Field Mission 5: Il Prigioniero, Part 2

[balancemod]

Once you sacrifice something here, you don't get it back. NAVIGATION Click here for the RNG thread! 1. THE MANAGER'S CHALLENGE A. MEET THE BOSS Once upon a time, there was a man, a woman, and a little boy. They were a family. They loved each other very much. Once upon a time, there was a monster, a protector, and a dreamer. They never asked to be a family. One by one, they fell under the pressures of each other. There are always layers to any story. There are at least two sides to any reality. When a man kills his wife with no consequences, what is the end of the story? Will the universe allow such an unhappy ending? Or are there forces that drag it on long past its natural span? With a single act of resistance, four Reclaimers have Remembered and thereby broken the cycle of the Night Show. But this isn't the end. This is barely the middle. Because the Wonderland you've seen so far is a layer of new pink skin over an ugly infection, one that goes deeper than anything the Bureau has seen so far. You can see what's underneath, now, as the theme park is whipped away in an implosion of void-space to show you . . . Emptiness. A space that is no space, blank and white in all directions. Free of gravity, every Reclaimer in the park — and, shockingly, Angus McDonald — is held in place with hands cupped and outstretched in front of them, all facing the same way. They cannot move. They cannot speak. They are the audience. Before them stands a man. Slim, tall, nondescript. He wears a bow-tie with a pattern of Rolands on it. And he is smiling. "Welcome to my Wonderland! My name is Adrian Morgenstern, and I am the Manager. It's a pleasure to meet you. Each and every one of you have had a very interesting effect on my Wonderland in my absence. Some more than others, and at greater cost to yourselves — but I encourage individual choice in Wonderland, and ownership of personal consequences. Suffering is a part of life. It builds character. "So, I am proud of you. So proud, in fact, that I've decided to bring you all backstage. You kept trying to see behind the curtain, didn't you? You'll really enjoy it. There is a great deal to do, so much to explore, and so many games to play. Every second you breathe in Wonderland is a game with stratospheric stakes. You're very brave to take the risk. "And to make things more interesting, I have set up a very special game for you little detectives, who so love to stick their noses into strange secret corners. I challenge you to a Scavenger Hunt. You accept, because you have no choice. Here is what you must gather: "The vacant bodies of Leonardo da Vinci, Minato Arisato, and Henrik Merryweather. The people who have been lured here after your carelessness shattered their livelihood. Have you located them all already? Or did you miss a few? Ten lost little elves, misled and apprehended. And, lastly— "My son. Bring me my son. Bring Niel to me, and I will give you the Compact." There's a crack in the facade. A literal crack; something in the structure of his face is off suddenly, like something has fractured and slid. One cheekbone higher than the other, a hairline fracture underneath his eye. You blink, and it's fixed. His smile is wide, but his face is whole. Suddenly, in each Reclaimer's outstretched hands (and in Angus's), there is a single three-sided die. On each side is written a word: BODY, MIND, or SPIRIT. "Don't lose these, now! These are your cheat codes. If you find yourself struggling with the scavenger hunt and in need of a little help, you can play a little game of chance to give Wonderland something of yours. It won't take anything that will kill you, don't worry. But it will take things that matter, and it won't give them back. "One more thing, and then I'll let you go. I've given you some cheats, but in order to keep you from finishing the game too quickly, I'm taking something away, too. Everyone, please take good care of yourselves while you're here. You're all precious cargo. And there's no healing in Wonderland." He winks. And blinks out of existence. And suddenly, the nonspace you occupied is gone, and you are Somewhere Else. Back to top 2. WONDERLAND, UNDER THE SKIN B. THE ILLUSION COMES DOWN CW: Emetophobia, body horror, reality caving in on itself For a short time after Adrian leaves, everything is as it should be. Wonderland is Wonderland, but quiet and still aside from the background music. After a few breaths, heartbeats slowing, the music warps and bends like rotting wood, going further and further off key until it grinds. Clangs once, loudly, down to your bones, and halts. The world freezes in absolute silence. Then. A sizzling noise. Burning paper. The illusion starts to die. To your left, the floor peels up like it's made of paper, mist, waving like a mirage before your eyes. Colorful red velvet floors reveal dark green and glowing violet moss and fungus. Gold