EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

[mechatheism]

[Viktor does, in fact, hear noises coming from the room, though he's not certain what he'll find when he opens the door. Still, he'd been close enough to catching his hitchhiker that he can make some guesses, and even through his muted emotions feels a distinct sense of dread, thinking of it anywhere near Jayce. The panic through the threads of their connection certainly doesn't help.

He barrels through the door, very nearly splintering the frame against the handle. Jayce is holding his own, but Viktor doubts the mannequin will relent.

He already knows he cannot harm it--he's tried, with the advantage of a ranged weapon. There's something supernatural at play, something preventing him from destroying his own hitchhiker. All he can really do is try to get between it and Jayce, an attempt to pull him away.]

[hexcurse]

[ The sound of the door nearly erupting startles Jayce more than his attacker, whose hand remain locked around his throat despite his attempts to pry its fingers away. Its single gold eye tracks Viktor, there's something nauseating about how real its movement looks with the unnatural way its head lolls after Jayce wrenched it back.

Dread echoes between them. He tries to grab hold of whatever part of Viktor he can reach as he attempts to get between them. Jayce kicks the hitchhiker square in the chest to force it back. It hits the opposite wall, falls to the floor to another burst of nausea and pain from Jayce, something in that split second of watching it look broken on the ground, the profile of Viktor's real face in the dark - ]

- I'll lead it away. [ Quickly, in a hoarse voice, trying desperately not to descend into a coughing fit and only half succeeding. His throat is dark red and beginning to bruise.

If it wants him, he can get it away from the motel. And while Viktor can't attack it himself - Jayce's attention shifts to the corner where the homemade, one time use flamethrower they rigged up is half hidden behind a shabby dresser. ]

[mechatheism]

[Where the mannequin has gained some of Viktor's old features, it seems to have wiped them away from the second face that sleeps beneath his mask. He can't hurt the mannequin, but he can, at least, shield Jayce with his body. Viktor's strength comes from his magic, not his physicality, and he all at once feels ungainly and clumsy, unable to offer a better solution than preventing the hitchhiker from getting its hands back around Jayce's throat.

Theoretically, though, they've prepared for this.]

Out of the room--

[He has enough sense to recommend that they do not activate their hastily-assembled flamethrower in their motel room, but he isn't sure if they have enough time. They'll need to move fast, regardless, as the mannequin re-gains its bearings and seems to notice what Jayce is eyeing in the corner.]

I can't destroy it.

[hexcurse]

[ There's no time for explanations - Jayce only lets his gaze tear from the hitchhiker briefly, finally noticing the smooth, blank sides of Viktor's face plate, his hand very nearly reaching up to touch it the way he's done many, many times now - except this time he's looking at Viktor with confusion and fear.

It's barely seconds wasted, but enough to let the mannequin start to right itself. There's no way for Jayce to get across the room to the flamethrower without engaging it again. Cold, hardened resolve seizes him. ]

Bring it to me - [ The flamethrower, outside. Viktor himself might feel ungainly, but Jayce assumes he can still move faster than him to catch up. He pushes away from Viktor, dodging the mannequin's hands as they reach out to grip him again as he stumbles out of the open doorway, forcing himself not to look back.

A man running for his life in nothing but his underwear probably isn't that uncommon of a sight in Panorama, although running is a generous word. The bones in Jayce's leg have healed, but without the brace strapped to that leg his limp is more pronounced, pain lancing from the bottom of his foot up into his hip with each step. The rough, broken pavement tears at the soles of his bare feet as he does his best to beeline for the emptiest corner of the parking lot. ]

[mechatheism]

[Viktor is powerful, but he's not omniscient outside of his own psychic plane, and everything about this place has challenged what he knows. It's still difficult, to see the hitchhikers as anything but his own evolved drones, visions of them superimposed over the mannequin as it rights itself. He needs the instructions, and Jayce's shout tugs at his tethers to the real world.

The flamethrower. Right. He might not be able to turn it on his hitchhiker but he can at least get it to Jayce. They leave the hotel room, and Viktor scrambles for a moment before realizing he doesn't have to go towards the flamethrower to bring it with him. A few spins of runic sequences and it's flying into his hand, as if drawn by a magnet. Then, he's out the door.

He follows after, long strides closing the distance. In a less dire situation, he might take note of Jayce's limp, how fragile he is and how much pain he must be in. Right now, however, everything dwindles down to a singular goal--stop the hitchhiker and keep Jayce from harm.

