Event | Landfall | Death

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and every!
Date: August 10th - 31, 2013
Location: The realm of Death as accessed via Sinbrilee
Situation: Death is the third of the realms; characters that wander here are subject to their worst fears and nightmares.
Warnings/Rating: Please place content warnings in subject headers!

Sinbrilee | Dreaming | Death

Life. Dreaming. Death. Three realms overlaid upon one another and yet each distinctly their own. They dwell in Life and do so live upon the back of the great turtle as those of Sinbrilee did upon the shell of his sister. However, there stand numerous arches of marble throughout the ruined city that are inlaid with runes beyond understanding. Those that live and breathe which step through those whose runes have crumbled round the etchings slowly ooze a black goo find themselves entering into the realm of Death.

Those expecting the malleable invitation of Dreaming are met by disappointment and decay. Death is final and unforgiving, having no mind or function to share its control or plan. Unpredictable to when it strikes, this realm is in a persistent state of flux of decay and regrowth. The is but one constant here: Fear.

Fear permeates the air and the mind, carrying with it misery and extreme temperatures that may shift from frigid to desert-hot in seconds. It is everywhere in the ruins that represent Sinbrilee here and it is everywhere in the city that rises at random, enjoying the height of its glory before crumbling with the eerie screams of thousands dying. Graves emerge here and there, frosted by the cold -- then suddenly, the tombstones are cracked from the wear of time.

Malicant's taint seeps into all things here and Death flourishes for it, stirring up visions and stags of one's deepest fears and the darkest parts of their lives. It holds its own parody of life, sensing intruders and acting to inspire the most terrifying heights of fear that it may. Sometimes it ebbs for a few minutes, only to renews its assault of nightmares with redoubled effort.

Fear and misery; the landscape and events play out without mind to the peace of these visitors. And yet, for every terrifyingly real detail, nothing here exists beyond this realm; 'constructs' simply fade if taken through the archways and even the greatest scientific minds or tools will reveal nothing of its source. This is an ancient magic of an ancient realm, too malicious to allow any to walk away with some trophy of it.

Note: Due to the fluid and highly individual nature of Death, no official subheaders will be provided in the comments of this post. Feel free to post and thread however you like, so long as the rules of Death are adhered to.

Comments

[wingedwarrior]

Kyle, please, just listen to me this once and-- [But it's too late. He's turned, and there standing behind him is... himself. A much colder unkind copy, and it's evident on the copy's face it isn't happy to see what's in front of him. The copy walks by, his face steeled as it shoots a glare at Shayera, and she almost flinches out of the way. Her arm moves to latch onto Kyle's, keeping a tight grip on him. She needs to know the real one is here, standing with her, and not about to say words she can't stand hearing.

Its fingers brush over the cage John is kept in, his face hurt and betrayed. It turns to Shayera, anger and hatred burning fiercely in its eyes. It speaks, the voice cold as ice and unforgiving.] You trap my brother in a cage, and expect me to call you family? No. You're no family of mine. You're just a traitor.

[She opens her mouth to protest, that she had no choice, that it wasn't even her. That she's scared and didn't know what to do. But no words come out. She can't speak, the words get caught in her throat, and her grip on Kyle is so harsh, her knuckles pale and her hand begins to tremble again. Shayera turns to the real Kyle, with eyes filled a glint that says "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to see this".]

[imaginate]

[Listen. When did he ever listen? He feels like a kid again, tossed into the world of capes and masks, with a ring that can do anything and none of the experience or wisdom to wield it. One of the harshest lessons he's learnt over his career is to tell an illusion - a double - and he learnt to hate things that took the faces and voices of the people he knew, or took his own.]

[This is worse.]

[It's him. He knows it's him, he can't name exactly how but it is, nowadays he can tell just by looking. Shayera's grip on him tightens and all his muscles tense, ready for a fight as it walks past, but it doesn't seem interested in throwing punches.]

[It's here to talk.]

Coward.

[He knows the worst of himself, he can press his own buttons better than anyone, and he flings the word across knowing it'll connect worse than if he'd hit the copy directly. They were all fearless, or pretended to be.]

Why don't you come here and say that again!

[He looks briefly at Shayera, his expression softening immediately to compensate for the copy's unkindness, and he moves half a step in front of her, shielding her from whatever's coming.]

[wingedwarrior]

[It freezes, tensing up and gripping the bars of John's cage tightly. It struck deep, even for a figment of her imagination, a copy in her mind. There's a cold glare toward the both of them, but mostly at the original Kyle. But Shayera doesn't flinch back this time, but she doesn't stand up for herself either. And she hates it. She's never been the kind of person to need someone to protect her, fight the fights she should fight herself. It was Shayera does, fight for herself and those that can't.

