well I made amends, in the general sense, but the devil's in the details

[abduxel]

WHO: Abduxel and sometimes Nysrog and YOU!
WHERE: Anywhere!
WHEN: During the first half of the age plot. Specifically Wednesday, March 25th to Friday the 28th - feel free to back-tag if you miss this window though.
WHAT: At random time-intervals, older-and-stronger-Abduxel is wandering around all of the accessible cities as a rat, bat, or cat, staying hidden & using demonic magic to force people to re-live shameful, painful, or sinful memories. Sometimes, Nysrog comes with him to see, unhidden, chatting with the affected.
WARNINGS: I'll edit this as I go. Anything involving Abduxel's powers always deals with blood, usually his own. Given that he is bringing up peoples' shameful, violent, traumatic memories it's just probably a big walking trigger warning so yeah.



HOW THIS WORKS: There are two starters that you can reply to, (A) where Abduxel is alone and hidden, and (B) where Nysrog is there, unhidden, to talk to (good thing her presence makes people feel sadness and melancholy!!) Most of the time, Abduxel might not directly interact with your character in this log. Yes, this means I'm enthusiastically inviting you to just vomit character exposition on me, and please do take advantage. He is using blood-magic to force your character to re-live a memory under some specific emotional criteria. He will look for one of shame, regret, or trauma (extreme sadness counts). He might also look for the cardinal sins but only so long as there is some scrap of remorse, regret etc around the memory: wrath, greed, envy, lust, sloth, pride, gluttony. So in your tag, pick a location & pick a theme and run with the memory your character re-lives. Your character will be well-aware it's just a memory and not a literal re-living but they will feel the emotions (and/or physical sensations if you want) that they felt then. It's absolutely possible that some characters will be immune or be able to resist/stop the event. It will be only a single memory, or a couple of related ones. It can be as serious as you want, or it can be that time your character said something embarrassing to their crush in 8th grade; it doesn't have to be the most severe experience. Abduxel will also see the memory your character experiences. If you have questions feel free to contact me about it.

Feel free for your character to come in pairs/groups and to have a back-and-forth log with someone else, and/or to set your reply to "open to all," or to just do a stand-alone exposition on your character's feelings if that's what you want! You can treat this like a mingle log.

FOR POWERFUL CHARACTERS: If your character is going to detect Abduxel and act on it, maybe drop me a line at notforked so we can discuss logistics, because we might need a special starter for it, depending on circumstances. :)

Comments

STARTER A : Abduxel Acts Alone

[abduxel]

There are a few landmarks that the older, more powerful Abduxel visits in every city, over the course of these couple days. He hangs from the windowsills of residences at night, a bat with a third eye and raptor-like talons, dangling outside bedrooms and kitchens, in alleyways and on lampposts and surveillance cameras. He scuttles under cafe tables in the morning as a rat with three tails, finding nooks in the aging walls, crumbling burrows to eavesdrop from. Mid-afternoon, the rat slips through open windows, hides in kitchen cupboards, eats bits of cereal and watches the show. In the evenings, out back at bars and casinos, a large, hairless black cat with a long, thick rat-tail and three sets of blinking yellow eyes is nestled in the bushes.

That's when someone approaches, or maybe a couple of someones. The animal, silent and hidden, sinks teeth or claw into its own flesh, rending just enough for blood to flow. Imperceptibly quiet, he chants in dark demonic tongue. That's all it takes.

In your mind's eye, what you see next depends on the grab-bag you present him. His invisible Hell-claw reaches in and looks for something sore and scabbed, closing around one at near-random, and roughly jerking it to the surface behind your eyes. In the language of the underworld, he asks one of these questions: What are you ashamed of? What do you regret? What are your sins?

thurs the 26th

[brushoff]

This has been pretty much the world's worst week for Dorian. First, he turns old and decrepit and ugly, then he gets attacked by that crazy bitch with the eels and all he wants to do is get this fixed but he has no idea how. The idea of this being permanent is slowly reasserting itself as a worrying concern. But that's ridiculous. He can't stay like this. He refuses to stay like this.

He's hobbling down the street, using a cane that he managed to scrape up from somewhere or coax from some shop owner with his imPort tattoo on the basis of 'good publicity.' He needs to get to Chilton. With age comes pain and Dorian knows that the man has something that he can use to help get rid of these new and foreign pains he's feeling. And who knows, maybe the 'good doctor' knew something about this mess to begin with (though it was highly debatable). Perhaps—

And that's when Dorian was lost in nostalgia. He tended to be a man who dwelled in his memories, but this was something different. What are your sins. What weren't his sins. Memories of the past flashed before him (killing Yuri Petrov, snapping his sister's neck, a rather odd memory where Dorian was looking on his own body through different eyes) before settling on something far in his past. He was in an actress's dressing room, back in the 1880s, Dorian looking exactly the same as he did in Heropa and yet different. There wasn't the hardness, that air of cruelty he carried with him. He was talking to a young blonde girl (who his memory supplied as Sibyl Vane).

"You have killed my love," Dorian in the memory remarked. Sibyl was crying, she was distraught, taken aback as Dorian attacked her, words driving in like daggers as he continued his diatribe. "How little you can know of love, if you say it mars your art! Without your art, you are nothing. I would have made you famous, splendid, magnificent. The world would have worshipped you, and you would have borne my name. What are you now? A third-rate actress with a pretty face." The words continues, the diatribe went on, and eventually poor Sibyl threw herself at Dorian's feet.