tile floors give way to ebony wood, gone rock solid in atrophy. Disease. A small black vine reaches from the floor towards you, towards Life, but withers and hardens before your eyes. You need to leave. To your right, a wall bleeds. Is it actually blood? Sap? The color seems to run away from your eyes - goldredwhiteyellowblackblackblack - covered with an iridescent sheen, an oil slick, pouring out and up and towards in ways that burn your eyes and soul. You need to leave. All around you, the Wonderland you've come to know burns like shadows in sunlight, or sunlight to shadow. The ceiling and walls and everything morphs to the inside of some unfathomably large tree. Roots and branches and gouged out holes, forming paths of the most non-ecludian sort. Some... things out of sight climb up and down in the darkness, looking for purchase, escape, travel. Far too many limbs, or none at all. You need to LEAVE. Not yet. You want to help. You need to help. You grab the nearest non-reclaimer - an elf, a visitor, someone - and they are both far too light and far too heavy. Stiff like wood in your hands. Their skin is gray, ashen, black veins in porcelain skin. Eyes gone solid black, they try to say something, but all that comes out is a spew of thick black tar - leaking from their eyes, ears, nose, vomit, cracks in their joints and once-flesh. The amorphous Black they just expelled pulses, then skitters down between the wood at your feet. You look at your skin. Your veins are too dark. Visible. Present. A weight builds in your heart, The Reclaimers (and Angus) can still move, bolt for what was once a cascade of colors, lights and joy. Now it's a gaping maw, jagged edges like splintered teeth around a hole like a cavity, sap like pus seeping out of the edges. The once-elevator now-branches bring you back to Shadowdale, covered in a charcoal smog that seems to smile at you from every angle. C. THE CAVALRY ARRIVES Lucretia, after receiving Sans' text about the current state of affairs within Wonderland, is faced with a decision that only she could make. Years ago, she came upon this place and lost decades of her life, all in an attempt to stop the mechanations of this horrific landscape. Her biggest failure, a thorn in her pride, she assembled the Bureau of Balance not long after her visit in order to take down places like this. People or things who obtain a power they should not have. She doesn't know why Wonderland is the way that it is, she can only guess that the Grand Relic has corrupted the World Tree down to its core. But more than that, more than the years she put onto her life for a wager of chess, more than the meticulous, maddening obsession she has with destroying every single one of these objects that threaten the world- her Reclaimers are here. Her Reclaimers. Against the judgment of most of her advisers and Moon Base employees, she grits her teeth and holds tight to her staff. Carey, Killian, and Lucretia descend upon the forests of the Cormanthor region. It takes them far, far too long to make it through the wilds. The forest can sense when someone is coming to destroy it, and thus, sends everything it can against them. Enchantment after enchantment gets flung their way, but she knows better. She's seen Wonderland before and she reckons that no one has ever visited this place twice. Arriving in Shadowdale, she looks up to see Yggdrasil in its sad, sorry state. Clasping her staff in place, finally here, she is resplendent in her detestation of this unholy place. A few of you might be there at the base of the tree when Wonderland transforms into its hellscape, and you might see her approaching, purposeful, as if every step is one of reclamation and poise. Angus McDonald looks upon her and tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is that's going on. Lucretia warmly smiles at him. "Hello, Angus. I've heard much about you." "Ma'am?" But her attention is turned to another little boy, terrified otherwise. His face is darkened, sickly colors rooting through his veins and showing up against a pale skin. Niel. Ah, she remembers him, too. Her face gives no sign of anger, of fear, or resentment. "Don't worry, Niel. We'll free you from that monster." She doesn't renege on her promises. Lucretia slams her white oak staff on the ground and in an instant, a flash of brilliant luminescence fills all of Shadowdale, expelling the darkness that lingers around the corners of the sleeping town. She erects a magic dome from the center of her origin, expanding out from her as she concentrates on her magic. Lucretia's gifted in the arcane herself, you see, and a giant Globe of Invulnerability spell now blocks entrance nor exit from this zone. And for the first time in centuries, Shadowdale sees sunlight. Carey and Killian flank her. She needs to concentrate on this spell in order to keep it active, and they're there to stop anyone who thinks about getting in her way. D. NEW