrogance, but there's a hint of pride there too. He is powerful. More powerful all the rest of his brethren when it comes to his AT Field. But there's also childish pride underneath, burning a little hotter than even he knows.

He sulks a little when Illarion decides to have a conversation with someone he can't see, but keeps his AT Field activated, preventing anyone from approaching and the blood from leaking in.

Once Illarion is done ~~ignoring him talking, he nods and starts walking.]~~

Then we go right.

[Oh, teenagers. Even if Tabris has a rightful reason to be proud in this instance...

Illarion heads down the right-hand path himself, picking up the thread of conversation as if he hadn't dropped it--and maybe, smiling a little to himself behind his mask.]

Some would say such unity is not so terrible a thing--it is an end to the loneliness and inadequacy that are always following us. [It lands close enough to Unearthed propaganda that he should, he thinks, be uncomfortable with it. He doesn't have a pattern for that one.] Is this what the men who made you wanted?

[SHUT UP BAKA!!!

Anyway, he shifts a little.]

It's what they said was the outcome. But what they actually wanted was to be the leaders of Human Instrumentality and tune humanity as they saw fit. They weren't content to simply let things be and be part of it.

[You address your ~~mother~~ ~~father~~ weird parental surrogate that way???]

Do you think their aspirations at all possible? Would they not be on an equal footing with all their victims then, who would all know what they had done?

[There's an almost-wistful note in his voice. He has no idea what properties of "Human Instrumentality" these evil men meant to exploit, but a part of him wants a chance for the rest of humanity.

The chance the Unearthed never had.]

[YES. WHAT IS RESPECT.]

What could anyone do? They have no form and no way to return to it. And they would exist in a world without pain and uncertainty. Perhaps it's better for them that way.

[Something nags at him but he doesn't say. He could tell the Old Man, perhaps the only person he would tell, but not here and not now.]

[SOMETHING YOU CLEARLY NEED TO LEARN, YOUNG MAN.]

Hmm. This, I think, goes back to our discussion of whether it is good in itself to have the will to change things, yes?

And besides--

[He stops abruptly, cutting himself off and holding out an arm to bar the way. He tips his head back, lips wrinkling back from his fangs and eyes narrowed.

Above them, something bellows in pain. Ponderous footsteps rattle the ceiling and shake the hallway.] --besides, what could anyone use to control them, if they could not be afraid or hurt?

[Since he's just going to continue the philosophical discussion, whatever THAT is probably isn't... immediately dangerous...]

[MAKE HIM.

He sniffs a little as he runs into the arm with a little "oof" sound. The subsequent bellow and shifting makes him stiffen. For all his arrogance, he's still a child.]

The control already occured. They engineered the scenario to ensure Third Impact occurs and that the project is completed. Perhaps in the way they initiate, they can become something like gods.

[JUST YOU WATCH.

Illarion doesn't take his attention from the ceiling, but also doesn't miss that alarm response. He lowers his arm--then moves his hand briefly to Tabris' shoulder.]

Steady. We may be witnessing an awful thing here, soon.

[The thing upstairs bellows again and smashes itself into a wall so hard the hallway they're in flexes. Someone or several someones start shouting, the words indistinct and unrecognizable.]

You have ever seen an animal killed for food?

[What a terrible and terribly ironic conversational turn from killing all of humanity (in their present state) for godhood.

But then Illarion's certain the Waking World and the Pthumerians have a REALLY awful sense of humor. And dramatic timing.]

he's no wasted life; open your eyes (for Kaworu)

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cw: animal slaughter mention