EVENT | LANDFALL | KITHIKA | BOTTLE

[cherrywood]

Characters: ALL!
Date: February 12th - 28th
Location: Kithika, inside the bottle
Situation: The discovery of an artifact from the first war against Malicant reveals the land of Kithika within a dimension of the Death Plane... and just happens to be contained inside a bottle.
Warnings/Rating: Please indicate content warnings in subject headers as applicable.

OOC INFORMATION ♦ CITY OF KEELIAI ♦ INSIDE THE BOTTLE ♦ THE WORLD EATER
Arriving in Kithika is unpleasant for the most part. Transport through the glass vessel deposits you in the middle of a thick and murky swamp, with air so hot and humid it feels as though one is breathing through a wet towel. This is a place of perpetual night and there are no celestial bodies visible overhead through the twisted vines to break up the blackness, making the only light visible that which comes clumps of marsh fungus that emit a steady glow in a variety of muted colours: pale blue, whitish green, watery mauve. The only other light comes from those who can generate it themselves and that will reveal numerous broad-leaved trees, in some places standing too thick to move through. Below, knee-deep water laps in swirls at their legs, accompanied by the occasional slithery feel of something moving in the bracken against wet limbs, gone before it can be identified. A variety of strange noises from creatures of the swamp fill the air with buzzing and hoarse croaking, interrupted by the screech of mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds darting past and hungry for a meal.

---

OOC NOTE: Characters will not be able to progress past the Temple and the Grounds for 48 IC hours after which point, the way to continue onward to find the dragon will be discovered. The second log will be posted on the 17th, to help spread out the tagging. Thank you!

---

OOC INFORMATION
Landfall Questions | Approved Item Requests | Player Plot - Kryptonian Rampage OOC

CITY OF KEELIAI
Emperor's Orders: Miasma Explained | Marshaling the Forces | A City Under Siege | Halting the Scourge

INSIDE THE BOTTLE
Crossing the Swamp | Decayed Grounds | The Sullied Temple | Stone Idols | Item Discovery

THE WORLD EATER
Battling the Dragon | Soul's Poison | Kryptonian Rampage | The Guarded Pool | Weighing the Options | Aftermath

Comments

Stone Idols

[cherrywood]

In the alcove behind the wishing well there are three statues that appear different than the rest. They will take on the image of whomever looks at them, representing that person at three separate ages: a child, an adult, and an elder and no one is able to see the likenesses of another, only of themselves. They beckon to be touched, whether by hand or object, skin contact or through fabric, it does not matter. Simply the act of touching will be enough to activate them.

Should they touch the child statue, they will be be bestowed with all the purity and honesty in the hearts and minds of an uncorrupted soul. This statue will force the character to speak his or her mind honestly and without restraint, even prompting their voice when they would normally remain silent.

Should they touch the adult statue, they will be given the opportunity to experience the road not taken, the unexplored choice in their life. For some it will seem only as a passing vision, played out for they and anyone in the vicinity to witness... or it may take on a life of its own, writing itself into the person's mind as a truth to let them act upon it.

Should they touch the elder statue, they will be transported to the moment of their biggest regret or their deepest fear, which they will have to overcome in order to return to the temple. However those nearby may also be brought along to help, viewing everything both good and bad this internal strife may reveal.

Regardless of which statue is chosen, all three will crumble to dust in their eyes, leaving no change to revisit the choice later.

((OOC: See the plotting post for the full explanation of mirrorverse options!))

open

[animosus]

Hal couldn't not be curious about these statues that looked an awful lot like him. His power ring automatically protects him from threats which is why he isn't cautious in his approach. He reaches out to touch the adult statue and jerks his hand back and readies his ring when it crumbles to dust. Moments pass and nothing seems to happen and there's no outward change in his appearance or actions.

That is until a yellow ring streaks into the area and heads towards Hal's finger.

Hal Jordan of the planet Earth. You have the ability to instil great fear. Welcome to the Sinestro Corps.

His Green Lantern uniform is replaced by a nearly identical one of the Sinestro Corps. Where it had once been green is replaced with yellow and the insignia on his chest also changes to reflect his new corps. It's only once that is done that he relaxes and smirks. They're not in any sector the ring recognises which is why it isn't taking him off for psychological reconditioning.

Beware your fears made into light indeed.

open

[backwordscompatible]

[Okay, that was...creepy.]

[Three statues. And they all looked like her.]

[The smallest one couldn't have been more than two or three. When she was first beginning to understand the strange powers granted to her at birth. There had been a week where she refused to speak in anything but sdrawkcab hceeps, excited to realize that it was really HER doing all those amazing things. Just by saying the right words. For a moment, Zatanna actually smiled at the memory.]