RULES OF WONDERLAND It's a zero-sum game here that Adrian is wagering. Lucretia didn't bring Dr. Tank down to Shadowdale for a very specific reason; an expert chess player herself, she always thinks in terms of move by move encounters. She figures that the rules would change quickly once the Reclaimers had figured out what was behind the curtain, so to speak. There's no way that Wonderland would allow healing or restoration of a body within its confines. She aims to cut this place off from the outside world. To quarantine it away from escape and cage it inward like an animal. No, Dr. Tank would be useless here, and if anything... dangerous, to put their chief of medical staff here in the middle of the mission. And thus, no one can come in or out of the area once she's erected the barrier. Returning to base is no longer an option for the remainder of the mission, including any and all facilities provided by its administration: Bender's food, Fantasy Costco, items you may have left behind, etc. Those of you who have opted out of the horror plot for the month will most likely be spending your time in Shadowdale for the next two weeks, providing back up and support to Lucretia. The work you do out here is equally as important as the work that needs to be done on the inside. Whereas the forest was quiet and still before, it seems to have taken on a new life of its own, now that it senses the Source of its life deeply threatened. Killian takes command from here on out. Anyone not willing to go up to Wonderland needs to stay down here and stop the encroaching darkness from attacking. And she means that, literally. As you look around the outskirts of town, the dome extending well beyond the vantage point you can see, there are creatures, made of darkness, dripping a deeply red sap that sparkles in the newfound texture of light Lucretia's spell provides. One bounds forward from the edge of a building, four legs crawling and made of pure shadow, and attempts to make an attack towards the Director. Carey cuts it down as it splits into two and vanquishes into a dark dust. "What the hell are these ugly gods-damned things?!" Some of you might've noticed it before in your rolls, but in the light provided by Lucretia's spell, there's no denying it. Negativity forms a dark cloud straight from Carey's mouth, as her eyes go wide at the sight of it. The monster at her feet, now a cloud of dust, seems to feed on it as it reassembles back into its form. What the actual fuck. Back to top 3. A TASTE OF GOOD SUFFERING E. REEDS GROWING OUT OF MY FINGERTIPS The Wonderland the Reclaimers and Angus find themselves in now looks nothing like the Wonderland they left behind. The feel of it is similar, except that the creeping dread has officially crept. It's here now, fully-formed and breathing down the back of every single neck. What was whispered before is screamed now: Wonderland is here to hurt you. The fun it seeks is not for you, but fuel for something else, something you haven't found yet. Nonetheless, you're here to feed it. And so, you begin to realize, is Yggdrasil. The naturally-minded among you begin to realize it with sickening certainty: the roots, the veins, the stiffness and the ever-present tarlike substance stem from the sickness of the World Tree. Wonderland, and all of you, are within Yggdrasil's rot now — and as much as it tries to reject this magic, the insidious power of the Compact has taken over too far. The tree is dying. Inside of it as you are, you can practically feel it. The entire place is a warren, structured like the tree it's draining the life out of. From the central trunk, the central locations that used to be Squares slide off from the main body in long, twisting branches that turn in nonsensical directions before abruptly coming to a halt. Each Square exists in uncomfortable parody here — or maybe the original was the cruel joke, because the purpose of Wonderland is suffering. At any turn in your path through the channels of Wonderland, you'll be swimming through darkness creeping in on all sides. No light can penetrate past your periphery, with very few exceptions; you are a moving lantern in this blackness, functioning on faith that whatever comes at you, a mystery until the last moment, will be something you can handle. Stumble into Battle Square and find yourself face-to-face with a monster of vicious intelligence and amorphous shape, delighted to cut you to ribbons over a period of hours while telling you every secret shame you've ever harbored. In Event Square, a knot midway up the endless trunk, time goes taffy-sticky as you trip through loops of memory blasted on every wall, loud and confusing and overwhelming, going on for what seems like forever. There's more, of course — more discrete spaces than you could even see in Wonderland. Any manner of horror you can consider can be found here, as vast as Yggdrasil itself. One or two places, though, will be particularly easy to recognize — and difficult to escape. F. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU Sometimes, investigation gives us little tips and tricks for solving the next stage of the puzzle. For example: Michael found a map to the mirror maze, back in the first iteration of Wonderland. But unfortunately, sometimes the setting also cheats. Ghost Square is still here — but maps aren't going to do you any good. Enter this section of Wonderland and the door behind you doesn't exist anymore. It doesn't pop out of existence; it just isn't, like it never was, like maybe you imagined it in the first place. A hallway, apparently manmade, stretches out in front of you, dark and cold. It appears to be approximately 60 feet long. The walls are black. When you reach out to touch them, they are freezing to the touch and too smooth to be natural, not shiny enough to be polished, too hard to be plant matter. You have no idea what they are, but touching them saps the warmth out of you, so you stop. You keep walking, a halo of light around you but stretching no further than a few feet in any direction. You walk for 60 feet. The hallway keeps going. It hasn't gotten longer, but it hasn't gotten shorter, either. It keeps going. It keeps going. You continue until your feet hurt or you get sick of this bullshit, whichever comes first, and then you turn back the way you came. Maybe you think you'll see a door, or maybe you're not thinking very clearly anymore. Back the way you came, there is a staircase. It wasn't there before. You certainly didn't pass it. It spirals down into the depths. It could be a story deep or a hundred. You have no way to know. You turn back towards the direction you originally walked, and there is only a wall. It's the spiral staircase or it's nothing. You go down. As you descend, it gets colder. Colder and darker, and the darkness and cold press against you, creep under your skin and make you shake. The halo of light around you begins to dim the deeper you go. If you go deep enough, it will be hard to tell what's light and what's your imagination. Because really, honestly? The longer you stay in this place, the more you begin to think you're hearing things. Whispers just beyond your ability to decipher. A soft laugh, like that of a child or someone trying to stay quiet. And if you stop, or rest, or feel something negative — anger, frustration, sorrow, despair, it doesn't matter, because a black fog drifts out from between your lips. And in the distance, something roars. Just a little bit closer every time. Every once in a while, as you descend the staircase, you will pass a mirror with a red X taped near the top. Sometimes you'll see yourself in it. Sometimes you'll see something worse. When you get right down to it, what you get out of the world has a lot to do with what you put in — so we hope you're staying positive, or you might see something really nasty. G. THE SONG BEYOND THE SONG The aftermath of MARIA's destruction, the Area That Was Once The Night Show is a blasted husk. More than anywhere else, the walls ooze Yggdrasil's lifeblood from where something... was. Something large used to be chained here. Open gashes and empty sockets line the walls and floor. A large root knotted like a spine shoots through the very center of the room, a support pillar, entwined into the ceiling and floor and Everything of this cavern. Growths like tumors rise from the floor - what was once gambling tables look more like grasping hands. A few curl into themselves, knocked over, shattered to splinters in the wake of what was once there. Maria is gone. She is free. There is a sob. Small. Weak. Mortal. At the base of the pillar, half-absorbed into the plant matter of Yggdrasil is Stylosa. Black roots creep up through her arms, chest, face. Her tears are tinged black, but the eyes are still hers. One arm reaches out. She whispers 'please help, it hurt̷̟͂s̶͕̓ ̵̻͂ĩ̸̺t̸͔͐ ̴͙̍ḧ̷̜́ù̸̘r̶̢̓t̶́͜s̸̫͒ ̸͑ͅî̶̺Ṱ̴̿ ̵̠̃H̷̙͊U̸̻̒R̶̯͛T̸͓͠S̸̢͌`- The world goes static, right then wrong then right again, and the original Wonderland surrounds you. Silent - for a second. An explosion of color and canned applause comes from behind you. What was once a stage opens once more. There is the Henrik some of you were searching for, skin plaster, eyes matte black, a rigor mortis smile across his face. His voice booms out of speakers that aren't there. "Welcome, one and all, as we embark on this, our first night! To the new and improved Night Show, with one hundred percent more audience participation!!! Guaranteed to keep you rooted to your seats, haha!" Confetti falls from nowhere, more false cheers from an invisible audience. He bows, stiff and chipped as a wind-up toy. It gives you a chance to angle your gaze to where there used to be an exit. It is there no longer. Doors appear and disappear in wrong places. Chandeliers swap between designs. The new Show is still trying to