JUMP TO MONTHLY PROMPT ↓
A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.
Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—
WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?
▶ NO
Please take a moment to complete your orientation.
Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty—there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.
As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 9.
If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.
Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway—it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed—the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.
Immediately to the southwest of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. It looks welcoming, with an inviting glass facade and a sign above the entryway announcing it as the "TOURIST CENTER." It's a humble building with a receptionist's desk on the back wall opposite the entrance, empty magazine shelves lining the side walls, and a few spinning brochure racks full of blank pamphlets. Anyone is welcome to peruse the tourist literature, though they won't offer much information, being primarily filled with pictures of the surrounding area—City Hall, the park, a statue garden, and the surprisingly heavily-featured cemetery. There are a few sentences sprinkled throughout about basic offerings of the city, such as apartment complexes and office buildings, as well as a few maps with the same limited scope as the larger version on the wall behind the receptionist's desk.
The main feature of the tourist center is the interactive kiosk installed dead in the center, right in the middle of a few rows of uncomfortable chairs that fill the small room. It's noticeably in the way of any would-be foot traffic through the tourist center, and something about the technology seems a little more modern than the computer behind the desk or the landline phone on the wall. The kiosk is a tall silver rectangle, about average adult height, and the upper half is a screen welcoming visitors to touch it to activate the kiosk. If you were to touch it, the screen would come to life with simple dialogue inviting visitors to ask it their questions.
However, residents should note that the kiosk is only programmed to assist with exploration within the available areas of the city. It may not be able to answer every question, and tampering with the kiosk may result in unreliable or inaccurate answers!
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.
As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully—very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.
Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of—no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store—it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.
A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.
You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex—finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.
The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that—the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.
As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces—a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.
Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
THE POISON'S IN THE DETAILS.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Monthly prompt includes the potential for body horror, including: mold or fungus; spores; and hanahaki-like symptoms. It also includes the potential for violence, mutilation, or death. Please label potentially triggering content in subject headers and interact responsibly with threads!
With the cacophony of the fun fair now gone, packed up and sent away for another year, the southern half of the park is now empty. That doesn't mean that the park itself is without attractions, though: up in the northern corner, sprawling out across the green, is a curious garden full of winding paths and draping trees, and within it, the smaller poison garden, where a variety of different flowers blossom and bloom along the gravel path. From roses to gladiolus, tulips to belladonna, this garden has many flora that residents may recognize from their homes, and some that they most certainly will not. As residents walk along the paths, observing and smelling and—for the brave—touching these plants, they will encounter a long wooden table, stretched out in the midst of fresh cut green grass.
This table has been decorated for a party, though it seems that all the guests must be late. A strange variety of different sized chairs and cushions have been set out along the long length of the table; it seems to fit at least twenty people, maybe even more. Small dishes and porcelain tea cups lay in random design across the off-white table cloth, used flower doilies and half-folded napkins tucked here and there as though someone left in a hurry. Even stranger still, there are six large, ornate pots of tea, scattered about the table, each warm to the touch and, you guessed it: full of tea. You suddenly find yourself craving a cup, and tuck into one of the chairs to pour yourself some...
...but you didn't think that it would be that easy, did you? Once you've swallowed a mouthful, or even your whole cup, your body starts to feel strange. Depending on the color—or flavor—of the tea you're drinking, you're going to experience some side effects:
| Color |
Flavor |
Effect |
| Red |
Hibiscus: This tart and fruity tea is naturally sweet. |
You will begin vomiting blood. The amount is up to your body's reaction. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Yellow |
Jasmine: This tea has a light, floral note, and is slightly sweet. |
You will hallucinate something terrifying near you, and may lash out and attack those around you. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Blue |
Pea Flower: This brilliantly-colored tea has a very delicate, woody flavor. |
You will gradually begin losing one of your senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch). The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Black |
English Breakfast: This is a full body tea, with rich undertones and a bold flavor. |
Something very terrible will begin happening to your body: your hair may start falling out, you may become covered in hives, or your skin may start opening into sores. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Green |
Green: This tea has a very clean, grassy flavor, like the earth. |
You will begin to transform into a terrifying creature or animal of your choosing. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Orange |
Ginger: This is a tea with a warming, slightly spicy taste. |
After drinking, you will suddenly fall into a death-like coma. A kiss may wake you, or the correct antidote. |
In a panic, you look for something to help you. Just beyond the table, tucked away into a wall of ivy, is an old wooden shelf, the lettering nearly worn all away on it. Little packets of seeds line the tiered shelves; there are no pictures on them, but the packets themselves seem to all be different colors—and you may notice that the colors match the colors of the various teas on the table.