[Her eyes shifted to the oldest of the three...and man, Zatanna could only hope she still looked that good by the time she hit senior citizen age. (Then again, she could only hope she lived to see senior citizen age.) Wrinkles marring her face only enhanced the wisdom that came with surviving for so long in her chosen field. She looked confident. She looked powerful. It was awe-inspiring.]

[But then there was the middle statue. Her, only...twenty, maybe? Twenty-five? Older, yes, but an attainable age. There was something about it, though. An aura different from the other two. Curiosity got the better of her, and she reached out to touch it...]

[...a sharp gasp escaped her lips, eyes glowing a brilliant white for a full second. When it faded, she stumbled backwards. Not quite out of breath, but more than a little stunned.]

What the--?

[Her eyes scanned her hands. Her hair. Her body.]

...what the hell am I wearing? I look like I walked out of a fucking GAP commercial.

˙ʍou ˙səɥʇolɔ əƃuɐɥɔ

[The words were...different from her usual spells. Darker. They practically seeped corruption in them; a twisted version of the style her father had once attempted to bestow upon her. Along with all that moral responsibility crap.]

[A dark cloud swept over her, and a moment later, faded away to reveal...a mess of leather and black. Knee-high leather boots disappearing into black denim jeans, cut low on her hips. A similarly colored corset cinched her waist, leaving just a sliver of skin at her pants hem, and a sweetheart neckline that dipped just below what would be considered decent Fingerless fishnet loves trailed all the way up to her elbows, and her hair--no longer shoulder length--was now short and spiky and had a few streaks of bright blue in them. One large bang came over to sweep her eye.]

ɹoɹɹıɯ

[A second spell brought a small hand-held compact into existence. She glanced at her reflection for a long moment, idly toying with a few stray strands of hair, before smirking her approval.]

Much better.

Now then...where was I...?


((ooc note: This will be taking place on the 24th, to coincide with evil!Kryptonian murdertastic plot shenanigans. Just for timeline purposes.))

OTA; TLOU spoilers

[mightythinice]

[Ellie never thought she'd see herself as an adult. Ever. Much less as an old adult. People back home didn't tend to make it to their twilight years, not anymore. Something always, always happened. Ellie had tried not to think about it, but it was always right at the edge of what she'd observed.

Infected. Hunters.

Children barely had a chance, especially outside the safe-zones. And the safe-zones were fast disappearing, if what Joel said was true. Boston, her hometown, was not that far away from becoming like Pittsburgh.

She stared at the statues, drawn in particular to the one that looked so much older than she ever imagined herself.]

Are those wrinkles? For real?

[a hand reached out to poke a statue that looked so... wrong. And then suddenly, everything changed. They weren't in a sullied temple anymore.

No, this time, they were in a burning building. Maybe once it had been a quaint country buffet, but now? now it was a town hall that was going down in flames, and Ellie herself looks frozen in place. She never thought she'd see this place again.

In fact, she hoped she wouldn't.]

open

[tuffguy]

[ Bolin's not sure what to make of the statues. While he's appreciative of the adult figure, showing exactly how much more gorgeous he's going to become when he gets older, the elder statue causes him to raise his eyebrow slightly. Not exactly what he wanted to see, but hey, you know, whatever. It's still nice to see, but not as nice. Bolin's gaze skips over the child statue, been there and done that and everything.

But, he just keeps on finding himself drawn to the adult statue. Really, he should learn how to keep his hands to himself.... things might work out better that way if he did. He touches it and then jerks his hand back, watching as the statues crumble to dust. He looks at them, as if trying to understand why it happened, but he quickly shrugs.

It appears as though everything is normal...? But appearances can be deceiving. ]

Mako & Asami Fear/Regret; OTA

[browbeater]

[So, getting there had been nothing short of creepy. The swamp with all its voices and cries had not been the most intuitive thing he'd ever seen. And then there was the temple with its dozens and dozens of statues.

It didn't take long to find the three that looked like him.

The child statue didn't catch his eye, and neither did the adult one (the differences were minor enough that Mako barely paid attention to it), but the elderly statue was hard to ignore.

While Mako didn't have a bad habit of touching things he shouldn't, for once it escapes him that the statue probably shouldn't be messed with. Probably. He stares in disbelief at it for a moment, standing taller than it for the moment.

He isn't even really meaning to touch it. It kind of happens with the carelessness that comes with not being concerned enough about something.

And that is when things go dark.]

OPEN

[dracobin]

The fever which had spread among the men passed quickly. The leak in the water tank had been found early, and repaired. The trip around the Horn was never an easy one, but the Amitié arrived in Rio without incident, and afterward they made good time across the Atlantic.

Three weeks from shore a sail was spotted on the horizon, a frigate, flying British colors: the Reliant by her bearing, or so the first mate claimed. But the wind was in favor of the Amitié, as it had been for most of their journey, and by the end of the day the sail had dropped out of sight. From then on their journey was blessedly uneventful; when the crew of the Amitié made port, it was to a shocked but appreciative audience that they presented the gift of the Imperial Court.