acclimate itself. "Now, I know some of you have had a bad time here before, but please romaine calm. We-" And then Da Vinci's Body, appearing from nowhere, the same black eyes and battered smile, smacks him upside the head. A slapstick comedy in all the worst ways. "That one doesn't work! We're in an ash tree!" "No, we're in a cactus!" "Ahahaha! Oh, Henrik, you know I'm a succa for your jokes!" Both them and the invisible audience crack out into raucous laughter, doing matching poses like they're both on the cover of Vogue magazine. They whisper something to each other and 'Da Vinci' runs off stage to prepare. "Tonight, in celebration, we'll be holding our first ever... talent show!!! Our main acts are just boooring now. You know what I mean? Look at this mess-" A hand waves out, and Minato unfolds up from the floor, harp welded into his hands, painted and decorated and held in place with pipes and wire. 'Da Vinci' waves her arms, unveiling the elaborate music box. His hands play against his will, plinking out the sad notes to a certain Velvet Room theme. He gets left alone in tired silence for a bit before a note goes off key. 'Da Vinci' yanks his face into the same smile, freezing it in place. TODAY IS A JOYOUS DAY, we are all so very HAPPY, and the eyes of 'Minato' go black. The room is filled with cheers and rainbows, an excited irish jig played out by their wind-up stage musician. 'Henrik' doesn't wander the room, choosing instead to make sure the background music keeps going. The statues and paintings once lining the walls bend before your eyes - reforming into memories from your home, replays of your failures, but all done up in catchy pop-art style and played for hilarity. Rather than Marias, all newcomers are visited by a black-eyed ghoul wearing a human skin. They hand out drinks and paperwork, what would you like to participate with in our talent show? The winner not only gets a job but- One wish from the Compact. Surely that's way more interesting than trying to get out, right? Back to top 4. OOC In order to keep to our goal of providing the most personalized Wonderland experience for all of you, we're setting a limit of 1 RNG attempt per character this log. Additionally, please be aware that while some mundane rolls will have standard-level DCs, many rolls, including those with the potential to uncover plot information, will be high-risk high-reward and will have a very high DC along with steep penalties for failure. As always, we will let you know of this before we roll, and you have the option to decline any roll at any time. If you would like to gain a bonus of +2 on any given roll, those who have opted in to horror content may make the choice to sacrifice something of body, mind, or spirit. We will determine your sacrifice based on your horror homework. It is up to you whether this sacrifice is for the duration of the mission or a permanent sacrifice. As an additional reminder, there is no healing in Wonderland. To a few of you, this will be even more detrimental than usual. To those of you who went too far with your debts or your choices, who have lost your very Selves to Wonderland. A list: ○ Michael ○ Kaede Akamatsu ○ Minato Arisato ○ Akira Kurusu ○ Guido Mista ○ Ryuji Sakamoto ○ Leonardo da Vinci ○ Willard H. Wright Despite Lucretia's spell, the Light won't effect you guys. Over the course of part 2 you'll find you're slowly falling prey to what hit everyone else in wonderland. Your skin will turn pale, your veins will turn dark, you'll start vomiting viscous Abyss that occasionally comes to life, and eventually your eyes will turn black and you will Petrify. Should you as a player not want to play out the vomiting part, it can be exchanged with breathing out black mist. Whichever's cool with your school guys. The speed/intensity of this change and all of its symptoms is also up to you. There are two exceptions. Da Vinci, while she is still a Roland, will simply start going rotten, seams growing old and fur collapsing away. Constant Mending will mitigate this, but she's on a timer to get her body back now. Willard will find that as the hardening of the glass continues, it will start to lose all color and begin to crack in places. These cracks will leak the same tar infecting the other players. Minato, despite being a Music Box right now, is still in his physical body and is not an exception. On a more general note, we encourage you to make your own mini-horrorscapes in this setting! The entirety of Wonderland is available to dark-side, with the exception of what we've already laid out for Ghost & Wonder Squares. Improvise and make a mess. Just make sure to tag anything warning-worthy. Anything on the OOC post is fair game, and if there's something you'd like to try, please don't hesitate to let us know on the RNG thread. Should you have any questions, please direct them to the OOC post linked above. Back to top blurb code by photosynthesis