Ripping open the packet that matches the color of your tea, you find it contains actual seeds—will you swallow them and risk a plant growing in your stomach, just to see if it will counteract the effects of the tea? Oh, surely that's the stuff of fairytales, isn't it?
Residents are welcome to explore the various paths around the outside of the garden, observing plants and flowers of their choosing. The tea party is open to all, and the tea will continue to be brewed somehow, no matter how many people drink it. Players can choose the extent of the negative effects on their character, or have their character remain unaffected by the tea entirely. In order to get rid of the negative effects, characters must either find the correct seed packet that matches their tea and eat the seeds, or wait twenty-four hours for the symptoms to subside. The seeds will not do anything but cure the character—though they're welcome to think something awful might happen.
The tea party cannot be destroyed, and items that are moved from the table can only be moved within the perimeter of the poison garden. Characters are unable to steal things from the tea party; they will mysteriously return back to the table if taken beyond the aforementioned border. The tea party will remain there permanently, though the negative effects of the tea will mysteriously disappear after November 1st.
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
A DROP OF BLOOD OR A DROP OF EGO.
At the apex of the path that winds around the poison garden is a large greenhouse that looks like it has seen better days. The panels are filthy, covered in dust and dirt and grime, and the doors creak on their hinges when you open them. Inside, the air is hot and musty, but the smell of herbs and spices fill your senses, letting you enjoy the atmosphere. The greenhouse is clearly separated into two different paths: the one to the left has a hanging sign which reads "DEADLY BEAUTIES" and the one to the right has a hanging sign which reads "BEAUTIFUL DEADLIES".
Heading to the left, you decide to observe the various plants there. Shelf upon shelf of various potted plants watch you as you go past; some of them snap at the air, veiny teeth grasping for the delicious meat of fruit flies and ants, and some of them threaten to touch you, with vines that roll and curl outward for just a shivering touch. Overhead, tangles of vined plants and spiked ivy mix together, an oppressive shadow that makes you feel as though you're trapped in this place as you walk through. Be careful: these carnivorous plants might be beautiful, but they won't hesitate to get a little too friendly with you. The floor is caked with dirt, but some of those brown stains might not just be from mud and dust, smeared by shoe heels and work boots. These plants might want a taste of blood.
Heading to the right, you find yourself in a beautiful space, the flowers so large they seem almost overwhelming. Have the plants gotten bigger, or have you simply gotten smaller? Gorgeous purple blossoms, pink petals, bright blue flowers and speckled white flowers cower and bend to cast you under them, like a flower-patterned umbrella sheltering you from the rain. The further you walk under them, however, the more you get the feeling that they're not just there to watch over you: they're there to explore you. At first, it's just a few gossipy whispers, so quiet you might not think they're real; then it's full-blown voices, the flowers bending and twisting as though to speak to each other in harsh, judgmental tones. What are they talking about? Well, they're talking about you—your secrets, your opinions, the things you don't want anyone else to know. These flowers are spilling your tea, and anyone walking along with you is going to hear it.
The back of the greenhouse—if you make it there—has the same doors as the front. They open back out onto the winding, circular path of the poison garden, where you can head back home...or experience the whole thing over again.
The greenhouse is rather large, and characters are welcome to walk through it along any path they wish. The carnivorous plants will possibly nip and bite at your characters, or try to restrain them, but they aren't very strong and can easily be broken away from. Feel free to imagine as much of a struggle as you wish, but they will not inflict any kind of mortal wounds on characters.