The Chinese egg hardened at last as January drew to a close. Outside the wind howled and tore at brittle-branched trees, but within the throne room at Fontainebleau the fires had been coaxed into a roar, and the little dragonet emerged from its shell into the waiting arms of the Emperor of France.

Lung Tien Xiang was in harness. That was the first sign that something was wrong. He had never worn a harness in his life, not when his companion could ride as well without one. The leather hung heavy across his shoulders, and he snarled and snapped at the restrictive bands until the buckles popped and he could tear the rest away.

The harness caught on something on its way to the ground, and he looked down disdainfully at what had snagged it: a metal plate hung around his neck, very small and inexpressibly plain, with only a pearl flanked by a few paltry sapphires. It was certainly nothing his companion would ever have given him--and with that realization came the stirrings of a bone-deep anxiety, as he turned to gaze at his unfamiliar surroundings.

That he was missing his usual finery was bad enough; that someone had thought to drape him in the gear of a common soldier was worse. But that his companion was not here, with him--that was near-unthinkable. Surely there had been some sort of mistake. They had never been parted for longer than a few days, and certainly never without his knowing.

"Napoleon?" he ventured. In his distress, his tail swept the dust of the former statues this way and that until a fine powder filled the air. "Napoleon? Guards!"

Closed - Stiles & Derek

[skybluejeep]

Not a happy camper.

At all.

He's tired. He's hungry. (Why the hell didn't he pack a sandwich? Why? God, he could really go for some pad thai right now...) He's bruised. He's wet. He's aching. And worst of all, he still hasn't found Derek anywhere.

He's made his way around, until faced with this. These three statues. God, what now?

His innate curiosity is somewhat dulled, and understandably so. Although as he gets closer to them, slogging across the overgrown pseudo-lawn, he starts to recognize the shapes of them.

"...What the actual hell?"

OPEN; CW: Violent end of the human race?

[spideyfanone]

The statues were incredibly strange. The one where he was a little kid didn't interest him as much. He'd seen baby pictures. It was kind of amusing to think of himself as cute-weird and not creepy-weird, but aside from that, he wasn't that intrigued. The one that caught his eye most was the one that looked like an adult. He knew full well he'd never be one, unless maybe he got to stay here, and it was sort of fascinating to pick out the differences between the person he would have been and the extradimensional double he had here. Scrawnier, definitely, and scruffier. He suspected the glasses were an affectation, since he had perfect vision--and could be a bit pretentious. No sleek uniform, just a labcoat and an old t-shirt and jeans.

He was a little disturbed at how fascinating he found it and turned to the last one. The idea of himself as old was so weird it didn't register as possible, and his defenses were a bit lower as a result. He absentmindedly gave in to the compulsion and tapped the statue with his tail.

He had just time to see them crumble before he was suddenly transported to another place entirely (not an unfamiliar sensation for him, except that it wasn't volitional). He was in the unused storage room his parents hid him in when the world ended, but this time he knew what was coming, that the drug his mother injected would knock him out and hide his life-signs from the scanners, that he'd be safe while he lay in the dark while every other person on the planet died, and he wrenched away as she tried.

Open;

[alphatar]

Ignoring the statues was impossible.

The child statue, short and pot bellied Korra, brought the first year of the compound to the forefront of her mind and she tilted her head curiously at it. That wasn't something she wanted to think about and she left it alone.

The adult statue, Korra as she was with her face only slightly fuller, was the depiction of what she wanted. To be treated and seen as an adult with the full respect and authority her title should have already given her.

She didn't even get to the third statue, Korra reached out and placed her fingers on the tip of the adult statue's chin. Touching it made her mind reel and Korra sank to her knees as the statues crumbled.

After a few moments of her eyes being completely shut, she opened them to look at her hands on the ground and started to right herself so she could stand.

OTA

[looksfine]

[Aya stood, perfectly still, for a long moment as she stared at the statues. Were it not for the differences in color, one might almost have mistaken her for one of them. She did not know what each were meant to represent, but one thing was for absolute certain: each of the three were all her:]



[Three forms. The interface she had assumed before the creation of her physical form. Said physical form, albeit without the range of expressions she had come to adapt over time. And...the Interceptor . What did it mean? Why were they here? ...more importantly, how had these beings known about the Interceptor and her original interface to begin with?]

[Given her previous inquiry about memories, and the tampering with, Aya could think of several theories. None of them, pleasant.]

[It was the Interceptor, most of all, that drew her immediate attention. It was her, but it was also home. The quarters she had shared for a vast majority of her existence. Where she had first met Hal Jordan and Kilowag. Where she had spent time with the Volkreig Red Lantern whom she would grow curiouser and curiouser about. Whom she would come to see as a trusted ally. A friend. Even more.]

