JERICHO ● SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT/TDM

[uruz]

TDM & EVENT: JERICHO

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Prologue: New Characters

You've been plagued with a reoccuring dream, as of late. Every time you sleep, the dream returns to you.

It always begins the same way: As a breath held for too long. As a pressure at the base of your spine. A silence that presses against the skin like confession, like prophecy. A ripple moves through your bones. A tide builds and pulls at your feet, familiar by now. You dream of a black, soundless wave, thick like oil and starlight, swelling across the horizon line. You've seen the wave before, countless times, always rising. With every night, it never reaches you. You always seem to wake before it does . . . That is, until tonight.

The wave moves slow, deliberate— like something ancient and alive. And when it finally crashes, there is no harsh impact. Only warmth. Only submersion. Rather than drowning, you are being claimed with saltwater that's sweet with myrrh. The darkness embracing you pulses with desire. Then, a voice envelops you.

"Come home."
It dribbles with honey-like promise, like a truth you've always known, whispered now from within your marrow more like temptation than a request.

"You are mine. You always were."
The voice offers purpose. Worship. Belonging. And when you wake . . . You wake changed, with a mask on your face you did not choose. Elegant. Sacred. Too important to remove. You have been given a gift. A new beginning.

Welcome home, new Vessels.

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Sink Down Like Precious Stones

( content warnings: drowning, body horror )

Vessels awaken within the dreamscape as the black wave recedes from their skin like velvet falling off the bone, their masks in place over their eyes and left afloat in the watery expanse. All around them, the ocean stretches infinite and lightless— so still it mirrors the sky above, indistinguishable from the void. Far in the distance, massive obsidian walls curve inward, enclosing this vast seascape like a forgotten temple basin. And there, at the far horizon, one glow pierces the dark: a low-burning fire flickering within a half-sunken structure of impossible architecture— arched, ribbed, as though built from marble and cathedral glass.

This is a test, and it begins with belief.

Those with unwavering faith— whether in Sleep, another god, or even themselves— will find the surface beneath their feet holds firm. The sea becomes glass, and they may rise, and walk. But those adrift in doubt begin to sink. Precious stone creeps over their skin. Joints stiffen. Flesh cracks. Breath slows. It is not death, but it is close and might as well be hell. Your only salvation lies in your own conviction . . . Or the mercy of another Vessel who happens to walk.

Those who drown will not die. They will loop this moment— sinking, blackness, return, sink again— until belief takes root in some way. Alternatively, they may awaken in a later dreamspace . . . Changed.

NOTES:

• Pale white fish as well as glowing jellyfish may be encounted. The fish stare at vessels as they drown, and jellyfish may leave behind a shock that could temporarily stop the process of crystalization. But only temporarily— and their stings are excrutiating.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Magic becomes volatile— spells flicker, overcharge, or fizzle unpredictably when cast on or near the ocean.
• When you cast, your veins glow from beneath the skin, but not with light. It's writhing. Like something trapped under glass.
• When channeling magic, your mouth may fill with brine and blood.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The water responds emotionally— thrashing with fury or calming with yearning depending on the Offering's state of mind.
• The sea amplifies desire and instinct, making base emotions harder to suppress— rage, hunger, longing all churn just beneath the surface.
• The black water feels too warm, too alive, clinging to the body like memory; any stillness invites visions of Sleep's embrace, both reverent and consuming.

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You Taste Like New Flesh

( content warnings: body horror, psychological horror, compulsion, unreliable reality )

The ocean path ends at a palace carved of pearl and spun silk, impossibly perched where water meets nothingness. Whether you have traversed the black sea on trembling feet or simply awaken seated at an impossibly long table, it makes no difference. You are here now, and welcomed, suddenly in attire fit for a gala. Around this table sit countless Dream-Vessels, many silent and still, faces unreadable in the flickering candlelight wearing generic, six-eyed masks. The table stretches beyond sight, arching beneath creeping vines that twist like ancient veins overhead, blooming with strange blossoms that beat with energy. Flames dance atop dozens of candles— some burn on brass holders, others hover, like fireflies caught mid-flight, their shadows flickering and shifting with an otherworldly rhythm. Around you, phantasmal forms shimmer on pedestals: Sleep's ancient Guardians are eternalized through memorial, monstrous and magnificent, lost to time yet enshrined in reverence. On the highest pedestal stands a still living One, silent and watching the feast with somber eyes. Sleep's voice whispers in your ear, encouraging a glance to, perhaps, see what you may become.

"Feast, My Dear Vessels. Until you taste like New Flesh."

The foods before you don not come unmeddled with. Each bite pulls memories from your bones to the surface— moments buried or erased, but these are not just yours. The banquet feeds on shared history, stirring secrets tangled between you and the others here. To eat is to open a door: to risk awakening something dormant, to invite others inside your buried truths, to forge bonds or betrayals that can never be unseen.

