[SWE] The Festival of Fiat Lux!

Kaimana

Of course you've been evaluating everything, investigating with wild abandon and absolutely zero thoughts for your own recklessness and safety. This festival was pretty much made for you, and you've been thoroughly enjoying every moment.

By the time you make it back to Oia you're somehow covered in more flowers than usual and carrying a collection of scavenged food: grilled worm and warm bread and squeezed juice and pretty things. You recognize her immediately despite her plant-like appearance, and you plop down beside her without much thought, extending a magna vermis kebab. "Whatcha watchin? Want some?" you ask, before shoving a bite of bread in your mouth.

be kind, even on your bad days

OIA'I'O

Though it might look like Kai is talking to a bundle of grass, an arm appears as does a mouth, both of which happily snatch at the cooked meat. "This festival seems a strange tribute to Frey. There is much sexual frivolity but it's all masked by hand-waves to 'chance' as with the bottle game. Promiscuity and pleasure for the sake of pleasure is what the herald seems to like. Why do they worship them so timidly, do you think?"

You flip through your book for a moment until you find something that one of them said. "Rejection sucks." You read, before looking to Kai as a bunch of moss falls away from your head. "Why would it suck? Isn't narrowing down your options the best way to locate a suitable partner?"

WHUMP. The festival is interrupted by what sounds, to all ordinary ears, like a thunderclap. For those who have not been watching, it now cannot be ignored. A sheer wall of ice towards the western side of the festival has turned brown with mud. Mud that writhes, moves, and is trying to get through. There's an orca in it. Well how about that.

Caido was chock full of surprises.

Their celebration getting interrupted by a giant mud monster? First time for everything, but hardly the most unusual situation, as it turned out. There had been the giant snowbeast in Deepfrost, after all. That there was a giant memory mud creature in the spring made a certain mirrored narrative that Jigano could appreciate, even as he kicked himself for not expecting it. He paused the tale he had been telling Tarasha of the Sparkbird's arrival last year and turned to eye the ice wall. It looked like Loren was taking care of the direct threat, and there was a...

giant fish???

In the middle of things so... that was... good?

In a calm, clear voice he looked around at those nearby with a reassuring smile and raised his hands to gain their attention. "Everyone, the festival will be taking a small break as the mess is cleaned up. Please calmly head towards the Sanctuary in an orderly fashion until we give the all clear."

Attuned, he broadcasted as loud and far as he could across the festival, please start guiding people towards the Sanctuary until the mudbeast is dealt with.

He reached out with his Beastmaster powers to encourage any pets nearby to start tugging or leading their masters away the monster as he gently disengaged from Tarasha to begin directing people in his area of the Festival away from the creature, and hopefully towards safety. "I wish I could say it wasn't always like this..." he told his new Fae friend with a wry and reassuring grin.

Kaimana

"Human-animals make mating complicated," you agree with your sister, shaking your head. You raise your fingers to your mouth in memory of the kiss, still not entirely sure what to think about it. "They can only do matin' rituals with rules- which I guess isn't so unlike other species. But the posturin' for people you don' have an interest in matin' with..." Shrugging, you turn your face to the milling crowd.

The now a little bit frantically milling crowd. Huh.

Standing up, you tilt your head at the huge ball of muck with a strangely familiar creature inside that fights against a wall of ice very not far away. "Huh." Puzzled, you blink, turning back to Oia. "Is this a part of the festival, d'ya think?"

be kind, even on your bad days

dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous

WHUMP.

The sound draws The Wraith’s attention from her conversation with Amun, her eyes narrowing as she turns and sees a… giant wall of brown ice and a writhing starwhale (?!?) stuck in it. Part of her registers a voice telling the others to evacuate, but as per usual, she pays it no heed. Shaking her head ever so slightly, the demi-god shoots a look to her companion. “Should see if they need some help.” She might be one of the few who’s ever fought something like this before (out at the edge of the Grounds, on an exploration excursion that seems oh so long ago).

Wessex disappears from Amun’s side, running towards the mud melee.

i'll stay here with you until this dream is gone

Remi didn't go to fight the monster. He was here to enjoy the festival with Aoife; better to let the other heroes do the things. The alchemist had no taste for that—not that he ever had—but it seemed finally his spine was suitably strengthened enough to simply say no and not feel himself crippled with guilt. So it was that he didn't hear the monster slorping its way closer over Aoife's cackles of delight, nor the ice wall being formed, nor when it was crashed through. For all the predatory instincts that violence triggered in the alchemist, none of them ever seemed to be present in surveying his surroundings.