[Her fingers reached out out to touch it.]

[That's when it happened.]

[A sudden gust of wind, blowing away all three statues into little more than piles of swept dust. Aya could only stare at them for a moment, confused as to what just happened, when her sensors detect a presence behind her. She turned...]

[And her eyes widened at what she saw.]



[A face, exactly like hers, save for the cultural tattoos marking her face. Eyes, cold and judging. She was angry. Judgmental. Hurt. Frustrated. Betrayed. All these emotions and more, directed solely at Aya. And Aya knew exactly why.]

[You STOLE the image of Ilana!]

...Ilana of the Forgotten Zone...

open- the child

[doc_holi]

Holiday had quickly passed through the first few paces of this strange place, just assuming that most of these things were traps. Better safe than sorry, anyway... hopefully. She hadn't hung around to see if her guesses were right or not.

But this. She couldn't pass this up. What sort of creepy thing decided to put statues of her here? She looked over the first two apprehensively, a little creeped out, until she came to the older one. It certainly reminded her of the month or so she had spent in such a state and she grimaced in distaste, backing away from it.

Holiday sighed and placed her hand on top of the child. Things were so so much easier in those days...

"If only I could go back..."

Open!

[gathersnomoss]

Zelgadis really should know better than to touch strange artifacts, especially ones that are inexplicably personalized. On the other hand, seeing three statues -- one of Zel as a human child, one of him as he is now, and one of him stooped, his face hooded so it couldn't been seen if he was human or chimera.

On the other hand, the shock of the human child statue meant he had reached out to touch its face.

"What the hell is that?"

Open! Also spoilers!

[fearlessherosheart]

Tazendra hadn't expected to see herself as an older woman. Not only was she a sorceress, and her aging had been slowed so much that she appeared less than half her true age, but, well, even before she'd died, it was a fact generally acknowledged that those of the House of the Dzur rarely made it to old age (but when they did, they were forces to be reckoned with).

"Ah, so that is what I would have been," she commented to herself, before touching the statue...

... and finding herself seemingly transported to the site of her death. She was conscious but, bound by magic, her abductors hovering over her, readying a knife to make it clear to her friends that they had her captive and were willing to return her in pieces if they were not greeted properly.

Taznedra thought she could see Mica behind them, hear Aerich entering the cave in which she lay, knew that in the original, Mica had been killed, and Aerich seriously injured. She tried to call out...

Open, Adult, TW: blood, death, general nastiness

[bindsthedead]

Sabriel's fingers have only just touched the statue when the vision begins. It's confused and disjointed, and the smells of rotting flesh and fresh blood and the nauseating hot-metal smell of Free Magic linger throughout the vision.

'You deserve to live again' she hears herself say to the headless, mutilated corpses of seven Ancelstierrian soldiers, before they begin to crawl and stumble around, reanimated and bound to her will.

She sees herself accepting the servitude of the creature called Thralk, binding the rotting corpse to her will, sees it fall in line with the headless soldiers that have started to decay.

She sees herself kneeling before Kerrigor- a vast shadow, one with a mouth full of fire, and eyes like burning coals. The smell of rot and Free Magic is almost unbearable. The vision-Sabriel is visibly different now. There is no Charter Mark on her forehead, only a writhing brand, and her bells have handles of bone, with perversions of Charter Marks crawling over the handles- and her surcoat has no keys on it, and there is a deep malice etched into her expression.

Sabriel sees her other self in Death, and while recognizable, her spirit no longer looks human. Fires are burning in her eyes and hands and her features are distorted and shadowed.

She sees herself sacrificing her father and Touchstone on the Great Stones- sees their blood on her hands- it looks almost black, in the gloom, and on the crumbling stones. Kerrigor is laughing- his voice is inhuman, and sounds more like many voices screaming in torment.

She sees herself follow Kerrigor into the populated part of Belisaere. The aqueducts have been blocked, and there is nothing to stop thousands of rotting corpses and life-hungry shadows from devouring the city's living residents. The Sabriel in the vision looks on indifferently as a woman's throat is torn out, and life hungry shadows devour her blood- and her life-force. A few moments later, the woman stumbles to her feet- another spirit chose to take up residence in her freshly killed corpse.

By the end of the night, Sabriel will be the only living soul left in Belisaere.

As the statues crumble, Sabriel begins to vomit- and keeps vomiting, to the point where she's dry heaving. She's seen corpses before, and felt Death, felt people die, and her father's lessons mean she knows more about Free Magic and necromancy than any sane person would want to. But watching herself do those things- become so twisted and consumed by Free Magic that she'd kill her own father...

Closed - Steve, Sharon, Natasha

[trainwrecked]

Bucky's actually in a pretty good mood. Sure, he's covered in muck, and the whole place was giving a seriously horrible vibe...