The giant, oversized flowers will tell your character's secrets or their deepest darkest opinions—this is open to player choice. The flowers cannot be attacked or hurt, and the only way to get them to be quiet is for someone OTHER than the character they're talking about to scold them or tell them to be quiet. Alternatively, if you can walk the path hand in hand with another character, this will also cause them to go quiet.
Plants cannot be taken from the greenhouse or killed, and they cannot be dug up from their pots. The greenhouse itself also cannot be destroyed, and any fire lit in the greenhouse will be immediately extinguished by an overhead sprinkler system. This place is meant for enjoyment and admiration, not crime!
JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS
WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There are even some places that other residents have created! There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.
If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations. We highly recommend checking out the Character-Run Locations as well - they might be great places for new characters to get started!
JUMP TO TOP ↑
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
citycenter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-10-01 08:38 pm
cw: referenced self-harm (it's for magic but still)
And yet, here he was, the man who haunted his nightmares and his waking moments alike. The man consumed his every thought. When he casts magic, he thinks of him. When he closes his eyes, he sees his lifeless form. He hears his words, goading him, chiding him, reminding him bad he was at everything.
The meager flame flickers out in his hand as he simply stares at him. Oh, now he has nothing to say, the flowers laugh, but he doesn't hear them any longer. Doesn't hear as they start to spill his secrets. As they prattle on about his nightmares. As they speak truths that should never be spoken, and much less to Holland.
But it doesn't matter.
Kell's hand goes for his knife, and it isn't until he's about to draw it against his skin when he stops, remembering how poor the flame had been; how weak the wind in the park. Magic didn't speak to him here the way it did in London. It was quiet, far away. As if whispering to him from another room when it used to be in warm conversation. ]
I can't...
[ His own voice sounds distant even to himself as he tries to form the words. But Holland looks terrible. And he...what? He was going to heal him?
It catches up with him that that was exactly what he was about to do.
He looks down at the knife in his hand. Logic slams into him like a brick wall, suddenly, reminding him that Holland is his enemy and even if he could heal him (which he can't), he shouldn't, because he'd almost certainly have the upper hand here.
(The flowers chide him for this too, Oh, so you'd leave him to die again? How thoughtful of you! We'd expect nothing else! Run away little spoiled prince.)
He stares pathetically at his knife for only a moment longer before he puts it away. He feels so ineffective. So useless. He can count on one hand the number of times he's felt this way before. He hates it, but there's nothing he can do about it. Holland looks a mess for all that he's trying to hide it and there's nothing he can do.
Finally, he wills himself to say something, anything, so he's not so pitifully standing here staring at him in shock (and, if he had to admit it, a small measure of relief). ]
How long have you been here?
cw: referenced self-harm (same) & graphic violence
Whatever he wants, but none of it is here. He cannot take back the throne, he cannot string Athos & Astrid Dane from the spires of the White Castle. He cannot reclaim the stone and save his home. To top it off, he can barely feel his magic, and he is stuck with Kell Maresh who so kindly left him to die.
No, he owes Kell nothing. Holland had his own curled blade, safely tucked away, but he does not brandish it. He'd already tried a spell earlier, but the wound had yet to heal. Wherever they were, the magic here could not be commanded the way it so easily yielded in London. His curled fist and a bleeding cut is proof enough of that. ]
Long enough to know how ineffectual that would be.
[ He spares a glance to the flowers. They recoil from him, whispering words of all the horrid deeds he's done at the hands of the Danes. He could recite each one if they asked him to, and it would not make him flinch. ]
What, did you intend to kill me a second time?
no subject
[ They're empty words. He knows he doesn't mean them, although, whether Holland knows that is another question entirely. Kell tries to focus and take stock. Look past the dried blood and the old wounds. His eyes eventually find the bleeding cut, and it confirms Holland's words.
Well, he'd certainly be better off trying to heal Holland than Holland would himself. Of course Holland's magic was better than his, but Antari had the most difficulty healing themselves. Even if they also had a rather hard time being killed. Holland was right about that too. ]
Besides, by the looks of it, it wouldn't be a "second time."