Eton Mess: Crushed meringue, tangled cream, and berries that bleed like bruises when bitten. Sweetness melts quickly, leaving your tongue cold. As you eat, a memory rises— but you don't experience it alone. The person nearest you sees what you see, hears what you hear, feels what you felt. Together, you can alter one key detail, and that change ripples outward, shifting how you both remember the event.

Deviled Kidneys: Spiced and seared, the metallic richness clings to your mouth, as if tasting old blood. Eating summons the echo of a painful or violent memory, but your partner experiences it with you.

Roasted Lamb in Mint Sauce: The sweetness of the meat is cut by mint sharp enough to sting the throat. Your act of consumption awakens a craving, but not in you— in the Vessel sharing this dish. They feel an inexorable pull toward your memory, even without knowing what they seek. The bond persists until the craving is confronted.

Honey Scouse: A thick, golden stew heavy with warmth, but beneath the sweetness, something cloying curls around the edges. Every shared spoonful spreads a slow, creeping influence between you and your partner: intrusive visions, subtle compulsions, small lapses in agency. Neither of you can tell whose thoughts belong to whom.

Starpit Fruit: Plum-sized and faintly glowing, the juice leaves your fingertips dusted in silver, like handling starlight. When bitten, the fruit releases the memory of a forgotten wish, not to you but to the person beside you. They see it clearly— and know exactly what you once wanted most, even if you had buried it.

Marigold Brandy: A golden spirit served warm, glowing faintly as though sunlight has been trapped inside the glass. When lifted, it releases a soft, floral scent. The first sip draws you and your partner into a shared burst of joy— a memory that makes you swell with happiness. The sensation is so immediate, so electric, that when the memory breaks, your bodies ache to move, to speak, to draw more positivity to light. You may feel an irresistible pull to get up and dance on the wide palace floors, even if no music is playing . . . And if others nearby drink as well, the effect multiplies.

Saints Breath Chalice: A dark, wine-thick cordial served in tarnished silver cups etched with symbols that shift when stared at too long. The liquid smells faintly of frankincense and something sweeter— blood-warm and alive. Drinking it floods you and your partner with the overwhelming sensation of being inside someone else's celebration, a memory that belongs to neither of you: a vast mass of black, with branching antlers and six, glowing red eyes. It reaches to sink its claws into your chest as she sings: One. Beloved. We were meant to be. It is impossible to tell whether you're witnessing joy or manic worship. There is chanting you cannot understand but somehow already know, drums that sync with your heartbeat until you can feel nothing else. Your limbs begin to twitch, then sway, then move without conscious thought, drawn into a dance you do not remember learning. If more than two people drink, your movements synchronize perfectly, your breath matching theirs, until the room seems stop to watch.

The table awaits.

NOTES:

• Feasting becomes addictive. The more a character eats, the harder it is to stop. Gluttony may cause physical consequences: nosebleeds, twitching fingers, warping speech, uncontrollable confessions, or dripping nectar from their mouths.
• Those who refuse to eat at all begin to starve in a dream-sense: they lose color, smell burning, and feel the weight of Sleep's gaze. Her wrath isn't immediate— but it grows the longer you reject the feast. She takes offense.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Each spell cast after eating releases parasitic energy— manifesting as flowers, thorns, parasitic insects or rot— either from their own body or from someone they recently touched.
• Casting warps your limbs temporarily: too many joints, fingers curl the wrong way, nerves burn like wires.
• Touching others leaves sigils burned into their skin. These will briefly carry over into the waking world during next month's event. Runecasters will get the innate feeling that this symbol has a meaning summed up as "The Night Does Not Belong To God". How they interpret that is up to them.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The act of devouring awakens an overwhelming desire, often physical, but sometimes emotional or spiritual. This desire clings to another Vessel at the table, creating obsessive attachment or aggression.
• The more they eat, the more their monstrous traits subtly emerge.
• Consuming another Vessel's memory (if shared or touched) grants a brief glimpse of their deepest fear or weakness.

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There's Something In The Way You Lay

( content warnings: sexual content, voyeurism, body modification, omegaverse traits, loss of agency )

Beneath its pearlescent halls, beyond the banquet of flickering candles and dream-Vessels who eat in hollow silence, a spiral staircase winds downward. Its steps are damp and velvet-slick. The further you descend, the warmer the air becomes— humid, cloying, thick with the scent of sweat, salt, and incense. The sounds reach you first: Slaps, gasps, the wet chorus of bodies and perverse intimacy. Laughter, muffled sobs, the echo of whispered names long forgotten. At the base lies a corridor of "private" rooms. Their doors swing open with dreamlike invitation. Inside, the scenes unfold: past dream-Vessels lost in tableau— arched backs, bitten lips, mouths open in prayer or obedience. Some are alone, coiled in worship. Others tangle in groups, indistinguishable where one body ends and another begins. Vines bloom across the ceilings, watching. The walls glisten with breath. You see their faces, but you can't quite distinguish what or who they are. You may not remember choosing a role, but the dream has chosen for you. α or Ω— and with the naming, your body changes. There is no shame here, only devotion made manifest. This is how Sleep is worshipped now: through cruelty and surrender, through the giving and the taking of flesh.