But he is making his way through it with Steve, he had a gun with ammo in his hands again, and, well. Truth be told, even the muck makes up for a pretty familiar setting. Hell, even the weird, creepy feel to the place isn't all that different from a mission into a Hydra base.

He looks over at his friend.

"You ready for whatever's 'round the next turn?"

There may or may not be a gleam in his eyes that Steve would likely find very familiar. If not exactly comforting.

Closed to the spiders

[unobtainableredemption]

[For the first time, Kaine notices the three statues surrounding the well. He isn’t intending to give them a second thought until he realizes the center statue looks, to an uncanny degree, like him. Upon closer inspection, the statue to the left, the one of the child, resembles Peter--stupid haircut, huge round-rimmed glasses, nerdy sweater, and all. That left the statue on the right, the one of the old man, being the only one he can’t place. Kaine steps towards it for a closer look. At first guess, the statue is of Richard Parker… or more accurately, of his brother, Ben, as it was too old to be Richard. But why? Why show him a statue of a man he never considered a father… or of a man he never considered an uncle?

Then, looking back at the previous two statues, it clicks: that isn’t Ben or Richard Parker; it's him. When he had been younger, whenever he had dared to think of what he might look like as an old man in the impossible event he should live to see old age, he had always imagined he would look differently than the statue’s depiction. He had imagined he would look as he had in the past, when he was still suffering from the degeneration, only with white hair and wrinkles. He stares at the statue, imagining it with a beard—which he had grown to hide the degeneration rapidly scarring his face, imagining the hair longer—shoulder length, as he used to wear it to conceal any remaining similarities to the man whose DNA he was created from. He imagines the scars that once crisscrossed his face. There's no doubt about it… that's supposed to be him.

This statue has his hair short, as he prefers it now, and though there are many lines that wrinkles his face, not one of them is formed by a scar. It is of just… an old man. And that fascinates him.

Without thinking, Kaine reaches up to touch the statue’s wrinkled face.

They're transported to the inside of a church, one that Kaine knows all too well. It was his church. The votive candles in the back are all lit, the only light coming from within the medium sized building. Natural light shone in through the stained glass windows on the sides and in the front of the church, the latter illuminating a figure standing behind the altar. It's an older priest with a large nose and pointed chin, who looks up at the group without the slightest hint of surprise that they're there.]

You have been dishonest to those you would call your friends. It is time to confess your sins to them, Kaine.

[No. Not again. Kaine takes off at a sprint down the aisle towards the man, his veins practically popping out of his neck in rage.

The priest steps out from behind the altar.]

Tell them of the innocents you killed.

STOP!

[The older man no longer stands beside the altar. In his place is a woman with short blonde hair, dressed for winter in her light blue jacket and yellow gloves. Attached to the waistband of her jeans is a police badge identical to the one Kaine currently clings to so tightly in his hand. On the left side of her face she bears a large burn scar... She bears the Mark of Kaine.]

Tell them of the woman you murdered. [As the woman speaks, she turns her head at an impossible angle, until her chin rests well behind her shoulder.]

NO! YOU DON’T GET TO BE LOUISE! NOT AGAIN!

[Only “Louise” is no longer there. She's replaced by a man identical to Peter in every way, only with longer hair. Well, longer hair and wearing the original Scarlet Spider costume.]

Tell them of the brother you tortured.

ENOUGH!

[Before the shapeshifting figure can once more transform into the Jackal, as it had the first time they met, Kaine tackles it throught the large stained glass window behind them.

They land in an alleyway in Houston’s Third Ward, nowhere near the church. In fact, the entire church has vanished... replaced entirely by the web-covered alleyway. And just like the church, Kaine is all too familiar with this location. He glances quickly to his left and sure enough, the dumpster is still overturned from when the male werewolf had ripped Aracely from her hiding place. The female werewolf’s red high heel is still on the ground not too far away… And he could smell the severed arm of the male werewolf that had been ripped off his body by his monster.

The monster currently beneath him, where the false Ben had been just seconds before. The creature is identical to Kaine in size and build… but that's where the similarities end. It has six beady red eyes, two where a humans would be, two directly above them and the final two directly above those. It has no teeth, only long, sharpened fangs; it’s upper and lower canines of particularly long length. Its skin is grey, and on both its chest and back it bears Kaine’s Scarlet Spider insignia almost like a tattoo… only the spider on its back wasn’t entirely for show. Two of the “tattooed” legs sprung out from beneath its back, large, spider-like legs that weren’t all too dissimilar to Doctor Octopus’ metal tentacles, only they were the same grey color as the rest of him.

With two of these legs, his monster stabs Kaine through the shoulders before tossing him up against the wall of the alley and rising to its feet. The creature is Kaine, but isn’t. It is the Other.]

