Piper 90: Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goneawaymod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
Entry tags:
- #memshare,
- #rig logs,
- adora,
- alloran semitur-corass,
- bunnymund,
- catra,
- dan sagittarius,
- guts,
- kevin armstrong,
- nora valkyrie,
- remy lebeau,
- rogue,
- ronald mcdonald,
- ronan lynch,
- sam winchester,
- saturday,
- setsuna higashi,
- stacia novik,
- tenten,
- ✘ aleifr bjornsson,
- ✘ remus lupin,
- ✘ sirius black,
- ✘ steven universe
Invasion!
Who: The New Hires
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
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He glares at the ground, frustrated. Zodd's warning always did seem a bit comical in hindsight. An apostle trying to give him a little heads up before everything went to hell. Some kind of bleak, ongoing joke between them. As his thoughts drift away, the setting starts to morph. Guts appears next to Sam as his older self, dressed in the jagged black platemail he wore on his missions outside the Rig. He looks displeased, to say the least.
A new memory - the warmth of a morning sun spills over the courtyard of a stone fortress. Guts in this memory is young, no older than fifteen. His face lacks the sharp angles and massive size of his older self, though he was still lean from his life as a soldier.
He is sitting in drenched armor next to a nude Griffith. The two of them were leaning up against a water well. Griffith's white hair cascaded in locks over his shoulders, having apparently been preoccupied with a bath when he decided to playfully dump buckets of water on his friend.
"It's called a Behelit, or the Egg of the King," Griffith says as he grasps his necklace,"They say whoever owns this is destined to rule the world, in exchange for their own flesh and blood."
He hands Guts the egg-like stone that had would save them from the monster. It was crimson, like a drop of blood, and covered in mismatched human facial features. As he turns it over, one of the eyes peels open to look at him, moving as if it were made of flesh.
Panic gets the stone thrown into the air.
"Neat, huh?" Griffith catches the necklace and smiles innocently.
"It's creepy!" pipes out his younger self.
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That's about the only advice he has to give as the memory changes. The much younger Guts is a sight, though the naked white haired guy is a bit...well. It's not like Sam hasn't seen guys naked.
At least this one isn't his brother.
He steps closer to look at the amulet and takes a step back when the eye opens and shudders. "Yeah. I was already of the opinion that anything a creature like that was amused by was a bad idea. That just sealed it. That thing is probably the worst sort of mojo."
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"That thing is a stone fetish that turns humans into monsters," he says flatly, "- for a price."
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"Yeah, things like that usually don't do anything good, at least in my experience." Sam steps back to Guts' side, shaking his head. "It seems innocent when it starts out, but the more it works on you..."
It's a different sort of thing that worked on Sam, but he feels the memories heading that direction and consciously wretches his mind away. Demon blood and Ruby, the obsession and damage it had caused? All a really bad idea.
Instead, he focuses on something else. The amulet. Or a different amulet, at least. Something more innocent. The kids in the memory aren't even teens yet, though Sam remembers Dean's not far off from it. But it was one of the few good Christmases they had and it's good to remember it.
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"Family gift, huh?" he sounds calmer than before, now that he isn't quite so exposed. "Hope it didn't bring too much bad luck with it."
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"No, it didn't bring any bad luck. No more than we were already due." Sam huffs a half laugh, shaking his head. Keeping a tight control on his memories. There are darker memories associated with that amulet, after all. "It kept us both going sometimes when things got dark."
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Most of his life had been steeped in horror and despair, despite his mind hovering on the happier memories of his time with the Hawks. He learned the value of companionship the hard way.
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That initial memory showed that occasional friction Guts had with his comrades - brothers of a sort, even if they weren't blood related. In the end, though, they always had each other's backs.
"Don't think I'd have the best perspective on what 'normal' is from your world. Are monsters a thing hidden from most people?"
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He nods after a moment. "Yeah, they are. Most people think monsters like we fight are just stories. They tend to be happier thinking that."
1/2
He freezes as a memory slowly starts to tumble out of him, too late to stop its path. Everything went to hell.
2/2
Guts as an adult, running towards Griffith. His heart seized with worry. He is dimly aware of the sounds of horsemen and wagons far behind him - the rest of the Band of the Hawk following suite. His boots hit water as he desperately dashes into the shallow river to reach him.