NOTES

• Masks may optionally offer a sort of glamour for Vessels who wander into these chambers— they will not be able to recognize each other. How much of that, whether it be appearance, voice, and so on, is up to you.
• Past dream-Vessels perform for no one, eyes vacant, movements perfect, as if only a ghost of a memory. Player characters may interact with them and even partake in intimacy with them, but be warned: they are emotionally absent and may cause symptoms of succumbence that could be remedied with a proper, player-character tether.
• Tools hang on the walls: Rods of all sizes, slick with heat. Collars that hum with low, seductive voltage. Blindfolds that intensify physical contact, There's no need for cuffs or chains when there are vines that seem to respond to the α party's mood— tightening, flowering, or reaching for skin. You are free to come up with your own items.
• α perks:: Instinctive claiming (done through biting, rubbing, branding, etc), an almost predatory focus and obsession for those who interest them, pack gravity (the ability to attract one or more vessels at once), emitting a scent that ignites heat/rut in others, darker urges surge and a commanding voice.
Ω perks: High pain tolerance, instinctive yielding, emotional synchrony with those being watched, self-lubricating, hypersensitive, scent tracking, intense need to please or be filled emotionally, physically, and spiritually. When touched, glowing runes bloom across the skin.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Spells cast during acts of intimacy may provoke a heightened sensation of euphoria for both caster and whoever is affected by the spell.
• Magic may manifest as misty appendages— extra hands, tongues, eyes, etc.
• Divine energy becomes volatile when passed through the body— ecstasy may border on agony, or vice versa, and Tethering becomes impossibly euphoric.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• Flesh becomes malleable mid-act— bones bending, jaws unhinging, skin blooming open, etc.
• Animalistic traits emerge: tails, claws, growls, tentacles, scent glands— all begging to be used.
• Feeding and Tethering are indistinguishable— hunger becomes worship, and worship becomes need.

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I am not worthy

( content warnings: body horror, violence, gore, parasitic/invasive feeding, death )

Wherever you are, the palace begins to rot. First slowly, then all at once: vines swell with black fluid, splitting at the seams. They burst from beneath marble tiles, coil up pillars, slither across frames and vacant thrones like arteries choking a heart. The candlelight flickers. One by one, the flames throughout the palace float upward . . . And die. No smoke. No warning. Just wet silence. Then the Dream-Vessels begin to fall. They do not scream as they do. They collapse like marionettes, limbs askew. Their flesh splits open along wounds that should not exist— a rip at the neck, teeth marks prying open the ribcage, a bite that swallows half a torso. Bones jut like sculpted ivory. Entrails slither across the floor like garlands. Some burst mid-air, as if the dream demands spectacle. Others fold in on themselves until all that's left of them is a mound of flesh.

"I am not worthy."

One voice. Ten. A thousand—layered, glitching, sweaty. It echoes from the walls, the bodies, the seams in the floor. The corpses twitch in time with the chant, jerking violently. Some snap backwards, eyes wide, jaws unhinged. Others explode— blossoming in gore, raining viscera. From the heaving pile of ruined Dream-Vessels, something forms.

It lurches into being: stitched from tongues, teeth, torsos. Weeping. Wailing. Worshipping. A monstrosity of raw flesh and faith: all failures made meat. Its eyes (are they eyes?) blink out. Arms claw outwards, too many to count. Its scent is of copper, sweat, and sorrow.

When The Abomination chooses to feed, it seeks not flesh, but the softest rot inside you. An appendage uncoils from its writhing mass and unhinged jaw— veined, slick, and trembling like a violated root. It drives itself into your mouth, splitting your lips with obscene tenderness, and sinks deep into your throat, locking you still.

What it draws out is not blood. It siphons your doubts, your fears, your most secret self-hatred. Your inadequacy. Every buried shame. Your hate. Your negativity. Every flinch of unworthiness. Every moment you believed yourself unlovable, unseen, too small. It gorges on what you hide from even yourself, and the more you try to resist, the sweeter your sorrow becomes. The last thing it takes is your life force, and then your viscera, leaving you wilted and shrivled like a hollow log.