Kaine!

[Only then does Kaine notice Aracely. The closest thing he ever had to a daughter is trapped in the Other’s web, exactly as she had before, tears once again flowing down her cheeks from fear-filled eyes.]

This holds you back. [The Other motions to Aracely. Her braid flaps across her coat as she continues to struggle for her freedom, as she calls out to Kaine to save her.

Kaine lunges towards his monster, but the Other is quicker, and Kaine finds himself slammed against the alley wall once more, this time trapped there by the Other’s webbing.]

I promised you greatness and all I asked in return was that you accept your true nature. That you embrace the Spider you truly are, and reject the Man you so pitifully attempt to be.

I wasn’t going to let you kill her!

[The Other glances over at Kaine's unwitting passengers, as if noticing for the first time they aren't alone.] Because I saw the truth. She makes you weak. They all do... even these new humans who dream of being spiders. Humans who, like Parker, fear the spider... reject it. Afraid to see what their gifts could truly offer.... Not like you. Yesssss.... they hold you back.

[Aracely's crying harder now.] Kaine! Do something! You always know what to do!

[Kaine's trying. He struggles. He tries to cut the webbing that trapped him with his stingers. Nothing he does brings him any closer to freeing himself from his monster’s web.]

But I will free you. I will remove what makes you weak. Starting with her.

[The Other wraps its hand around Aracely’s throat. Her eyes glow blue as she tries to talk her way out of it, to use her fear powers to repel the creature. It's as futile as it had been the first time around. She looks directly into Kaine's eyes as he continues to struggle against his bonds.]

Kaine! You’re supposed to be my champ—

[Aracely never finishes her sentence, as the Other’s stinger pierces her throat. Kaine screams, the sound only stopping to give way to choked sobs.

He failed her. Aracely is dead.]

closed - Rapunzel & Eugene

[watcheslanterns]

Having crossed paths with Eugene, Rapunzel had made a promise to stick close to him for the duration of their journey. She'd already been separated from too many friends, friends who she now worried for, and she didn't want that to happen with Eugene, too.

She eyed the statues with curiosity and then wonder as she saw the resemblance to herself. First, she spied the younger statue and smiled with fondness. Rapunzel remembered the small child that she'd once been. All of those nights, sneaking to the window just to see the floating lights. The elderly visage of herself was hard to take in, but she supposed even she must age like that someday...

It was the middle statue that truly caught her attention though. The statue did not appear much older than she looked already, but there was a maturity about her that Rapunzel felt she somehow lacked.

Rapunzel knows best. Rapunzel's so mature now. Such a clever grown-up miss...

Her mother's voice echoed in her mind.

"Eugene," she said, her voice soft and trance-like. "These statues...they're really strange, don't you think?"

Open

[definingfuture]

There was something about the three statues that hit a particular chord with Tony. Not just the similarities they had to looking like him (that was approaching the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach), but the number. One eerily similar statue would be bad enough, but the wishing well apparently didn't stop at one.

"This is where some old Crusader appears to tell us to choose wisely, right?"

He's aware that he's talking to himself, but it makes him feel better. He shrugs at the statues, looking at each in turn before he finally settles next to the youngest looking of the three, resting his hand on its shoulder.

"It wasn't always bad, Tony. If you could do it all again-"

Tony is cut off as the three statues start crumbling and he recoils back, bringing his arm up defensively. What he's left standing next to is nothing more than a pile of dust, and he fittingly looks wide-eyed at the damage, faintly registering the new feeling that's come over him.

"Uh-oh. This is probably not good. Great job, Stark. What did your parents tell you about touching things that aren't yours?"

Closed to Tim, Bart and Kon

[inhisherosimage]

When the call to arms had been issued to the foreign population of the city, there had been little question whether or not the three present members of the Teen Titans would answer. Tim himself may not have been entirely sure of his place on the turtle yet, but in his short time there, he had learned enough that he understood that the world was in danger and that he'd been brought there to help. And if time had stopped where he had come from, then who was he to deny help when that was the reason he donned mask and cape every night?

Rallying together with Kon and Bart, they had entered the bottle in the Palace. The world inside the bottle had been jarring at first; the dark, sloping swamp had been unexpected, and it's reactions to the presence of not only the three boys but the others who had also entered the bottle had been disturbing to say the least. It hadn't taken Bart long to escape out the other side of the swamp with the aid of his speed, but Kon's attempts to break through the tress of the swamp, which answered by grabbing at him and screaming (that had been an experience) at his attacks, had proved unsuccessful. Once Tim had had a moment of silence to think, he had noticed the fungi which glowed with an eerie green phosphorus glow, the only light in the swamp, and how the trees grew, even leaned, away from the light. Using a small glass flask from his utility belt, he had collected a sample of the fungi to examine, and on a hunch, exposed to the trees blocking their way to the light in the bottle. With that, their passage through the swamp had been far easier and they had reached the edge of the swamp – easily as creepy as the depths themselves, with it's escaping humanoid statues – and caught up with Bart.