Griffith is a husk of the man he was before. He was little more than skin and bone, and his entire body was wrapped in bandages. His head is encased in a heavy iron helmet, where the wide horror in his eyes was all that could be seen in his face. He sits weakly in the still water - it took all the strength in his body to hoist his own head up. Tangled in his limp wrist is the Behelit, its eyes slowly peeling open. The dreams of this man had been crushed out of him.
Behind him, Griffith is crowned by the black disk of a solar eclipse, slowly aligning into place. The sky is a vivid red. Various figures - human but not quite - flank him within clouds of mist, ravenous and excited.
As Guts gets closer to him, the memory starts get less coherent. Scratchy. Muddled. A storm of emotion starts to crackle from somewhere deep within his psyche, an ugly mass of rage and anguish. The present Guts next to Sam looks visibly distressed, jaw set and beads of sweat starting to form on his skin. His breath was quickening as if he were in physical danger. Something horrific was bubbling to the surface.
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The more nebulous memories also stir more in Sam's mind, memories faded now thanks to another, but still strong enough. Sam closes his eyes, reaching down to press his thumb into a scar on his left hand before he turns...and slaps the hell out of Guts. Anything to break the memory chain, break its hold on the other man.
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“Even now, it keeps coming back...” Guts sounds weak and shaky - totally out of place for someone who was usually the stoic giant. He can’t forget or run away from it, even if he wanted to. ”This damn place... I didn’t mean for that to happen...”
The fact that this had been in front of someone be just met made it sting all the more. He hated sharing this, it made him feel so naked.
This memory, although quiet, holds a deep sense of loss and grief. It is a chasm as open as the starry sky his past self was staring at, lying still and quiet in the grass. Alive, but now short an arm and an eye. The wounds were fresh enough to ache and bleed still.
“This was the time I was branded,” his current self says, regaining some of the strength in his voice,”when all this magical crap would be the new normal.”
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Even without the physical injuries to show for it. "Honestly, I've never known a time when this sort of stuff wasn't true for my family. I might not have known about it or what it was, exactly, but it was always part of my life."
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"I'm sorry. I don't usually speak of this..."
It isn't like him go anywhere near this topic with a ten-foot pole, even with his comrades. He is mindful to focus on the calm memory, more than happy to redirect the attention back on Sam.
"So.. this was always normal for you? The magic, I mean."
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"I kept up with my school work, but there was a lot of learning how to deal with the things that I'd never known about, too."
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"The only people I see buried in this many books are witches, priests, or nobles. You some kind of priest?"
He's going to guess a noble wouldn't put themselves in such a dumpy looking room.
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He looks at his younger self again. "Mind, these sorts of books aren't the kind that get put through the presses. These are usually put together by other hunters, or just people who know what they're talking about and pull together the information necessary for other hunters."
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They can also be the fanatical 'burn them at the stake'-types if one is really unlucky. He's just... not a big fan of religion!
"So they start training hunters pretty young?"
He asks the question without much concern about the age. It wouldn't be unusual for a knight or noble to go through similar things as a kid. Studying and a lot of practice for fighting. With him it had simply been all fighting and survival.
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The rest makes him pause and frown. "Not really. Hunting is something that people tend to fall into rather than be brought up in. Mostly, at least. There are a few families that run to Hunting, but they've mostly died out."
No need to mention that their mother's family was one of them. They had mostly died out, after all.
"Most people get into Hunting because they've been touched by what we hunt. My mother was killed by a demon and that's what made my father start hunting. He brought me and Dean along with him."
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BAD times, Sam. Not fun at all. But he sits quiet as Sam explains the rest, intrigued. This is all new to him - hunting apostles had been a pretty lonely task up until recently. It boggles him to think there'd be some kind of community of them.
"Good that people have some way of helpin' each other, at least. Back in Midland, even some knight or general that gets his family eaten by monsters really can't do much about it..."
The monsters pretty much have free reign - as seen by Zodd there.
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Unfortunately, like too many people, the fact that he was close to the Winchesters meant he died far too early.
"Most Hunters are loners, but there are a few who take point for information, that sort of thing. More of a network out there than we were told about when Dad was Hunting."