deercountry | oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? [ OPEN ]

𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼

[ Evelyn doesn't have a horrific amount of past regrets, not like many in Trench seem to. She has, of course, a few important ones - maybe not read from the Book of the Dead, never take her eyes off her son, but...

Beyond that, they aren't as life ending.

Still, when she hears of the ritual, she goes out onto the front lawn of her house in Crenshaw, buries a few strands of hair because that...seems appropriate? She isn't sure what else to use, drops a few little pearls of blood...and is rewarded with a beautiful blue lotus as a result. ]

𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓽

[ Not her idea of a good time, nope.

After that river from hell, Evelyn is quite ready to shake it off, and even goes so far as to offer a thin smile, and say-- ]

I feel obliged towards a glass of wine. Join me?

𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽

[ Evelyn is woefully unprepared to aid in any sort of battle in the arena - because of course, that's where she ends up. It's where most Sleepers end up, it seems, though she is at least aware she'll be illequipped in regards to an environment such as this.

But...maybe not useless. She does, at least, have the memories of her reincarnated self; Nefertiri was exceptionally confident, and with all the visions and dreams and memories...

Maybe she picks up a few daggers and settles in next to her fellow Sleeper, tipping her head with a small smile. ]

Well. Shall we? [ Because as lovely as her husband was and as good at saving her as he was, she'd quite like to save herself this time. ]

(( ooc; all prompts ota! feel free to join evelyn in any of the above, or if you want to coordinate something, message me or hmu on plurk! ]

( Peter's not even sure how he ended up out here; he's a fair bit away from his own housing in the Gaze district. But considering the fact he so often roams without having awareness of it, waking up any number of places... this is pretty standard for him. As usual, the demon within him has taken to exploring this place, wandering around to examine its new surroundings and absorb information about it all. Peter's always left with the confusion afterwards.

He's just coming out of his odd haze, vision a little blurry, feeling strange in himself. Looking down, he realises that he's still carrying the small pot with the tiny white daisy planted in it. After he'd completed his own ritual, it had bloomed, something immediately precious to him. The flower means something important, reminds him of someone important. He's been carrying it with him ever since, keeping it safe.

As he's slowly wandering along the unfamiliar place, he spots a woman out on the front lawn of a home that looks like something from a dream. Peter thinks maybe he's seen her before, once, and carefully approaches her, recognising what she's doing. The same ritual he'd painfully worked his way through, reluctant and afraid to partake in such a thing. He stares at the flower that's blossoming, eyes widening a little. The rituals are scary for him, but what comes from them are... really nice. )

That's— really pretty.

[ Evelyn is still a little in awe of the home she'd been given in Deerington, and that it had been brought along with her to Trench - in all of its glory. It's big, though - lonely. A beautiful mansion fit for a family (her family, the one that's left living their lives with some...other version of her, she supposes), but it's only her in there, listening to the echo of what she once had.

She's lost in her thoughts when she's approached, looking up and flashing a small smile, though there is recognition in her face. They've met before, she's sure of it. ]

It's a blue lotus, [ she murmurs, staring back down at her flower with no small amount of awe. ] It used to be abundant in the Nile Delta, but it's endangered these days. It was sacred to ancient Egyptians, a... symbol of creation and rebirth. I suppose that's rather fitting.

( As soon as she speaks, Peter's even more sure that he's come across her before — though he can't remember...when, or where, exactly. Were there... books? He's still been having a difficult time sorting out his memories.

But there's a little smile in return; he's nervous of strangers even on a good day, but there's something to the woman that seems kind. Or maybe that he remembers as being kind. And the flower that's meant for her is so lovely; he can't help feeling a bit at ease as he gazes down at it, listening to her explanation. )

Someone told me these — daisies — have to do with rebirth, too. Or... new beginnings. ( He holds his small potted flower up, a little shyly. It's... probably weird to wander around clutching a flower to one's chest like it's a precious item, but it brings him comfort. )

Will you keep yours, too? It seems like this place wants us to. ...Which uh, could be a good or a bad thing. ( He admits. He's still not sure the whole blood ritual thing wasn't a mistake. )

[ Books, a small shop...one she's recently rediscovered, which has pleased her greatly. Evelyn isn't doing overly well here; her family isn't here, she's aged eight years, Deerington felt like a distant dream and now she's back in this hellscape while some other version of herself lives at...home? Or something?