The Hexclaw rotates, again. Runes illuminate behind him and the makeshift flamethrower will whizz past the hitchhiker, and hopefully into Jayce's waiting grip.]

[hexcurse]

[ Jayce finally turns when he hears Viktor's heavier footsteps clanking from behind, the hitchhiker between them. It's moving with a limp adopted from the body it was attempting to copy, every few strides it falls to its knee and takes the next meter on all fours. He knows it's not Viktor, but in the dark with that familiar silhouette there's a pang of sympathy.

There's also a flamethrower flying toward him.

He's stopped, at least, and facing the right direction. His palms are sweaty and the handle almost slips from his grasp, the nozzle pointed the wrong way. Jayce flips it around, and hesitates. The hitchhiker is back on its feet again. There's a chance it might decide to flee, leaving them back at square one.

It's not Viktor.

Viktor's stolen eye reflects the light, but this time Jayce has closed his own eyes, crying out as he flips the lever on the side with one hand, the nozzle aimed at the approaching hitchhiker. ]

[mechatheism]

[There is a reason why he's not able to harm his own hitchhiker, and that becomes evident the instant the burst of flames from their makeshift weapon makes contact with the mannequin. Viktor's body is meant to shield him from the pain of existence--emotional and otherwise, but the white-hot feeling of burning is not necessarily something from which he is immune.

He tries to focus on how much more painful this must be, for Jayce, to have to harm him so many times.

The mannequin is still voiceless, but it writhes in the flames, and Viktor himself falls to his knees, the metallic sound of it wringing out. He doesn't cry out in pain, but it's evident that he's sharing the feeling with his doppelganger. The last thing he wants is for Jayce to flinch.]

Keep going--you have to destroy it--

[hexcurse]

[ In the absence of sound beyond the roar of the flame, Jayce is forced to open his eyes and look to be certain he still has the mannequin within range, squinting against the heat in front of him - forcing himself to take another step forward.

There's an awful, sticky chemical smell permeating the air. Its hair had burned away first, there's almost nothing left of it, what remains is slowly shrinking down to its plastic scalp. The rest of its body is blackened in places, actively melting in others, arms and legs taking the brunt of the damage as it curls up on itself. The worst is when Jayce locks with its gaze, the rest of its stolen features half melted away - and he nearly does flinch again -

- what makes him flinch is when his gaze slips to Viktor at the metallic clang. Piecing thing together he starts to lower the flame thrower, about to flip the lever again when Viktor calls out to stop him.

Jayce grits his teeth, chokes back another wordless noise like a wounded animal and advances on the mannequin with the heat of the flame pointed at its head.

It feels like it won't ever stop writhing. ]

[mechatheism]

[Viktor cannot watch Jayce to make sure he sees this through--the pain is nearly overwhelming. It's already brought him to his knees, and he finds himself holding himself up with one arm. He's thankful, in this moment, for the way his body tempers pain, but he cannot bring himself to move, or help.

The mannequin, for all its stolen features, is only plastic. It cannot withstand the continued onslaught, and collapses in on itself, blackened and melting. As Jayce gets closer, it gives a few more desperate, aborted movements, trying to claw its way back to its feet before there is nothing left but a burnt-out shell. It stills, eventually, dripping and smoking.

Viktor, nearby, is similarly braced against the ground, the both of them motionless.]

[hexcurse]

[ The flame switches off on its own, the canister empty. Jayce stares wide-eyed at the pile of charred, melting plastic, shoulders heaving. The remains are still mostly human shaped, in its last moments it had curled into itself for protection. Bile rises in the back of his throat, already burning. His head turns to the other figure hunched nearby - ]

Viktor -

[ He's jolted back into the reality of his body, the present. Jayce drops the flamethrower and limps toward him, dropping to the ground at his side. Hands reach out and desperately search either side of Viktor's face, all the color drained from his own. ]

I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry - [ he repeats it, voice still raw, wet trails running down his cheeks. ]

[mechatheism]

[It's all silent for a moment, but as Jayce approaches there is a groan of metal as Viktor begins to come back to himself. He sits up slowly, unsure whether he should try to stand, letting Jayce close the distance even as the sight of his limp makes him cringe inwardly. He reaches for Jayce in turn--one might imagine that if he were capable, he'd be heaving shuddering breaths of recovery and relief.]

It's okay.

[He's okay, the parts of him that traded with the hitchhiker inexplicably intact again.]