[ Brave words, the flowers mock him, for someone so scared.
Scared of death, scared of what it must have been like in Black London, scared of the anger no doubt still burning inside of Holland--well deserved, Kell was certain. ]
no subject
[ You're too weak to finish the job, he almost wants to say. The flowers really do say it, though whether they're talking to Kell or Holland is another question entirely. (It's Holland.)
Holland levels Kell the same angry stare that he's held onto since he first laid eyes on him. His voice remains calm, unaffected, but for a furrow in his brow. If Kell had finished the job, he wouldn't be here. If Kell had just given up the stone, none of this would have happened.
You owe him, you hate that, don't you? the flowers turn mocking, and no amount of Holland's glares seem to affect them. If you'd won, where would you be? Bleeding into a cup?
Holland keeps his anger tamped down, fist clenching tightly. It simmers and boils, but remains only in his single, grey-green eye, and in his frown. He hates this. He hates Kell even more. He's powerless in a new way, and Kell is both all that he has, and all that he hates. ]
What exactly did you think would happen?
no subject
[ But he's interrupted by those flowers, this time the ones that are chiding Holland. So he turns to them, which feels only a little bit ridiculous. He has, after all, been speaking to magic all his life: ]
None of this is any of your business.
[ And then, blessedly, the flowers chiding Holland actually stop. Sure, the ones going after him are still relentless in their derision, but at least one set of the flowers have calmed down. A pity only the ones talking at Holland would listen to him, although he assumes that's by design.
He also assumes Holland won't extend him the same favor. ]
Does it matter now? I thought you would kill me to keep me from going to White London. I did what I had to.
cw suicidal ideation
Stupid, kind-hearted sentiment. Holland wants to shake it out of him. He brings a hand to his temples, anger still dripping from his voice. ]
You misunderstood my question. Why didn't you kill me?
[ It should have been clear -- Holland wanted to die. Astrid wanted Kell alive, but Holland wanted out. This is how people work, you try to kill them and they kill you. It seemed so easy, how could Kell get it wrong? ]
How can you be so bad at this? You should have finished me off.
no subject
It's not like the flowers were saying anything they weren't both aware of already. ]
It's like you said, Antari aren't easy to kill.
[ Sanct, but he'd felt so dead when he'd carried his body back to White London. And when he'd thrown him into Black London it seemed such a foregone conclusion. Maybe he wouldn't kill him but...
How could he ever return from that place? Surely he'd be killed, ravaged, destroyed from the inside out.
Kell frowns. The thought certainly had crossed his mind. ]
Why is this the thing you're hung up on? I thought you'd be more angry that I tried to kill you!
[ That he sent him to that place. ]
no subject
[ There's no doubt that the flowers are right about Kell, just as they had been about himself. Kell left him to die, because he was too weak to do it himself.
Kell was weak, and he'd still managed to free him. He was soft, and he was foolish, and he didn't learn a single thing. ]
I'm not angry because you tried to kill me, Kell. I tried to kill you—I expected you would do the same.
[ He takes a breath, sighing like he's speaking to a particularly slow learner. Which is about what he thinks Kell is. ]
I'm angry that you spared me.
[ Yeah, so Holland has some problems. And being sent to Black London would not help, though luckily he was too busy being unconscious to pay too much attention to that part. But as Holland speaks, his anger starts to boil over. He can't hold it back as well, and there's certainly no need to now, with his rune a jagged scar. ]
Even when I could have taken you with me, you didn't even bother to do it right!
no subject
[ What he had done should have killed anyone else--the fact Holland was still alive proved there was little he could have done to kill him. At least in Kell's mind. ]
Besides, [ the words come tumbling out of his mouth all at once, trying to reassure Holland before he even realizes he's doing it ] the Danes are dead.
[ What good is that when you cast him out? What will become of White London now? Do you think of nothing but yourself?
Kell makes a noise of frustration as the flowers continue on. But his anger is as weak as the flame he conjured, compared to the anger that Holland was carrying. ]
I was just trying to get the stone back where it belonged.
no subject
That's enough. I don't need your speculation.