He'd just come to have a quiet afternoon with his daughter while Ronin was at home preparing to venture into the Greatwoods to meet with Safrin. An afternoon of relaxation and joy before the final pieces were put into place so that the wagon—and the three of them—could roll off into the sunset.

Just a quiet afternoon...

Screams. Shouting. The sound of groaning ice as it split. Remi had only milliseconds to process it as he turned around to survey the scene with uncomprehending and shocked green eyes. Spears of ice were jettisoned from the collapsed ice wall, racing towards him with uncomprehensible speed; having been an animal longer than a mage, it was into the flesh of the manticore that he shifted.

Just a quiet afternoon, but Aoife would be safe behind the pelt and body and wings of his most massive shift. She'd be safe, as she always had. He'd protect her as he always had—

—pain buzzed, dulled by the ice-bright cold that had hollowed him to his core. Through his core even. Bits of glass-sharpened debris fell upon his shoulders, shredding wings, skin, and fur away until his bones were bared to the too-sunny sky. Choking in a breath and finding his lungs entirely without the ability to hold it in, his shift dissolved around him, leaving him kneeling with his back to the ice-wall that was, cradling Aoife close to him. Still struggling to breathe, Remi looked down to see a dark mess of curls pressed against his chest.   Opening his mouth and finding no voice there, Remi shifted easily; shock making his shredded muscles comply if only for a few more moments. A hand came up to stroke Aoife's back, but he didn't find skin there. Instead, he felt the point of the spear that had, as a point of fact, skewered them both.

Eyes widening with an understanding his mind wouldn't dare let him believe, Remi continued to strangle-breathe while the holes in his punctured lungs continued to haphazardly let those breaths out. "N-n--n-nn-" Pulling himself backwards even as life drained freely and easily from many mortal wounds, the alchemist saw the impossible: a massive hole right in the center of Aoife's sundress. It was wide enough that he could see the ground through it. The red of her blood bloomed like roses that were never meant to be on the sunflower-yellow cloth, and he remembered how she'd squirmed when he'd dressed her only a few hours ago. "N-n-n-n-n" He sobbed again, louder and more feral this time, clutching her against him.

Her body was already cold thanks to the ice, her heartbeat entirely gone as Remi clutched her against him. Somewhere back at their home, Ronin would feel the ring on his finger beat out a frantic rhythm, and then slow..slow...slow...

He didn't scream. Couldn't, actually, though he'd tried to make his last words for Aoife. His last thoughts though, those were of Ronin.

Just a quiet afternoon...Remi didn't go to fight the monster, but if he had? Maybe Aoife wouldn't be dead. Maybe Remi wouldn't be either.

---

Remi has 3/340 HP. If mastered healing magic isn't applied in 12hrs of this post, he will die.
Aoife is at 0 HP.

AmaLiA

the shield of safrin

She is enjoying the festival, and---

Flowers raining, dancing with Deimos, music in the air

---everything is lovely, it's all going so well, but somewhere there's a sign, something off, something at the back of her neck---

A low groan, something lost, but she doesn't see it, not yet, not soon enough,

---and before she can identify it, before she can do anything, before she can help there's an explosion, and ice is flying and people are screaming and mud is flowing--

What was I doing, to let this happen? I should have done something, I should have done something

---and a brown figure flies, bloodstained, through the sky, and Amalia can feel his life draining away.

She doesn't stop to think. She doesn't look around. She doesn't even consider leaving. The pain of Remi's mind and body is stark through the Attuned bond; she couldn't ignore it if she wanted to, even as those around her scream and flee. In the midst of chaos, the midst of pain, here is the greatest wound of all.

The man, her friend, lies on the ground, and with him... no. Amalia falls to her knees beside him, collapsing into the mud. Without a thought she grabs out her shield and staff, shoving them over the prone figures, her body morphing into qilin shape as she wraps herself around them, willing them to move, to respond. "No... no no no nononono Remi, Aoife, no, stay with me, no, Safrin, Vi, please--"

Sobbing, seeking, Amalia runs her lips over them, trying to breathe life into the prone figures, to do something, to not be too late.