Regardless, she's alone here, the connections she had made feel distant, half forgotten. ]

They were right, yes. [ She leans over to look at the flower, a smile curling at her lips. ] It's very lovely.

[ The flower in front of her waves gently in the soft breeze, and it catches her attention, drawing her eyes back down. ]

I think I should keep it. It's too lovely to leave out here in the ground, all by itself.

( Peter's not very versed in the symbolism of flowers, but he really likes the thought of new beginnings. As unsettling as the whole ritual experience was — and still is — it's honestly hard to be afraid of the little flower, even if it was borne from something so strange. Especially when it reminds him so much of something he loves. )

It's— it represents someone important to me, I think. She gave me a daisy once, and it looked just like this... I keep thinking it can't just be coincidence? I think they're important for us. ( He mulls thoughtfully. This place, like Deerington, seems to know what's inside of you: the regrets, the guilts, but the nicer things too, sometimes. This flower represents something good, for him. And maybe hers does too; Peter's once again looking down at the lotus, still a bit awed by it for a few moments. He's never seen one in person before. )

Is that where you're from, before here? Egypt, I mean.

I think you might be right.

[ It's precious to her for no reason beyond it grew from her blood, though she thinks that's nothing to sneeze at. ]

I'm half-Egyptian, but I was born in London. I lived there for quite some time, though. I consider it my second home. [ As precious to her as this flower. ]

Oh, for real? That's really cool. ( The teenager who has never traveled outside of the United States (well... unless this place counts? Are they in the United States... somewhere...? In another dimension? He doesn't fucking know) is visibly impressed by the thought of living in such cool places. )

...I'm just from Utah. ( He says, lamely. Utah's undeniably uncool.... )

Sorry to just— come up to you like this all of a sudden. I thought maybe I'd met you before, but things are... still kind of strange. Were you at Deerington...?

[Eames has mixed feelings about all this, but it's hard to ignore the immense satisfaction that comes with fucking up some monsters. Especially with a hecking big battle axe.]

[He's checking said axe for damage when there's a familiar voice that makes the corner of his mouth quirk in a small smile.]

Miss Carnahan. Fancy seeing you here.

Eames!

[ She looks rather delighted as she twirls her daggers in her hands, like she's been doing it for decades instead of weeks. Thank Nefertiri for those skills, indeed. ]

I'm so glad you made it -- [ ah, one moment, let her stick a monster in the eye before turning back to him. ] Is your friend here as well? The American one?

[He pauses a little, kinda surprised by how easily she handles those blades and stabs that monster, but then can Eames really judge when he's out here maintaining a conversation while he brings his axe down on something's head.]

He's here, yeah. Been to the arena more than me, actually.

[ It's complicated. Past lives, blabbity blah. She yanks her blades free, wipes them on her pants as she raises her brows. ]

Really? How many times so far? I believe this is...my third. I think.

[ Flynn does not usually drink alcohol—he is, in truth, the lightest of lightweights, which strikes many as hilarious and many more as odd, given that everyone knows those people from the Lower Quarter are all drunken louts—but after that?

After the awfulness of seeing not just Estellise but Yuri and Alexei and his mother?

Flynn nods, clutching the compasss he was given more tightly in his hand. ]

That would be appreciated, yes. Preferably somewhere... not here.

[ Seeing Imhotep again, the bodies of her husband and son...

Evelyn needs a drink, absolutely. ]

Yes, absolutely. Lets...lets go. [ She's shaken, hands trembling as she pockets the compass, swallowing thickly. ]

I believe one of our fellow Sleepers has set up a pub. Perhaps we should give him our patronage.

[ After a moment, Flynn offers up an arm, a practiced motion he's clearly done a lot. Evelyn looks about as unsteady on her feet as Flynn currently feels, and he has no intention of making her walk out of here on her own. ]

You mentioned you were in the dream version of this place. Was this... sort of thing common?