[ He'd rather not hear whatever dark thoughts or insecurities Kell held over Makt. Makt is his home, whatever magic controlled these things had no right to it.
Still, the news of the Danes' death gives him pause. It's not enough to simmer his anger, they were his to kill, but arguing over that would be useless with Kell. Kell wouldn't understand. Holland could have guessed as much, given that his rune was broken.
He takes a deep breath. One thing at a time. ]
That stone held unlimited power, and you just—threw it away?
no subject
I had to.
[ He almost tells him how he had dispelled it, but there's something about it that feels childish. There's something about trying to articulate it that makes it seem like that would have been impossible.
But that's what happened.
It is. The whole thing was over. And the lingering voice in his head...that was just his imagination. ]
Even you must have known nothing good would come of it.
[ After all, Holland had warned him. If he didn't control it, it would control him. And he'd almost been right. ]
no subject
[ Holland almost wants to laugh. Of course nothing good would come of it, but some places weren't afforded the privilege of "something good."
That was why it needed to be controlled. Subjugated like all magic should be. With the stone in his possession, Holland would have been unstoppable. He wouldn't have made the childish mistakes Kell did. ]
I could have saved Makt with that stone.
[ His voice is nearly still as he says it, cold and hollow. It's a waste to bring up to Kell, but Holland is too exhausted to keep his thoughts bottled up for much longer. His anger uncoils and his green eye hardens. If he had his magic, he wouldn't have to even bother with this. He would be gone. He would be anywhere but here.
But he isn't. And Kell March is here with him. His bottled up anger has its limits. ]
That stone was pure magic, something my world sorely lacks, thanks to your "Red London" closing itself off from us!
[ Magic or not, Holland presses in closer, raising his voice as he does. He'd had bound Kell to listen to him, if the magic would listen to him. He would force him to hear, but right now all he has is his voice. ]
In the right hands, that stone could have fixed everything. Maybe nothing good, but I could have taken back what was mine. And you just—threw it away!
no subject
It was perhaps unfair of him. But it was also rooted in his own experience. He had never been asked to save Red London (no, all he'd never done was bring the stone to it, making it undeniably worse), and he didn't see it as his burden. That belonged to the king and queen and one day Rhy...
Well, maybe he had made Red London his burden in some sense after all.
Regardless, it wasn't what he expected of Holland. Sometimes Kell felt like he belonged to nowhere at all, as an Antari. But it's clear now that Holland does not quite feel the same. ]
No.
[ he manages finally ]
No, you don't understand. You can't control that magic. It finds a way out. It takes over people and corrupts them.
[ And that's why, of course, he assumed nothing good would happen to Holland now. And it was all his fault. ]
no subject
It's simply the nature of things. The nature of his home. Makt was withering—wasting away, and it always would unless someone rose to the challenge. He could change it for the better, use his powers for something worthwhile. Save his people so that no one else had to be born with as miserable a life as his. He's animated now as he responds, the darkness in his left eye almost gleaming. ]
All magic can be controlled! Even if it has a will of his own, you just have to be stronger.
[ Like Holland was stronger. And without Athos' seal, he knows he would have been strong enough to control it. To manipulate it. To will open the doors and fix everything. ]
But you—you were never going to be strong enough, so you threw it away! And threw me along with it.
[ He goes quiet for the last part—more angry for his home, for his potential, and at Kell's weakness than for himself but... but he is angry for himself. It's a deep, hollow ache he doesn't allow himself usually, but he is too tired to care right now. ]
So, I'm going to ask again, Kell. And this time I want an honest answer. Why did you not kill me, if this magic was so terrible? Why did you toss me into Black London if that magic was so dangerous?
no subject
[ His voice sounds hollow. It seemed like the right calculus when Holland barely seemed alive. Someone had to go through. If he sent Holland, then, he would be able to go home. To his family. And to Rhy, who he had to keep alive now.
(Thanks in part to Holland's machinations but he can't even be mad when he knows the Danes were pulling his strings.)