This death is violating and feels painfully slow. You're drained raw of your vitality until you're but a brittle husk that breaks to dust in the wind. It seems near impossible to destroy, always reforming into bits and pieces left smudged behind. Perhaps your best bet it to run, or attempt to wake yourself up from this nightmare.

One's voice repeats in choked sobs: I am not worthy.

NOTES:

• Wounds from the beast linger. You may wake bleeding or marked.
• If devoured, characters will awaken the following month extremely fatigued during the first 3-5 days of the month. They may also sporadically rigurgitate black sludge. Characters who die and are already in the game may requesta plot clue, that will be a vision your character will dream of before awakening.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Magic recoils violently when used on The Abomination, backfiring with psychic screams or ripping into your flesh.
• Your hands glow uncontrollably, burning what you touch— even those you love.
• Magic becomes hungry; it demands pieces of your body to function. A tooth. A nail. A rib (and so on).

OFFERING EFFECTS

• The rage it stirs in you is monstrous. You begin to shift uncontrollably— flesh blooms, bones crack under strain.
• Your body begins moving before you decide to. Twitching toward The Abomination, and toward the scent of despair.
• During the chaos, you may develop a fixation with another Vessel's flaw. You can smell it on them. It entrances you . . . To the point that you may feel the urge to feed them to The Abomination.

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OOC NOTES

➤ Welcome to Somnia's second TDM, which doubles as our third gamewide event!

➤ This TDM is considered game canon. You are free to have your character remember as many details as possible.

➤ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.

➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!

➤ Veteran players, I ask to please refrain from making post-event threads for the time being! We have some important information to take into account in next month's event when characters are slated to "wake up". At the very least, please wait for the information to be offered on the next plotting post. Thank you everyone for your patience!

➤ Please comment on the TDM's INVITE TL if you are a new player interested in joining the game, but don't yet have an invite. Current players or the mod may reach out to extend an invite. Once you've got one, please don't forget to comment on the Invite page so you may properly link it in your reserve and app.

➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!

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Comments

[sorte]

[ Aventurine blinks behind his mask, the feeling of warmth at being hugged something he hasn't felt in a really long time. It's surprising, to say the least, but not at all unwelcome, especially after being stuck in a place where he's known absolutely no one for the past two months. He returns the hug before he realizes he's doing it, the soft smile of relief(...? he doesn't know, because objectively there nothing good about being here, but in theory he can at least keep tabs on him here, right?) creeping into his features before it's gone just as quickly and replaced with an easy smile. He'll lower his own mask after a moment to show his eyes, knowing full well that the eyes of an Avgin is more than enough proof to be offering as a reassurance, especially when not demanded. ]

That makes two of us. I hope things here haven't been too jarring for you since you arrived?

[trashblaze]

Nothing too strange has happened so far.

[ Knowing that Aventurine must be asking out of concern, Caelus doesn't hesitate to answer it. He hasn't pulled away yet, appreciating the feeling of warmth coming from a person he longed to speak to, especially after his intense, lengthy stay at Amphoreus. He catches the scent of that particular perfume that Aventurine usually wears, resting his chin on the other's shoulder as he takes comfort in how familiar and nostalgic that has become. It reminds him of the happier days in Penacony.

Eventually, Caelus leans back and witnesses those unique Avgin eyes just as Aventurine lowers his own mask for him. Beaming brightly, Caelus fully appreciates them. ]

Hehe, still the most beautiful set of eyes ever! I can look at them all day.

[sorte]

...Mm, I see Sleep's dream hasn't managed to taint that incredible charm of yours, at the very least.

[ not that bright smile, which is so welcome after so much darkness. Aventurine feels another wave of brief happiness that keeps his smile sincere, leaning in until their noses touch rather affectionately. There's a lot he wants to ask, but for now he feels it's best not to push too much, too quickly. People have been in the dream before but hadn't woken in Manhattan afterwards from what Aventurine recalls. He himself had briefly stumbled into that Stellaron Hunter last time, but she never made it to the waking world. If Caelus will end up similarly, he doesn't know, and he's torn between hoping he does and hoping he doesn't. ]

Are you here with the rest of the Astral Express...? Or did you wake up here alone?

[trashblaze]

[ Normally, Caelus would unreservedly soak up all the compliments thrown at him. But for some reason, he actually feels shy about hearing that from Aventurine. It doesn't stop him from smiling again, but it's more mellow and heartfelt compared to the earlier beams of energy. Maybe it's because of his current feelings of missing him greatly, as well as the significant weight of the experiences of Amphoreus in his mind. After everything there, more than ever, he truly treasures the connections he's made so far in his journeys. So he leans up, meeting the other's gentle touch and staying that way. ]

Mm! They're here! I'm not sure how many of us are, though. I've only spoken to a few of them. I'll be looking around more to see who else could be here.