Comments

[eudaimonikos]

Bandages, disinfectant. Maybe some painkillers, if there's any that aren't magic-based.

[They must have that, right? Humans have had painkillers for ages. 

Michael's medical training thus far has been pretty basic, but he thinks it's more than enough to properly use anything here. It's only a local pharmacy, and anything he does will be with the aim of getting the person back out here anyway.]

Do they have anything for stitches? I know how to do that. [They didn't teach it to him in First Aid 101, but that's just called repurposing old skills!]

[dialetheism]

We have plenty of the first two, and... there's likely some of the third around, though I'm not entirely sure how to identify what would be a safe dose. You're welcome to try regardless - the herbal things are in that box over there.

[ Fantasy painkillers weren't high on their list of things to research on the base- why bother? Cure Wounds did all that and more, for the low low price of free. Which is stupid in hindsight, but there's no sense grumbling about that now.

Still, they point at the dubiously remedial box in question before snapping their journal shut and going to fetch some of the iodine that Mia found. But that still leaves one to go, doesn't it? ]

As for stitches... hm. I haven't found anything, and I wouldn't know what to use. [ Best Cleric ever, y'all. ] But I could... try digging through Will's BIAS, if there's an immediate need? Knowing what he's like, he's likely prepared for anything short of a localised apocalypse.

[ And he's questionably attached to reality, so it's fine! He won't even notice. How lucky are you feeling, Michael? Do you trust... The Bag™? ]

[eudaimonikos]

[Michael frowns at the box of herbs, and goes to inspect it while Lion fetches the iodine.]

They talked about this some in my class. But there was always an underlying assumption that we'd have potions or something on hand. It was more about handling minor things on our own, and maybe making sure someone else was well enough to get back to a healer.

[Shortsighted, yeah. If he'd had more time, Michael would have studied it more in-depth; he'd planned on the advanced courses anyway. But the generic dosage instructions for the average humanoid should be enough, right? He'll take some of this.]

I wouldn't say there's an immediate need at all. I just don't want there to be one. People...people and their swords here, it's all very retro. 

[Eleanor and her sword wounds. What if Dr. Tank hadn't been there that day? Those would have needed to be closed. 

Michael peers dubiously at the bag, and then ventures a look inside. He probably won't need that stuff, but he'll have a hard time forgiving himself if he does and he didn't grab them.]

How is Will? I was going to try to help with his mirror thing, but then - [you know, this happened]

[dialetheism]

The same in mine. Combat class at least covered some more practical first aid for a time, but... even then, why focus on it when you can just wave a hand and make the problem go away entirely?

[ Is it obvious how much they're kicking themself for that? They really should have known better.

Still, iodine get, along with some cotton swabs for good measure. And the bandages are nearby, so that's simple enough too. Leaves them more time to fret over what's being said. ]

It never hurts to be prepared, I suppose. And I've found the wildlife to be the worse threat in that regard.

[ More of a half-hearted mantra then any real attempt at reply. If they sounded short before, they're exhausted now. ]

I... saw the offer, yes. [ And that's a loaded phrase all by itself. But what's elaborating on badly repressed feelings, haha- ] He's... still alive, for now. But the glass is getting worse.

[ Meanwhile, in The Bag: holy shit, that is way too many knives. An absolutely ludicrous amount of knives, all sheathed and tucked away in various pockets. Also hydrochloric acid, and disposable lighters, and other less savoury emergency first aid-and-or-torture implements that Michael might recognise. But hey, there's a sewing kit. Y'know, underneath some more knives.

What the fuck, Will. ]

[eudaimonikos]

[What are you talking about, this seems like an eminently reasonable kit! Not that Michael carries anything similar himself, but he would have hydrochloric acid if he knew where the hell Will got it from, damn.]

Doubt I can try it now...

[For some reason, he feels like he's not even slightly in charge of the haunted house anymore!

Michael stuffs the sewing kit in his bag, and contemplates one of the knives before turning to gather up the bandages instead. He's not completely unprepared; he brought his own knives. Though he's working to pack everything in as efficiently as possible, his hands still as Lion describes Will's condition.]

Is it going to kill him?