But telling him this, to his face, telling him he had decided his life (and Rhy's life) were worth more than Holland's...it no longer feels so right or easy. ]
I didn't think you could come back from all of that.
no subject
Just admit you did it to save yourself.
[ Holland smiles. Not an ounce of joy permeates from the slight crease in his lip, but there's something in his green eye that almost, almost looks accepting. ]
"Antari aren't easy to kill," isn't that right? There's a reason for that.
[ And this time Holland reaches for Kell's hand, the one that held the stone, the one he so often uses to command his magic. He grips him by the wrist and squeezes. Let this be a lesson to him. Let his words sear into his mind. ]
You can't hesitate when you try to kill someone, otherwise I'm what happens.
no subject
The squeeze hurts, and he should be afraid for his hands, which are so important. But as Holland speaks, he can almost imagine the stone still in his hand and all that raw power coursing through his veins. ]
I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want...
[ it feels ineffectual and childish as it does in his nightmares, where he insists the same thing night after night. ]
Holland, please.
no subject
A pity, but nothing they do will undo it. Like with so much else, Holland has his hate and his anger and he can do nothing for it. He tightens his hold, pulling him close enough to whisper directly in Kell's ear. ]
You're pathetic, Kell.
[ And with that, he releases him, giving Kell a little shove for good measure. As long as Kell knows where he stands. As long as Kell knows he won't be forgiven—then Holland can stew in his anger as he always does. Quietly. With a steel, empty look in his eye. ]
Now, unless you have something else to say for yourself, we should get moving. I'd rather have you where I can see you, than risk you stabbing me in the back.
[ That's not true, though. This conversation proves it. Holland knows Kell won't try to kill him again. He clearly didn't want to in the first place. That weakness will get them both killed. But at least if something happens, Kell might be stupid enough to look out for Holland when it does. ]
no subject
It doesn't matter, soon enough Holland releases him and shoves him away and Kell doesn't give him the satisfaction of becoming frazzled. He rights his jacket and smooth it over as if nothing happened. He's perfectly willing to stay here among the flowers (flower boy, comes the echo of Astrid Dane, unbidden) when Holland suggests they leave together. ]
Fine.
[ as if it's a hardship. Which it isn't. He turns towards what he thinks is the exit, or at least, continuing forward. Through the garden. Not afraid of Holland stabbing him in the back. ]
You should get something for your hand. To stop the bleeding, I mean.
no subject
Kell is always so trusting, showing his back to Holland in a new place like this. Maybe he knows the truth—that Holland couldn't take him down if he tried, right now. If he does, he's done a good job of not showing it. ]
I'll be fine.
[ Holland looks down at his bleeding palm. It had been a shallow cut, more to test the magic of this world than anything. The spell had worked, but barely. He would have healed by now from such a minor wound before. But maybe his injury sapped him of his strength more than he thought.
He clenches his fist again, ineffectually willing the blood to stop. He's so weak like this. Exhausted and limited. He can't let that stop him now. ]
It was a shallow cut.
no subject
[ It's Antari blood, after all. Magical. Even if their magic felt so weak here, it could still be a threat. ]
Where are you staying?
no subject
He doesn't need Kell telling him what to do, but even Kell can make sense. Even if Holland won't tell him as much. ]
Satisfied?
[ You get used to a certain amount of damage when you live his life. The fact that the wound still hasn't healed is a serious problem, but one he's too tired to look at too closely. ]
I haven't decided. I've only just arrived.
[ He says that with some derision, like he had more important things to worry about than where he was going to sleep. (His priorities? Bad.) ]
no subject
So you haven't had much of a chance to look around?
[ Because this place is fucking weird. ]
no subject
[ He is exhausted. His chest aches. About the only reason Holland is still standing is because he has so much experience operating normally when under extreme pain and duress. ]
I haven't really looked around. Have you?
no subject
[ They finally get to the end of the flower area, back to the entrance of the greenhouse. Thank god. He's not sure he wants to try his look with the other side of it, so he heads out before the plants get more ideas. ]
There's no real information anywhere. Everything is just...empty.
[ Like, he assumes, Black London. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: more blood magic/harm
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)