[ He'll worry about that real soon. For now, he really wants to catch up with Aventurine… He can see in those colorful, beautiful eyes that he's been through a lot. ]

What about you? Is anyone else from IPC here? And… how are you?

[sorte]

[ Aventurine shakes his head at the question. ]

Until meeting you, you're the first person I've met here that is from the same universe, nevermind that I know. I did meet one Miss Stellaron Hunter the last dream Sleep initiated, but she was nowhere to be found when I woke. [ he chuckles. ] My guess is she escaped, as she's so very good at doing.

[ as to how he's doing? Well ... that's a good question, as he has done a very good job of Not Thinking About It. Until now, he's simply been moving day after day in a general daze trying to keep a rhythm because he has decided he wasn't willing to die or succumb to Sleep's desires.

... It's also not really worth telling about unless he really has to. ]

Well enough, though I don't recommend the vacation I've been having the past several months! On the plus side, though, I've found so many cute items that reminded me of you?

[trashblaze]

[ Miss Stellaron Hunter? So either Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Firefly was here but managed to leave. If the Stellaron Hunters can manage to escape a place like this, then surely the Astral Express has a good chance of doing so as well. Caelus mentally keeps note of this and will tell the others later. He nods to let Aventurine know he's listening, so he pays attention to the rest of his words carefully.

But Aventurine seems to be hiding what happened to him, especially with the following topic shift. Of course, he has the right to keep his experiences private, though this only worries Caelus. It's evident how his expression changes into concern. He's torn between trying to pursue it again or just letting it go for now. Eventually, he gives in and regains a soft smile. All right, he'll let it slide once. But next time, he will want to hear him out properly. ]

Really? What kind of items?

[sorte]

I found a very cute miniature baseball set at a doll shop, and I was able to dress a little plush up in it. I found a yellow scarf to add, too. [ Aventurine will press his fingers to Caelus's forehead gently, the mental image of a cute little plush raccoon with a baseball velcroed to the top of a soft toy bat that the plush is hugging coming up. It even has the yellow scarf as Aventurine mentions, and it's sitting in a child-sized raccoon chair in a room with some other plush toys (a snake, a pig, an owl...) that looks like it's been cleaned up to make some nice space for them near a window that looks like it's admittedly seen better days. But the toys look pretty happy and have some teacups and little blankets for themselves, so they don't seem to be doing too badly. ]

The city is unfortunately deserted, so everything has been left to the elements and decay, but we've found some things that haven't suffered too much from the exposure. The worst thing about it has to be the lack of running water so far.

[ and creepy zombies, but details?? who needs them when they're detractors. ]

1/2

[trashblaze]

[ Blinking in curiosity, Caelus watches Aventurine touch his forehead. He feels immediate light surprise when he sees images sent through his mind, wondering if the gambler has always had this kind of ability. Or maybe he knows how to manipulate the dream energy here efficiently? But it's strange how Sunday was struggling with it earlier, yet Aventurine can do it so well. Anyway, these questions can wait until later. For now, Caelus focuses on the images he's seeing, and his smile shines even further after closing his eyes to concentrate. ]

Oh! It's me! And—

[ Still holding that warm expression, he looks increasingly excited to see the very endearing setup. By the time the images end, he reopens his eyes and beams at the gambler. ]

And Miss Jade, Topaz, and Mister Ratio!

[trashblaze]

[ Another set of blinks follows shortly after hearing the next set of explanations. Something clicks on Caelus. When did Aventurine manage to collect all of these toys? Rather, the words from earlier suddenly start to make more sense to him as their conversation goes on. Since Caelus had only managed to meet new arrivals so far, he thought it would be the same case here. But it seems not. ]

Aventurine, you sound so experienced. [ Not to mention that technique just now… ] Have you actually been here for a while? You mentioned Sleep's dream… and a vacation for several months… You don't mean—

[ He's been stuck here all along!? Exactly how long is "several months?" Caelus fell quiet as everything dawned on him, the concerned expression returning full force. His embrace can only become tighter. ]

[sorte]

[ ah. Aventurine's expression falters a little bit, something in his chest tugging at his insides. it's not necessarily an unpleasant feeling, just an ache he doesn't anticipate. his easy smile will return after a moment, though. ]

You got me. I can't really tell the passage of time in the waking world that goes with this dream we're in because of the situation there; but my watch works and wasn't taken from me. So, I would guess it's been around—give or take some days— almost 1,500 system hours since I first arrived here.

[trashblaze]

[ 1,500 hours. 2 months. Caelus stares at Aventurine for a while longer with that continued concerned look, especially as the other man forces another smile. Even back in Penacony, Caelus always thought that smile looked… so, so lonely. He still remembers the day they fought, the way the gambler's voice cracked for the first time, and his set of eyes that burned painfully. It wasn't a pleasant memory, but Caelus wouldn't trade it for anything. Because for the first time, he saw the honest side of the gambler who always hid his lovely eyes behind tinted sunglasses.