You had to do it. [Viktor doesn't dare move too quickly, but he sees the angry red marks around Jayce's throat and he can't help but bring a hand to his shoulder, fingers gently touching the side of his neck.] It hurt you.

[hexcurse]

[ There's a pulse of relief when his hands trace over those returned parts. His hands continue to roam across the face plate, thumbs tracing beneath the golden glow of his eyes. He means to pull him close - it's still been strange, an adjustment to no longer be able to bear the weight of Viktor's body.

When Viktor's hand touches close to his neck, Jayce freezes, forcing himself not to flinch as he permeates a confusing and confused mix of emotions: pain, guilt, frustration, need. His breath hitches and he reaches for Viktor's hand, pulling his palm to his cheek instead and shaking his head. He resorts to kissing his palm, his fingers, trying to soothe Viktor - and himself. It gives him an extra minute of not needing to speak, too. ]

Can you get up? [ he eventually manages. He searches Viktor's face, still stroking it with one hand, his expression tight. That same hand slips to the middle of Viktor's chest.

He resists the urge to look back at the smoldering remains behind him. ]

[mechatheism]

[Viktor is accustomed to this by now, the way Jayce wants to touch his frozen features, his mask. He leans into it, still unsure of how to return those affections in this body. The momentary freeze, though, does not go unnoticed. With his enhanced perception he feels the flow of heat under his hands, the minute shuddering of Jayce's breath, the spark of nervous synapses. His heartbeat.

He waits for it to slow and calm--for Jayce to do what he feels he needs, to reassure them both.

Viktor takes Jayce's hands in his and slowly starts to bring them both to their feet. Not that he has adrenaline, but the excitement of the fight is ebbing, allowing him to focus on the way Jayce favors his good leg. The sight of it still twists something deep within him.]

Let me help you.

[Jayce can lean on him, he supposes, but Viktor will wrap an arm around his middle, giving him a short moment to object before he moves to pick him up, the motion nearly effortless.]

[hexcurse]

[ He allows Viktor to help him up, willing to wait out here if needed, but relieved that they don't have to. Jayce swears he feels eyes on them. He shrugs it off - they're in the middle of a parking lot burning something, of course someone is probably watching...

No, he's glad Viktor seems fine, even if he's worried about lingering effects - he finally risks a glance over his shoulder to the melted pile, still unmoving. When Viktor next slips an arm around him with intent, Jayce doesn't pull away. There's a jolt of surprise at how high he's actually lifted, a light flush of embarrassment as his arms sling around Viktor's neck for support, his face burying against his collar. ]

I'm sorry. [ Muffled. He's sorry Viktor was the one who was hurt, and now he has to carry Jayce back. That he feels like he should protest being carried, but he doesn't. ]

[mechatheism]

[He expects a fight--or, at least, if their roles were switched, Viktor would certainly object to this. Everything is different now, though. He's still getting used to how much stronger he is. How much easier it is to exist, without the limitations of his old body. There's a strange sort of satisfaction in it, being the one who can do this.

Viktor tucks Jayce against him, keeping him steady as he makes his way back to their room. He isn't sure where else to go, but it seems best to get out of the open.]

I should be thanking you. I couldn't destroy it.

[And now it is not, theoretically, a problem anymore. Still, they're no closer to discovering the nature of these things, and the state of Jayce's arm does not go unnoticed. Viktor brushes over it, gently. He doesn't want to say the next thing.]

Yours is still out there.

[They have to find it, and deal with it, before it's too late.]

[hexcurse]

[ He doesn't need to be thanked for that. ]

We can keep the flamethrower under the bed until we catch it.

[ He's only half joking, and goes quiet for a second, the street lights hitting the plastic sheen of his forearm just right to catch his eye despite his best efforts to ignore it all this time.

They don't speak about the other marks, the ones that ruined world left on him, or the version of Viktor that brought him there. That's left to Jayce when he's alone, in his fitful sleep after Viktor's slips away each night.

He's afraid. Not of dying. He's afraid of some part of him persisting, trapped, aware and not entirely himself. That fear slips like a cold touch across his spine as his mind provides unbidden the face of his own corpse staring back at him, frozen in his moment of failure in that future. ]

[mechatheism]

[Viktor manages to avoid making a joke about how he has a built-in flamethrower, because they both know by now that he'll have to be the one to destroy Jayce's hitchhiker, as Jayce destroyed his. So it's good, maybe, that they have a moment to regroup.