[He'd thought maybe it wouldn't. It was some unknown magical curse, and...well, maybe he's always quicker to think of things as tortures.]

[dialetheism]

Even if you did, it might not work the way that you wanted it to out of sheer spite.

[ Michael has obtained +1 "Sewing Kit". And by sewing kit, we mean a very roughshod field surgery kit, because Will has negative chill and put fishing twine and a lighter in there. Among other things.

But that's a hell of a question, and at first there's only silence in response. They have no distractions now. No idle dodges around thinking about it. So the reply, when it comes, lacks even their previous sense of exhaustion. For a moment they just sound small and painfully uncertain. ]

I don't know. I really don't.

[ There's a wisp of black fog as they sigh, and then the moment passes. The feeling goes back into a box, to be dealt with Later, when Later finally comes calling. They have more important things to do instead. ]

Practically speaking, it was spreading before we went to the night show, which has since stopped. [ That's good- ] But that's because that- place made him bet against it, I think, and now it's... all of him.

[ -nevermind, that's bad. There is a surprising amount of venom in the word 'place', before they wrestle it under control and continue speaking in that same flat tone. ] I can't see how it could get worse, but I also can't see how it could get better. And that's before taking into account how brittle glass can be under strain.

[ That's not weirdly specific or anything, is it. ]

I'm... hoping that someone has an idea on how to fix it, once all of this is done.

tw: emeto

[eudaimonikos]

[Michael listens quietly, sitting back to lean against the nearest shelf, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds bad. It sounds bad, and so does Lion. 

Something cold and wet forces its way up the back of his throat, and he coughs once into the back of his hand before swallowing it back down. Vile human body; it still does unexpected things sometimes. It's vulnerable in ways he wouldn't be.]

I don't mean to suggest anything right now...

[He says, soft and careful, because he sort of does. But he knows how this could sound. Discarding a vessel isn't much to his kind; it's a little paperwork, a slight hassle, no worse than moving from one hotel room to the next. And if your current room was infested with bedbugs, say, wouldn't it be better in the long run to just move right away? Not suffer along until it became truly uninhabitable?

To a human, though, the death of the body is - it's everything. Besides, Michael doesn't quite know the mechanics of it here. There's no way it's the same as swapping bodies in the afterlife. Will mentioned having to do it before. Was it bad then?]

...but what's the worst that might happen if he died right now?

[dialetheism]

[ It's funny, the kind of funny that's not actually funny at all. Will had told them once that honing their curiosity was a good habit to practice, something worth nurturing, even if they might eventually regret it. At the time they'd waved the thought away - why would they regret something like that?

Now they know better. Being more perceptive means you can't help but notice things, whether you want to or not.

They watch Michael for another long moment, mouth set in a thin, worried line. But they don't comment on the coughing. What good would it do? They can't help. ]

By asking that, you are suggesting something. [ And they can't help but sound ever-so-slightly accusatory, despite his soothing efforts. It's not his fault, they can't blame him, but they're not stupid either. ] But... that depends on a few things, I suppose.

[ It's a good question. They hate that it's a good question so much, because they shouldn't even be contemplating this. Even knowing what they know about Will - hell, about their shared world, about here - doesn't ease that protective need to shoot the idea down outright. In the end, they don't. Because it's the exact sort of thing he would grant to anyone else in his stead.

But they need to be sure about what terminology to use, so they... very unsubtly flick open their notebook to check the page of "people who Know About Will". Please excuse them, they're a bit forgetful. ]

Even setting aside the price you pay for dying, that would only work if the damage was limited to his physical body. [ They chew their lip, taking a chance. ] If- if it's in him, would that....?

[ The... squishy angel bit inside, that they can't bring themself to name. They don't know how much Michael knows, but Will made it clear he knows about that, at least. ]

[eudaimonikos]

I'm not suggesting that I'll try something.

[Like, fair point, he was suggesting it. But he really wouldn't take any action. This is Will's decision, while he can make them, and Lion's if ever he can't. If it were Michael, he'd want Eleanor to choose.

At their question, though, he just grimaces. Yes, he knows what they mean.]

That'd be a hell of a thing, if it could get him. But I don't...think that I could tell, from here. Not like this.

[He gestures listlessly at himself, the vessel he can't wriggle out of now even if he tried.]