The golden pair of eyes seems to lighten, the natural water within them moving slightly against the dim light of this place. Caelus laughs gently, doing his best to encourage the two of them equally. No matter. The fact is, they're finally together again. Neither of them can change the past, but they can keep moving forward together. And now that the chance Caelus long awaited is here, he won't let the chance slip by. ]

Do you remember the gifts you sent me? To be honest, I was in such disbelief that I had to immediately tell the crew. I've never received so many thoughtful gifts before from a single person. It was seriously such a huge package, I was overwhelmed! So I felt like I had to share it no matter what, but everyone insisted that I should keep everything.

[ At the very end, Caelus sent the crew a crying sticker, and he was at a loss on how to thank Aventurine properly. He convinced himself that Aventurine would understand without a response, and while that might be true, it's still much better to actually thank him. It's only right. That's why he didn't send a text message afterward; it felt like it wouldn't be enough to convey how he really felt over it. He smiles the brightest he can muster right now, a couple of waterdrops hanging at the sides of his eyes. He's too touched. ]

Thank you so much. You're unexpectedly so sweet. I'm glad that we've met.

[sorte]

[ Aventurine is actually a little dumbstruck by the thank you. Not because it's out of character for the Trailblazer to eventually tell him he's thankful for the gift but because it comes up right now. They're stuck in an highly risky situation that even Aventurine would avoid betting odds in his favor on; but here Caelus is wanting to express his feelings over the gift.

His smile shifts a little, less practiced and barely there but with a contentment that is never present with his other smiles. He didn't think someone thanking him would soothe him so easily, but here they are. Then again, Caelus isn't just anyone. Although Aventurine had initially approached him with clear intent to only be 'friends' to further his agenda, he unexpectedly had come to start actually liking the youngest Nameless. If only someone like him existed back when Aventurine was a child, he briefly wonder. If he had, would Kakawasha never have to bear the loss, the pain and the misery that defined so much of his younger years. (—And yet, Aventurine can't find it in himself to wish that the past could have been that; because, without everything that happened to Kakavasha, what are the chances that he and Caelus would have ever crossed paths, otherwise?

He doesn't say that, of course, and even he isn't quite ready to admit and accept that kind of feeling for what it is. It's there, and he understands it. In a life of his own making where it often becomes hard for even Aventurine himself to tell whether he truly means what he says or is simply playing a part as he's meant to do, it's rare to feel so self-assured. He really does find this person truly important rather than simply fooling himself into it while actually feeling very little.

Aventurine is, of course, so cagey when it comes to honest, sincere expression, especially when it goes against the stereotypes the Avgins carried for so long, no matter what they did. There's no way he can be as honest as Caelus, and at this point he doesn't want to be, either.

( Because he's unsure, because he's hesitant, because he's terrified if he ever expresses such a thing outloud, he'll never be able to cope with the loss if something happens to Caelus. )

So, for now, he lowers his guard just a little bit between them: lets the Stoneheart 'Aventurine' relax for a bit and just be...

...whoever or whatever's left underneath.

Other than that, gifts are the only way he feels he can safely express himself. ]

I'm really glad you liked them. I'm hoping you escape here and wake up where you fell asleep, because I don't want this situation for you. But... if you do wake up where I am now...

[ —I'll be on and by your side no matter what, this time— ]

...Well, let's just say I've started collecting a few souvenirs for you here and there.

[trashblaze]

Eh? More gifts?

[ His tone is light, indicating he's more amused than anything. He wouldn't deny the gifts, of course (he loves presents!!), but that just means he'll be grateful once again. He's not quite sure what Aventurine means by "I don't want this situation for you," but the trailblazer understands it's out of concern. The way the gambler is worried about him only solidifies the fact that he truly is a sweet person underneath the flashy, seemingly cold personality he's trying to show the universe. The trailblazer's heart grows ever fonder every second. ]

I'm going to be so spoiled by you at this rate. But you don't have to worry, Aventurine! I'm a trailblazer, after all! No matter where I end up, I'll treat it as part of the mission. I can take care of it.

[ He squeezes his dear friend within his arms, still connected in the same embrace they had since earlier. It's for reassurance and another thank you. No matter the danger, he will still keep going because that's what the Nameless is meant to do. It's their purpose to seek and understand. ]

And I'm not alone. I have you, the Astral Express, and many other friends!

[sorte]

Glad to hear that.