"Dorian, Dorian, don't leave me!" she whispered. And Dorian himself, the Dorian who was viewing the memory knew what would happen, what was going to happen, why did he keep thinking about this?

[abduxel]

Dorian, Dorian, Dorian.

The young, handsome, soulless immortal he'd flirted with at his Swear-In. Abduxel hardly recognized him at first in his decrepit state. What did the soulless have to regret, he wondered? There must be so many sins. The demon feels a swell of pride that his aged form is magnificent, not weathered-down like this, but he's overtaken watching Dorian's memory with fascination. His personality is different right now, though he's always nosy and trying to get his fingers into peoples' minds and souls, now - in his aged state - he has no regard for what might happen then, and a far deeper hunger. All he can think about. Tell me more.

He tries to push on forward with the memory, a disfigured bat hanging on a streetlight above, whispering a second incantation. What would happen then?

[brushoff]

It continued, with Sibyl pleading to a disgruntled Dorian, who seemed to take no notice of her at all. "Don't be cruel to me, because I love you better than anything in the world. After all, it is only once that I have not pleased you. But you are quite right, Dorian. I should have shown myself more of an artist. It was foolish of me, and yet I couldn't help it. Oh, don't leave me, don't leave me!" She broke down crying, practically throwing herself at his feet. And then...instead of feeling sympathy, instead of feeling shame at his cruel words, Dorian could only feel embarrassment and annoyance.

Really, must she be so melodramatic? Such crying, those wet, sloppy, disgusting tears. How could he ever have loved someone as melodramatic as that? What on earth could he possibly be thinking? And, what on earth could she possibly be thinking, performing such a shameless response like that. Now, more than ever he was certain in his belief that getting rid of her was the right thing to do. He looked at Sibyl with an expression of disdain before saying, "I am going. I don't wish to be unkind, but I can't see you again. You have disappointed me"

He left the actress, crying on the floor, as the memory started to fade away and Dorian turned back to reality, still leaning against his cane, absolutely confused as to why he had thought of that, blinking back the memory with an uneasy look on his face.

friday

[footnoting]

These days, Bartimaeus doesn't get enough chances to stretch his essence.

He's been on near constant Kitty Jones watch since the events late in February, following her around and making sure she's not getting in trouble, keeping her company as she slowly gets her strength back, making sarcastic comments whenever he's able in order to keep up even a guise of his "I genuinely dislike humanity" act. But since this whole aging business kicked off, when he was stuck watching over a Kitty Jones that not only was wary about his very existence, but also removed from the same kind of insanity that almost gets her killed nine times out of ten-- well. He's taking advantage of a nice evening to go for a flight.

It's just an hour past sunset when a raven lands on a street light, one wing reaching up to rub at the side of its beak before it lets out a sigh and lets itself drop. His body becomes smoke as it drifts towards the ground slowly and lazily, solidifying once more into the everyday form of an orange tabby going to walk its way down the street.

Which is when, with the cold feeling of something reaching out to try and play, Bartimaeus blinks, and finds his mind drawn back to old Egypt. He's flying, a frail and small body held tight to his chest, fingers clutched tight against skin and fur, the iron they insisted Ptolemy at least keep hidden away on his body biting into his essence, making him feel both sick and dizzy even as he flies. The wind is whistling past folded back ears, his mane whipping back and forth as mighty wings flap behind his back.

A burst of light- fire burning - Ptolemy lets out a noise and Bartimaeus roars. His wings are still beating, desperate to correct a sudden imbalance, his essence rushing forward to try and heal itself, to work against the Detonation that had seared right through his weakened shields. He sees the temple in front of him, and turns to shield the frail, old-but-not-old boy in his arms. His already injured side hits the building first, but he grits his teeth and bears it, falls through the crumbling stone and sets the shaking body in his arms down with care, ignoring the smell of blood in the air and the strange pallor to Ptolemy's skin.

Outside of the memory, the cat's come to a stop, sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, tail swishing back and forth slowly behind him, yellow eyes blinking slowly. His mind is drawn to the memory, layer upon layer of conscious thought weaving back together- but he does fight it. He turns his head, blinks once and the world is a series of layers, a flipbook of magical energy before it fades back to that first, normal plane, and the last stray train of thought sinks into the sands of Alexandria. To a lion-headed warrior with a broken wing and a burnt mane. To a young scholar whose skin is wrinkled, his muscles dead things encased with sagging skin, coughing a weak but steady stream of blood.

To the desperate but sturdy shields and the hammering of Detonations against them. To a djinni ready to make his last stand to protect the precious life of the one human who'd ever shown him decency.

STARTER B : Demon Dream Team

[hubris]

Most humans will hear Nysrog before they notice her, though the low, humming sound she emits is difficult to place. Still, the observant may look around, pause in the midst of their walk to try and find the source of the noise, and in the process recognize Nysrog from the swear-in or just about town. She is dressed all in nondescript, black clothing, in a military-issue (foreign military, however, it is obvious) oversized coat.

She will be lingering in multiple places in the cities throughout the day, often sitting or standing a little away from everyone else, but her eyes piercing. Standing near her makes the pain of Abduxel's meddling more acute: melancholy seeps into your thoughts, and you have trouble pushing away the dark thoughts brought to the front of your mind.

"Are you alright?" she asks, approaching.