What kind of Shield am I, if I couldn't protect them from this?

---

Amalia uses the mastered healing in her shield that she got from Loren on Remi and Aoife

you're breaking your own heart

Those who had run to face the monster were supposed to have stopped it. Loren with his powerful magic, the mysterious fish-cat, Pim and his companion Phoebe, and whoever else had been in the right place at the right time. Jigano had started people moving away from the coming behemoth as a precaution, not because he truly thought that they'd fail.

The cracking of ice sounded like the chimes of Mort across the festival, and Jigano looked up in horror as fragments of crystal shattered beneath the mud monster's bulk and came flying through the air towards those revelers who had been behind the shield. He ducked instinctively, dragging up a thin sheet of rock in front of him and Tarasha as the first icy daggers cut through the air, slicing his cheek, shoulder, and the back of his hand as he flung it up to defend his face.

The screams started immediately as the scent of blood rose to his sensitive nose. The earthen shield crumbled as a larger chunk of mud-covered ice struck it, a fist-sized piece of rock-hard water tumbling through to strike Jigano's brow, spinning him back and dropping him senseless to the ground before he had time to react.

What came next he wouldn't know, a growing spill of crimson mixing with the muddy earth beneath his head and staining his white braids dark as he fell into starless night.

i'll stay here with you until this dream is gone

There is an ice-spear shaped hole in them both, but alas, healing magic only works on the living and for seconds that stretch long into infinity, nothing happens.

And then...against the will of the wearer of it, Remi's skin considers knitting itself back together. The perforations in his lungs are closed, making breathing possible. Not that he does. Not that he dares.

Before him is Aoife, laughing and covered in sticky-sweet paint made of raspberries. She is painting his portrait on the wall and on her dress, and delighted with joy Remi lets her. Ronin is in the kitchen making them breakfast, singing something incomprehensible but surprisingly good.

...breathing means you will leave her. Living is leaving her.

So he doesn't.

OLIVER

The blonde's feet had carried him far away from the carnage, away from the festival. His entire body ached, but the moment he heard a smash, his body slowly turned. His eyes widened and his breathing stopped as he watched the entire wall collapse, shards seemingly raining on the festival. No..... All of his friends were in there. He had left them to die just because he was afraid. He couldn't fight the monster, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to save those trapped.

His chest ached with every deep breath he took as he tried to run back towards the festival, making sure to stay far away from the ongoing fight. People were laying on the streets, blood leaking out of their bodies. It was an overwhelming sight and Oliver had to stop himself from throwing up, never having seen so much blood and carnage in one place. Some people were being held or comforted, while others were simply left alone. Nobody caught his eye...until a flash of white immediately caught his eye.

Stumbling over to the body, Oliver knelt down with a groan of pain. The moment he placed his hand down on the ground, he cried out and quickly retracted it. His entire upper body was in pain, but he had to help Jigano, he needed to get him back. Jigano was one of their only healers, they couldn't save everyone without him.

Reaching forward with shaky hands, He tried to fight the pain in order to heave the upper part of Jigano's body onto his lap. "Jigano? Can you hear me?" He ran a hand along the side of Jigano's face, wincing as he did so. What could he do to wake him up? What if he scared him awake or forced him awake....but how? People do wake up due to bad smells and Oliver had heard of that, so why not try?

He'd make an attempt to use the worst odor he could think of, rubbish, and create an illusion of it in order to wake Jigano up. Of course, he could tell immediately that it wasn't working and vanished it away. Yanking as his own top, he'd rip off a piece and would work towards dabbing away the blood. With a shaky breath, he called out, still trying his best to clean up his friend. "I need medical help! A medic is down! Please help!" His voice came out kind of shrill and clearly pained, but Jigano had to be helped. He was all they had.

a disaster!

a massive mess

trying to not die

AmaLiA

the shield of safrin

The shield is working. The magic inside it - Loren's magic - is strong and true, and as Amalia watches the in rapt terror and hope and prayer and tears the wounds on Remi's body begin to knit together, the skin closing where it's torn and the sinew coming together and the blood (so much blood) beginning to staunch and slow, and Aoife---

Amalia swallows and chokes on a sob. She cannot look at the little girl whose starlit eyes now stare blankly at the sky, entirely devoid of light.

Black eyes turn away from Aoife, back to the man who lies at her side. Remi. Remi is healing. Remi is whole. Remi is...