[ Aventurine just lets his forehead rest against Caelus's upper chest and shoulder, taking a chance to just relax for little bit for a few seconds for the first time since arriving here. His shoulders slump a little bit they're be back to normal after a moment and he'll pull his head back to look up at him with an easy smile. ]

Now, how are you getting along so far here?

[trashblaze]

[ The moment that Aventurine rested on him was very brief, but it felt mysterious. Aventurine is very light in Caelus's arms, but something about it feels like it weighs more than it actually does. Maybe that's the weight of the hidden emotions that Aventurine has been carrying within him in secret. The trailblazer's eyes soften, and he decides to gently pull the gambler back to rest against his shoulder again, wanting to carry some of that weight for a while longer. He doesn't ask about it, only allowing this person some overdue peace of mind and rest, which he truly needs. He takes a step forward to add more warmth, letting his presence be known more strongly. ]

Confused, but I'm doing all right. When we wake up from here, I'll find you for sure.

[sorte]

[ He doesn't know if he should feel grateful for this or resentful— because, despite everything, Aventurine wants to believe Caelus has the ability to fulfill that. It's not his choice whether he wakes up back in their universe or he's dragged to where Aventurine is. Besides, how much more fucking selfish can you get to want someone that actually treats you like you're a person, a friend, to be trapped in the same hell as you because it would be nice to be less lonely for you? He's tired; tired of resorting back to the skills his sister taught him on Sigonia-IV, tired of living that lowest of the low life without her in it. The happiest times of his life was in utter fevers and extreme poverty with her, and now a Goddess yet again decides he should be one of the special ones, only to force him back into this life without her in it.

( "Pain and poverty are the trials of Gaiathra Triclops. SHE has also granted us a chance, and that's your good luck, Kakavasha. You're a child blessed by Gaiathra Triclops and can lead the clan to happiness. So, always remember to protect yourself and never resent the pain and poverty you're going through... All right?" )

The memory of his sister's words drag up another memory that is more violent and harsh, always vivid but even more vivid after witnessing another-person-here's memory of a massacre that brought his own thoughts of that day back.

This is honestly the worst time to get emotional and frustrated, though, and so while it momentarily bubbles up like a boiling pot threatening to spill over, it dies back down before that can happen.

Aventurine nods, not removing his head this time, his fingers involuntarily twitching with the want to just cling tight to Caelus. He can't, though. He knows Caelus will just be devastated if Aventurine shows how much he needs such a thing only to wake back in their universe. He doesn't want to cause undue stress just so he can gran hold to a lifeline for a few minutes more.

Swallowing thickly, he exhales softly as he silently regains his composure. ]

Careful now, I'll hold you to that, you know.

[trashblaze]

[ For the first several minutes, there was only silence and calm, as if Caelus managed to make a shield of his own against this dream, only leaving the two of them in it. Having the chance to have the exhausted Aventurine simply rest, to not think about anything else for now, is more than enough for Caelus. It's a rare chance considering how busy the two of them always are, even back home. However, as the images of a distant, saddening past flash before Caelus's mind, he naturally gets startled but keeps his voice down. He almost let out a noise, but it stays within his throat and swallows it down. He didn't want to startle his precious friend in a moment like this.

It's difficult not to be emotional, however. Caelus immediately knows about what he saw just now. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that those painful memories belong to Aventurine— images of an unwinnable war, of senseless carnage, of deep loss. Caelus is doing his best not to shed tears, trying to avoid making Aventurine feel worse than he already does. The trailblazer closes his eyes— deeply breathing, as he embraces the gambler even more closely than ever, lowering his head so they'd be buried in each other. Of their shared warmth, a reminder that they're here, together, and alive. ]

You can, Aventurine. You can always rely on me. I am a Nameless, so even if I don't wake up by your side tomorrow… I will find you eventually without a doubt, on the Astral Express. We will meet again.

[sorte]

[ aventurine exhales, slow and heavy. even though he doesn't want to admit it, he already knows there's a tether formed. he knows caelus sees something that has hurt him, because that bleeding heart of his and its ache drift out like lapping waves into aventurine's own. figures. this place wasn't going allow him any privacy, not even between himself and the only person who's considered him a friend.

caelus is protecting him, trying to comfort him. no one's ever comforted him before. the feeling is strange, the realization even moreso. is sleep punishing him for not doing as she expects? by messing with his head and his heart only to rip it all away when he wakes up?

there's so much anger to be felt at that thought, and yet even that can't manage to overcome the stillness and peace that the avgin feels for this moment in time thanks to the other. ]

... I know. I'll wait as long as needed.