The temple grounds felt a lot more solid under his feet, but Tim still didn't trust where he stepped. They had stopped only briefly at the tree there in the grounds, only Bart having taken a fruit (because try stop a speedster taking something, Tim had thought to himself, though having Bart around did mean having to do a little less careful investigating than he normally would have).

Inside the temple, Tim began to feel slightly more at ease. Here he could scope out the best vantage points, he could memorise the entrances and exits and he knew it would be more defensible were they to be attacked. Surveying the inside of the temple as they had headed to the centre had brought to the front of his mind the lack of encounter with anything, or anyone, other than the foreigners that had also entered. He didn't like that. The temple had provided a small collection of provisions and information which Tim, while questioning the validity, took a mental note of.

The wishing pond had provided a short respite. Tim had been able to decipher the Latin-like inscription on the tablet beside it enough to understand exchanging an item for one previously placed in the water was considered lucky. In exchange for a set of lock-picks, Tim had taken a small silver coin, which he slipped into his utility belt. And then the statues had caught his attention...

Tucked into the alcove, the three statues of him made him frown behind his mask and clench his jaw. One of the statues looked much like he did now, but the other two? The youngest of the three was a sharp reminder of all that had happened since he had been that boy, all he had lost. The final was an image he had told himself on more than one occasion that he would never live to see. Tim had convinced himself that he would never live to see the day when he was old and years of repetitive injuries caught up with him, forcing him to struggle with the burden of all he had endured.

It was this statue that held his attention, though Tim stayed at a safe distance, at least a little aware that the compulsion he had to get closer and study the figure closer was not all natural curiosity. The image scared him a little, if he were to be honest with himself; he had planned for the future, always was planning, but that was never something that he had imagined. What scared him more, was that despite having never believing he would reach such an age, he could recognise the statue of himself. And maybe it was a trick (because this wasn't Earth, or even their dimension), but it was a suggestion that this was potentially a future he may be faced with – that someone had seen it. But the future wasn't set in stone – Tim knew that well, or at least liked to think he did after the incidence the Titans had had with their future selves.

“Maybe we should wait here. Regroup with some of the others that came into the bottle.” Tim had been uneasy since entering here, a feeling that had been steadily worsening since finding the provisions stores and the statues amplified that further.

Closed to Diana & River (separately)

[naismith]

Miles does know better than to touch strange objects inside a frustratingly illogical bottle, but that doesn't mean he can help himself from doing it. Maybe it's a morbid fascination with seeing himself as a child standing there, even shorter than he is now, his birth defects on full display. Years of painful surgery have left him as whole as he is at age thirty, but when he was young, he could barely stand upright without the aid of leg braces, and his hunch was far more pronounced. Even in stone, Miles as a child has a strong quality of frenetic energy to him, seemingly enhanced by the sheer physical unlikeliness of his acting on it-- and a painful, desperate earnestness.

He'd always avoided looking at himself in mirrors, just to spare the reminder. Miles had never let it stop him from doing anything. Just the opposite. But somehow seeing how blatantly vulnerable he was at that age, physically and emotionally, is affecting him. He'd never had that perspective when he was younger. The vantage point of age.

With his unlikely trio of subordinates left to explore on their own, Miles looks around once to check for witnesses before reaching out and touching it. He lets out a short breath. "Don't know what I was expecting," he mutters to himself. "Not real, Vorkosigan. Those days are long past. You're still a wizened dwarf, but at least you don't break bones when you punch people anymore."

Miles talks to himself often enough that he honestly doesn't think anything of this outpouring of his inner monologue. Yet.

CLOSED

[superieure]

She was still soaked to the skin with swampy water; she stumbles into the room, bending over to rest her hands on her knees, and upon catching her breath, looks around. The place is eerily deserted, and her ears are ringing from the screaming plants. She feels curiously vulnerable, and immediately straightens, intently searching for anyone else in the vicinity. Her gaze falls on the other objects in the room and she gives them nothing more than a cursory glance save for —

The statues.

She strides over, examines them all. The accuracy is incredible (and creepy). She thinks better of touching them, the fruits had been fine but someone else should try these before she did anything. How did she know she wasn't in an illusion, anyway? Turning, she sighs heavily and sits down, listening for anyone nearby. Absently reaches out - touching the adult statue. At first, nothing happens, and so she feels safe enough to increase pressure before her hand shifts slightly downward to a curve and she turns her head sharply to look at it. The vision starts, Monet hisses angrily, stepping back and shielding herself from any telepathic backlash.

closed-ish

[starcharter]

It's nearly impossible for Chekov to ignore the statues. He looks them over with absolute fascination, taking in every detail. Farthest left is him at about seven, with wild curly hair and a bright smile. The center is Chekov now, wearing his Starfleet uniform and wearing a more restrained version of the child statue's smile. But it's the one on the far right that captivates him. It's him in his twilight years, no longer wearing a uniform but still standing up straight. His expression is distant, but not sad.