Remi is not waking up.

No. No. She shakes her head, terror gripping icy fingers into the fragile strings of her heart. Remi! Shifting back to human form, the girl pushes the shield off of him, inspecting the healing wounds with growing levels of frantic alarm. Kneeling in the mud beside the Alchemist, she runs her finger over his neck, searching desperately for
the pulse that flutters weaker than a butterfly's wing. But it's there, and so he must be, too, beneath the trauma and the pain.

Her hands rise up to caress his cheeks; she shifts, now thoroughly doused in mud, and pulls her head into his lap. "Remi." She calls to him physically and mentally; her tears leave tracks on his bloodstained face. "Remi, please, you have to wake up- Please. You have to fight. I can't do this alone."

And then there is the child. Swallowing, sobbing, Amalia leans over to grab the tiny, broken figure and pull her onto the empty shield, a makeshift hearse for shattered bones. She has seen enough death to know when there is nothing she can do for the little girl, who she loves as dearly as a niece. All the Shield can do for the child is pray- pray that Safrin will intervene, pray that Aoife will be spared, prayer that Remi will not wake to more loss than he can bear.

She needs to get him out of here, but she does not dare move him. For the first time in her life Amalia bemoans the fact that she was not born abandoned: without the ability to heal or help, the strength to save him on her own.

Silently, loudly, with all the strength she has, Amalia cries out into the crowd. "I need a medic over here! Please! It's Remi and Aoife, they... please, they need help!"

you're breaking your own heart

dont know where the lights are taking us
but something in the night is dangerous

Please, it’s Remi and Aoife -

She returns to Amalia’s screams, materializing a fair distance away.

The shards came and she left. Came back, found a hand, pulled the person up through the mud and then just… took them away from the scene. What else was she to do? There’s no magic in her unless someone else casts it first. Came back. And this - well, the others can wait.

Wessex rushes over, mud already covering her front, her cloak - she is no medic, she knows this, but she knows what to do if someone is drowning, or bleeding, or shot with an arrow. Without looking at Amalia or the lifeless bundle that is Aoife (even Wessex knew how beloved she was), she puts her hands on Remi’s chest, "Let me try -" and pushes down. Hard. Trying to force air into his lungs. Trying to make him breathe, even if he doesn’t want to.

She waits a moment and then pushes again. And repeats, waiting for someone else with more actual power to appear, or until the man begins to inhale on his own.

EVIE

Evie had come late to the festival, had only intended to say hello to a few familiar faces, maybe get a few goodies from the vendors before heading home satisfied with the level of socialization she'd chosen. Instead, as she ventures closer to the Fields, her ears are assaulted with screams and the sound of shattering ice. Her feet pick up speed, going from an indolent meander to a sprint within moments, hair like a streak of fire behind her. Everywhere she looks people are running, limping, helping each other or in worse cases shoving one another aside in search of freedom. But Evie - a Natural, a healer, a nobody - cannot run away. She runs straight into the maelstrom, towards the wounded and the wreckage, and as she runs - lungs burning, legs eating up earth, magic leaping to her hands - a voice screams out from the dead and dying.

A voice she would know and parse even in her sleep. Her direction is immediately corrected, running for Amalia's voice like a beacon in a dark, starless night. Her throat burns with exertion as she skids in the mud and ice, arriving on the scene in a flurry. Wessex is compressing hard on Remi's chest, a small dark form of a child below him - still, too still, and Evie can tell from a glance that it's too late - as Amalia kneels nearby. The grief is pushed away, and the apothecarist moves towards Wessex with an extended hand. "Stand back, let me try and heal whatever's left." There's no time to reconsider, to doubt, to fear her own outing. Her magic reaches out, probing at Remi like curious tendrils, but she finds nothing major left to heal. Pools what she can, helps the last little tidbits along, and then hefts her arms beneath Remi's to try and hoist him up. "There's no more trauma, we need to clear the field. Help me move him." Her voice is whip-sharp, no time for doubt or hesitation. Her eyes go to Amalia, heart shattering with the desire to help, to heal, to hold her sister tight and shield her from this agony. But she can't, not right now. "Can you carry him on your back transformed?" Aoife, Gods guide her, was small enough for one of the women to carry alone or together.

Only once the man and his daughter are safe and clear will Evie turn her attention to the other wounded.

Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be