[trashblaze]

That's the spirit…

[ The response comes with a serene yet encouraging tone, parallel to their current situation. Caelus refuses to move yet, ignoring how the feast continues behind them. He already paid his respects anyway, having eaten more than enough of his share earlier. The only thing on his mind right now is dear Aventurine, genuinely even setting aside the thoughts of trailblazing and such for now. Those, he can easily tackle anytime after this. He wants to keep taking advantage of this precious moment, wanting to keep healing that injured, treasured soul curled right within his arms. Even without the flashback just now, it's not like Caelus is entirely clueless. The Herta Space Station and the Astral Express's databases had some information, and he had also heard some hearsay here and there, so he already had ideas about how much the Avgins suffered.

Yet, the impact of the flashback still hits Caelus heavily despite that knowledge. He can't imagine exactly how much pain Aventurine had, and perhaps still has. He likely never will, but that only gives him more motivation to keep reaching out. He doesn't want to ever give up on making this person happy. He'll try to make him cheerfully smile day by day, aiming for pure smiles that form naturally, and not out of a desire to cover up something so painful. It's just too sad to keep on living while being shackled down. As a trailblazer that thrives on freedom and exploration on one's own feet, the mere idea of chaining someone is despicable. ]

Say, is it all right if I call you Kakavasha if we're alone like this? Your name is… really, too pretty, I want to say it.

[sorte]

[ Ah. Of course Caelus would think this.

Of course Caelus would find a name in a language that is practically spit on with disgust by those who look down on the natives pretty. So pretty he can't resist but want to be able to say it himself.

What is he supposed to say? How can he say anything other than — ]

...Of course. [ Aventurine reaches up now to cling to the trailblazer, still unable to even try and look him in the eyes, but far from wanting to be separated from him. He lets himself cling with a desire that refuses to let go, no matter how many times he tells himself he's being stupid feeling and acting in such a way.

( It's all just a dream, anyway, isn't it?

Who cares.

A dream is only remembered by those that think highly of it, anyway. ) ]

If it's on your lips, I want to hear it.

---

[ it's probably hard to figure out how long Aventurine clings and hides against the Trailblazer, how long Caelus offers that seemingly endless protection to him. Eventually, though, the Stoneheart's posture has the tension fully push out of it, and he finally (finally) is able to let Caelus go. Aventurine seems a bit embarrassed in the aftermath, but for the most part is able to keep his composure. ]

Well, anyway. Even though it's a tossup of what'll happen to you and the others, I guess we really should prepare for the worst.

... Who have you seen so far that is where we're from, again?

[ Aventurine realizes that he doesn't even remember it he was specifically told, and if he was, he's already completely forgotten it. ]

[trashblaze]

Thank you—

[ For allowing this significant moment to happen. For allowing him to say such a cherished name. Caelus won't forget any of this. Not the way Aventurine's usual facade is absent. Not the way Aventurine seems to quiver in his arms, allowing the trailblazer to carry his weight entirely. Though it may be a dream, he can feel his gentle breath and the way his heart beats so close to him. It's all such comforting sensations that it almost makes Caelus forget the unsettling atmosphere outside their little bubble in this shadowed corner.

The first time Caelus said it when he asked just now, it was already a silent whisper. But he stops his breath for a second, gathering the guts within him. He leans in, moving to press their heads together and whispers it again, more powerfully. He says the name with such clear intent, no hesitation. Only his smile and bright eyes. Every tone is said so preciously, as it deserves to be. ]

—Kakavasha.

[ Caelus allows the moment to keep going, as long as the other needed it. Never moving away, never feeling tired at all. He could do this forever, or at least as long as this dream allowed it. Once Aventurine pulls back, the trailblazer eagerly observes that really, really cute expression from the gambler. His smile can only become more rejuvenated after witnessing it. He lets out a small, fleeting giggle before answering the question. ]

Mm, so far? I've seen a friend I met in Amphoreus. And Sunday is here! I plan to scope around this area soon, since maybe Dan Heng is somewhere, too. Not long ago, he and I were in Amphoreus together with this friend of ours. His name is Phainon.

[sorte]

[ who the hell is Sunday? why is he saying that name so enthusiastically? obviously it has to be another Sunday?? But who would also be named Sunday??

There were some other names mentioned, but yeah— ]

...Sunday?

[trashblaze]

[ …? ]

Yes? Sunday!

[ Aventurine didn't hallucinate it, Caelus says the name in a very familiar manner now. ]

Former head of the Oak Family?

[sorte]

[ man. he thinks he just threw up a little in his mouth. ]

Really?

[ Aventurine doesn't even know what he's asking "really" for here.

...except, yes he does. it's is Caelus really saying that person's name so friendly? why!! ]

[trashblaze]

Huh?

[ Oblivious to those thoughts, Caelus is trying to piece out what exactly Aventurine means. Maybe he's trying to confirm if Sunday's really here? He's in such disbelief. ]

Yeah! Really! He's somewhere nearby. We went our separate ways temporarily so we could cover more ground to explore.