And one of the mirrors - I was in the maze with him before, and for a moment one of the mirrors reflected him. The real him. Last I checked, that shouldn't even be physically possible.

[So maybe Lion is right? Normally Michael would be entirely confident that nothing on this plane could really touch an immortal...but nothing here should be able to see them, either.]

[dialetheism]

I know, I know...

[ Breathe out, stop being so defensive, it's not his fault. It's not fair to lash out like that. Even if every subsequent word makes them want to clamp their hands over their ears like some spoiled, stubborn child.

But they don't. Will would never forgive them if they ran from this. Michael is left to explain as they stare at their notebook, not reading the words but just- blankly. Thinking. Hating themself for considering it, just a little bit, but not enough to stop. ]

... If that's the case, then... [ No. Say it. ] Then he might be in trouble. It spread to his wings.

[ It's fine. It's fine!! Everything is super duper fine and they're totally not desperately fighting to keep their voice level. Just focus on the facts, Lion. ]

I don't- I don't know the extent, exactly. [ That's a lie, but they want- need to believe that it hasn't gone too far. ] Only that he- removed them, to slow it down. That would likely continue to affect him if he died and was revived, then, wouldn't it?

[ He knows more then them, or convincingly sounds like he does. And right now they're painfully aware of how far out of their depth they really are. ]

[eudaimonikos]

He...removed his wings. Alright.

[Michael knew Will had wings. But that's only because he's seen it, and not because he'd have expected as much. All the other immortals he meets seem so much more...classically Biblical. Is it especially bad for an angel like that to lose their wings?

More concerning, really, is that Will can apparently just lop parts of himself off.]

If...yes, it would. As far as I know...obviously I don't really know how he works, specifically. Our worlds have different rules, we've talked about it before... [He speaks haltingly, disturbed and trying not to show it. The death of a vessel wouldn't fix damage like that. Not if you tore your true self apart.] Destroying the Relic might stop it. Or...whatever the Bureau does with those.

[dialetheism]

I don't know how he works, either. Not... really.

[ At first, they don't realise they've admitted that out loud. It's more of a mumble then anything else, only solidified as a complaint by the wisp of black smog that comes with it- which they seem genuinely surprised by. They... they do know him, don't they? But there's so much that they don't know. Like the fact that he had wings at all until they saw them reflected in a mirror, haunting and resplendent.

Not the time. Focus. ]

Even if your rules are... different, you'd likely have a better guess then I ever would. [ Wait no they were trying to avoid that part- ] If- if the Relic caused it, that... would make sense. And that's at least something to work towards - I mean, it's what we came here to do, regardless of... recent complications.

[ And now they have even more motivation then most to see that stupid thing ruined- okay no back it up, that's a very unfortunate train of thought to follow. But there's a question hidden in there, or something they can answer, at any rate - so they rally themself around it, ]

As far as I know, we destroy them in a controlled enviornment. The Director made a public showing of eliminating the first one we retrieved - the Space Mittens, from New Aspen. It was... [ What's a good word to summarise how Off they feel about the whole situation, looking back on it with recent context? ] ... rather dramatic.

[ Nailed it. ] They haven't shown us since. I suppose that initial demonstration was intended to be enough - though after Lyrabar, I can understand why it needs to be... ah. Like that.

[ Controlled. Precise. Not that awful, world-shaking explosion that could be seen all the way from the city's docks. ]

[eudaimonikos]

Yeah, I was there when the Soul Blade exploded. Not a great time for anyone.

[The fact that the Director apparently just squirrels the others away and does who knows what with them...well, it's noted, but there's so many other immediate concerns that Michael isn't going to worry about that just now. At least it's clear she isn't using them herself.]

Seems like focusing on the Relic might be the best move for now. I don't think I can really interact with him - the real him - like this. [He lifts a hand listlessly, looking at it. He doesn't mind his vessel on principle, but ever since coming to Faerun he's been a lot more bound to it than he's used to.] Don't know what exactly I'd do anyway. My kind can take each other apart, but I don't think any of us have ever tried to fix anyone afterwards.

[Retirement's a final punishment. Management wouldn't reverse their decision, and no one else would ever dare interfere.]