He draws the flamethrower back towards him on his way to the room, and then uses another sequence of runes to turn the knob. Viktor brings Jayce inside in silence. They don't need to talk about the scars on his wrist or the arcane infection in his leg--Viktor feels all of the fear and anxiety through their connection, to the point where he can't tell to whom it belongs.]

We have time to rest now. [He doesn't know if that's true, but they're not in any shape to pursue Jayce's hitchhiker right now. Viktor can only hope that waiting out the rest of the night won't push his condition past the point of no return. He'll deposit Jayce gently on the bed.] Recover, and we'll go after yours in the morning. I'll stay with you.

[Viktor isn't going anywhere else, tonight.]

[hexcurse]

Are you sure?

[ Not about the time. Even as he questions Viktor he draws him onto the bed with him. Jayce has quickly caught on to Viktor's tells even without the connection sometimes feeding information between them. Viktor's body language is mostly the same as it was before - only now with an extra arm, and a couple of extra feet of height. He's searching for those signs now - Jayce hates to have to ask him to stay, or for Viktor to offer out of guilt, but he doesn't want to argue if Viktor actually needs to rest.

He also, selfishly, doesn't want to wake up alone in a couple of hours. ]

[mechatheism]

Yes, I'm sure. I want to be here.

[The thought of Jayce being attacked in his sleep is unbearable, and so is the knowledge that if he wasn't away, he might have prevented it. If he hadn't indulged his own boredom, instead of protecting Jayce like he should have been.

He lets Jayce pull him onto the bed, still finding it unwieldy given his size and weight. He hovers, not wanting to hurt him accidentally--though his hand does drag down Jayce's bad leg, the latent desire to heal it not entirely gone.]

I shouldn't have left you alone.

[hexcurse]

[ He wants Viktor above him now, straddling him even if it means hovering lest the actual weight of his metal body crush him. ]

I love you. [ he starts, exhausted but still unyielding in his affection. Both hands seek to caress his face. ]

But you can't watch over me all day and night.

[ You can't protect me from everything. He'll have bruises on his throat tomorrow, but they'll heal. His aching leg is another matter, and he shifts slightly to lean into Viktor's touch, the muscles beneath stiff.

Despite what happened earlier, he wants to be touched. ]

[mechatheism]

[Jayce doesn't have to say it for him to know, though every time he does verbalize it, he can't help but feel that pang of insecurity. Guilt, maybe, both for everything he's done and the fact that they are now so mismatched. He leans into the touch, though of course he can't help but think that this is in spite of his body--that Jayce of course wants him how he used to be.

The one good thing, he supposes, is that he can protect Jayce, like this, even if he doesn't want it. The thought of his hitchhiker attacking Jayce in this bed, looking like him (looking like what Jayce really wants) has him incensed.]

You will have to indulge me for now.

[At least until they manage to rid themselves of the other hitchhiker, even if there are other, unspoken problems to address. The arcane infection pulses under his hand, the webbing of it alighting in his vision. He shifts backward to sit, pulling Jayce's calf into his lap, pressing his thumbs into the muscle there, trying to work out some of the ache.]

It's not getting worse, but--

[They'll have to do something about it, eventually.]

[hexcurse]

[ Jayce feels that faint slip of insecurity and guilt that his words elicit. From him, it draws open concern across his features, and a touch of confusion. The guilt he's felt before, the insecurity is new - and he tries to parse where that's coming from as he strokes the edge of Viktor's face plate with a pinched brow. Should he have been more clear that he wants him to stay?

There's a lot to say about their time spent in that mental plane, the dizzying intimacy of their connection - returning to his body never makes Jayce feel alone, exactly, but he still keenly feels a desire for physicality.

What swiftly follows is disappointment when Viktor decides to pull away and sit up. Jayce lifts on his elbows to do the same and maybe even urge him back down, but stops when he finds his leg in Viktor's lap. He stares at the scar tissue there, and lets out a half sigh-half groan, his leg stretching out and relaxing under Viktor's hand as he works. ]

We could ask around. Someone might have comparable knowledge... [ Jayce lowers himself off his elbows, staring up at the ceiling. He had been fearful a moment ago. Now, he tries to keep it in check for Viktor. It's possible that, removed from the environment that caused the infection, it will cease to spread. That's the optimistic outlook. ]

... but one problem at a time, right?

[ He lifts his right arm over his face, looking at the plastic-like surface of his wrist. Laszlo and others were offering amputations. He hadn't had much time to process the likelihood that he might loose his leg, he doesn't want to think about losing his leg and his dominant hand to whatever this is. ]