[ She certainly appreciates it, and she clutches his arm as she lets her head sort itself out. ]

Yes. There was usually some new hell every month or so.

I can't imagine. What an awful place.

[ Flynn isn't really sure where he's going, but he'd like to be away from this oppressive place with its ravens and its eyes. The last thing he wants is another feather to drop, for the same thing to happen yet again. Flynn is getting tired of facing the terrible dregs of his past.

So he steers Evelyn, gently but firmly, to the entrance of the school, and pauses there in the doorway. Rain is coming down hard and fast in silver sheets, pooling between the cobblestones.

After a moment, Flynn reaches behind himself with his free arm, unclips the cape trailing his armor, and holds it out to Evelyn. ]

This should protect you from the rain. We may have to make a bit of a run for it.

[ Evelyn wants the same thing - there is nothing she would like less than to experience that again, and she takes the cape gratefully, peering out at the falling rain, imagining it washing away the blood and sins of her past. ]

I'm alright with that. Are you ready?

A little rain has never been able to stop me.

[ As long as Evelyn isn't going to get wet. That's Flynn's main concern: he's never really cared about the rain, even when it seeps into the joints of his armor. He'll get Yuri to help him polish it later, stop it from rusting.

For now, he offers Evelyn an arm and heads into the deluge, wincing at the clatter of drops on metal. His hair immediately plasters itself to his head, but Flynn just laughs and moves faster, half-shouting over the sound of the rain. ]

I hope you know where we're going!

[ Because Flynn's half-running, tugging her across the street toward the sheltered awning of another school building. ]

Another option doesn't seem likely.

[Magnus had seen Evelyn before, mostly in passing as one of the many librarians in Deerington before the shift and this new and uncharted world that laid before them. Some of it was eerily similar to some of the oldest and most archaic downworlders he knew and other things about it were entirely unique.

Magnus doesn't have a weapon, he doesn't need one, but he's confident in a way that spoke of experience with his hands in his pockets and an indifferent expression on his face.]

Ladies first or age before beauty?

Edited 2021-09-13 22:27 (UTC)

You're too kind.

[ While she's a paleblood with mostly telepathic and empathic abilities, Evelyn is certainly lithe and agile, and rather deadly with those daggers. She gives them a little twirl in her hands, settling into herself, far more at ease than she'd felt in Deerington.

The gates are opened and monsters unleashed, and she's already running, flicking each dagger right into the hearts of the creatures, landing on one knee as she yanks both free at once.

Two down, but that simply encourages the frenzy, more gates rise and more are unleashed and she looks up at her companion, a little wry. ]

I do believe it's your turn.

Both would've been you, cupcake, but I'm nothing if not chivalrous.

[She certainly seems like she's in her element and Magnus can't help but take it in. A skilled combatant is always worth an audience.

With the first two dead on arrival, Magnus takes the opportunity to step in for the next round. His eyes shift out of the glimmer he keeps to conceal them at the same moment that red smoke starts to billow from his fingertips. It drifts from his painted nails to the ground and then rockets upward like a bomb connecting with the new competitors like an orbital cannon. Limbs explode, and the miasma barely misses them when the rest of their bodies follow suit.]

How long are we going to play gladiator? Just wondering.

Well, aren't you polite.

[ She flashes a smile, keeps out of his way while she wipes her dagges off on her pants, making a small face at the bloodstains but immediately writing it off as she watches.

That...was something else. ]

I think...once that last monster dies -- [ She points with one of her daggers at the thing scuttling towards them, the last one; ]

Then we're 'free' to go. [ She says free like it doesn't mean much, because she seems to have found herself in this bloody arena more than once, each time with her daggers, each time a little bloodier. ]

Something like that. So-

[Magnus keeps his magic handy, hands shaking from the visible totality of having it all back. Finally. For the first time since his extended stay in Deerington. No messy fall-out, no days of flu- he felt rejuvenate and the adrenaline rush was visible.]

Teamwork this time or would you like the honors?

oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? [ OPEN ]

evelyn o'connell | the mummy

growing pains

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nobody saw it okay

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river of regret

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bloodsport

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