There's a grimace on her face. She's grateful to have Kyle here to support her, help her against this, but she wants her fighting spirit back. The copy walks over, fists still clenched tightly as though he's preparing to fight at a moment's notice. Its voice is as cold and unforgiving as a blizzard, words like daggers.] You think you know this hawk? She hasn't even told you half of what she's done, and here you are defending her, like some kid playing hero.

[Two can play at this game, finding ways to cut the other deeply enough to get them to back down. A dark smirk comes over his face, like a madman about to slice up another victim. Only this time, with words. Through all of this, Shayera can only glare back at him. It's one thing to insult her, but Kyle is another matter entirely.] She deserves to rot like a traitor. Alone.

cw: fire

[imaginate]

[He smiles, coldly, pleased that the blow has struck its intended target. It was always easy, to look in the mirror and say there was nothing of worth there - everyone took, everyone made him sacrifice and bleed until there was nothing, and somehow he kept taking that, kept going. He knew where the fractures formed and he pushed at them.]

I'll show you what you deserve!

[Kyle mirrors the movement, he knows himself. He knows he's been a called a kid to rile him up and he hates how easily that works.]

[But it's easy for him to burn, too, and he moves his arm in a sharp arc. Green light pours everywhere, and the smell of burning corpse fills the air. Kyle didn't even hesitate.]

[wingedwarrior]

[It wasn't the crisp and crackling of the body that bothered her. Hell, it wasn't even the stench. Those sorts of things, she's used to. Deranged bodies, misshapen corpses, it's all part of war. What really stops her, causes her whole body to freeze in shock, is the fact that Kyle. Just burned a complete copy of himself without batting an eye.

Part of her didn't even think he was doing it for her anymore, just for the sake of self-loathing he had. To burn what he hates about himself. Her grip on his arm relaxes considerably, and her head turns from the body to her brother. Shayera's eyes wide with shock, mouth agape just slightly, as though trying to form a sentence to no avail. This is the real Kyle, isn't it?]

[imaginate]

[He did.]

[And he floats over it, flames pouring off him, crackling with power. Angels were warriors first, after all, and he knew his Old Testament.]

[He looks at Shayera, and then at the fading figures of the League. The scent of the physical realm is beginning to catch up with them, but he no longer cares. It can't touch them.]

Let's go.

[wingedwarrior]

[Shayera feels strength coming back to her wings, feathers falling back into place and moving upright as they should be. With a few flaps, it's like nothing ever happened to them. She takes this opportunity to fly over to Kyle, and embrace him in a hug, though not as clingy and desperate as before.] Thank you, Kyle, for helping me. I should've been able to face them on my own, but--

[She shakes her head.] Just... thank you.

[imaginate]

[He flinches. Affirmation, and from her - it means so much... he can't take it. Not so freely.]

It was nothing. This is your mind, remember? You beat them. I'm just. Uh. A figment.

[wingedwarrior]

I sat there and did practically nothing. You pushed my fears away. [When I barely had the strength to stand, you crushed everything.] You're as real as I am in here, not a figment.

[imaginate]

S'what a Green Lantern's for, huh?

[Gently chiding. He takes her hand and pushes forward, through the darkness, his own light a bare candle against it.]

[wingedwarrior]

You're a lot more than just a Green Lantern, Kyle. [She gives his hand a gentle squeeze.] And you never play hero. You're one of the best I've seen.

[imaginate]

[He bites his lip, almost says you don't know what you're saying and then doesn't. Not here. Not when they've won.]

C'mon.

[He tugs her harder, and attempts to find the way out.]

[wingedwarrior]

Kyle. [She stops in place, jerking him back as hard as she can. It helps to distract herself from her own problems by focusing on his. And boy, does she needs to.] Don't ignore me. You're worth something. I'm not going to stand by while you don't even acknowledge how important you are when you just saved me from falling apart.

[Her fighting spirit is back, and in full throttle now.]

[imaginate]

[Then why did they keep telling me to quit? he wonders, and tugs back.]

Not here.

[Patient, and soft. They're in the wrong place for this discussion, he doesn't want the realm to warp into his own nightmares, which are harder to fight.]

[wingedwarrior]

[She wants to argue that now is her only chance to let it out, but she relents.] Fine.

[She's not angry, just frustrated that any of this had to happen, so she flies ahead and pulls him along.] My apartment, then. We're going there.