Chekov looks up at this statue of himself, taking it all in. And then he makes the mistake of touching the statue.

Suddenly, he's thrown back to Engineering-- klaxons blaring and steam pouring out of the pipes. Sickly sounds of dying equipment fill the air, mingling with screams and shouts and explosions. Chekov's shirt has changed from gold to red, and he feels like he's going to be sick. Not again. Not again.

open;

[wrathfulkhan]

Gene stares at the statues.

The statues stare back; at least, as best they can.

He'd seen them before, but something had drawn him back to them. This place seemed to be specifically designed to mess with his head; first he'd found the photograph of his mother, and now...now he was looking at three of what probably had to be himself.

He recognizes the child statue first, and it feels like a knife in his heart. He nearly goes to touch it, to comfort the creature of stone and to warn it of the sorrow that lies ahead, but stops himself with a twincge of anger. It's only sentiment, he reminds himself, and he can never be the child that he once was. Wanting to was weak and pathetic.

Gene turns his attention to the next statue. It looks like him, but older, and with longer hair held back in a ponytail. The statue is incredibly detailed; it appears to have a few scars, including one that looks like a slash on its cheek and jaw. He glances at the statue's fingers, barely daring to hope, before seeing each one adorned with a stone ring. Ten fingers. Ten rings.

It makes his heart sing. Not a failure. He'll succeed. Once he gets back to his own world, he'll succeed.

The last statue he barely recognizes. It could be him, but he'd honestly never seen himself as reaching that age. The statue looks regal, and still bears all ten rings.

Blinded by sudden hatred, he thinks its face doesn't look like him. It looks like Zhang, and it's mocking him, and it has to suffer for it. With an angry yell he throws a wild punch at the statue, and is altogether surprised when it crumbles into nothingness at the barest graze of his knuckles.

If he were a lesser man, he'd spit at the plinth it had sat upon. But he has other problems right now - specifically the fact that the world has suddenly given a great lurch and resolved somewhere familiar. Too familiar.

He's standing behind himself, walking out of an icy gullet. There is a armored gauntlet on his other self's hand, and he suddenly realizes what he's seeing and where he is. He tries to grab himself by the arm and pull him back and tell him that there are ten rings, not five, that there are a thousand better ways to handle this situation, that he'd be much better served if he kept his true identity under wraps and didn't betray his friends, but his hand passes through his other self's arm like a ghost.

"Stop, you idiot! Stop!" he shouts, but there's no response. It doesn't even echo down the dragon's frozen throat.

It's like he's not even there.

Open

[12goingon113]

Aang almost missed the alcove all together, but the arrow on the hand of one of the statues housed within catches his eye...for obvious reasons. The world seems to slow down around him the closer he gets to the collection of statues, and damn near stops when he realizes that it's not just an assemblage of Avatar Statues that stand before him, but statues of him.

One of him as a small child, a broad laughing smile across his face. It depicts him at maybe seven, possibly eight, but certainly before he earned his arrows. Instantly he hears the memory of his mentor Gyatso.

I have no doubt that they will call you the Laughing Avatar in time, Aang
It was one of the few positive things he remembers hearing after the Council decided to inform him of his status early.

His heart hurts to look upon this statue, so he shifts to the one furthest from it, himself as an older man.

Aang is old in this depiction, and not just what he as a twelve year old views as old, but actually elderly in appearance. Much like the child there is a smile upon this statue's face, but it's less rapturous joy, and more benevolent serenity. It's the face of someone unafraid of death and unencumbered by suffering.

He knows in that instant that this is the face he will have moments before he becomes Korra.

Aang wants to find it reassuring, but then his scar aches and he thinks of all the work that needs doing in order for him to even survive long enough to become this old man. He tries to look away, but the statue in the middle gets in the way of that.

It's of himself as a grown man. The first thing he notices about this statue is how tall it is. So tall. Very tall. The eyes of the statue glint at him much the same way that Roku's did, and Aang finds himself compelled closer. Before he even knows what he's doing, he's reaching out to touch the hand of the statue.

There's a brilliant flash of blue light, and then he sees it.
The chamber of the Council of Elders.
They're telling him of how for nearly a decade the Fire Nation has waged war against the Earth Kingdoms and no one has done anything about it.
Will do anything about it.
That they're sending him away to the Eastern Air Temple.

And instead of being afraid, Aang is angry.
That night when he packs, it's not to run away...it's to run towards.