Hijinks Mingle

[potentite]

Who: Everyone!
Where: Anywhere around the hub!
When: Days 103-105
Open/Closed: Open mingle!
Notes: See this post for details on the moon prompt and this one for the telepathy/dream/spirit prompts!



[A | Flower Gleam and Glow]
[The nearby moon is still passing close to the hub island, meaning the effects are still in play. Perhaps now is the time to stop and smell the large lit up sparkling moonflowers that have bloomed? Or be annoyed by the mosquito-like insects that came with them.

Alternatively, the deer seem to draw some sort of energy from the moon's light. Given their size, at least their sudden aggression and proximity to the base camp isn't the worst thing in the world but a kick would still break a rib or other bone so be careful! Possibly help each other deal with these cute but troublesome fauna.]



[B | Eavesdropping]
[For some reason, the telepathy will suddenly get rather wonky. Characters won't know why it's happening, though of course no doubt there will be ponderings, but it means characters won't be in control of their ability to broadcast — or more specifically, not broadcast — their thoughts. Time to find out secrets of an embarrassing nature. Or maybe something sadder is going on in your character's head.

If this wasn't bad enough, the area around the signet might experience burning or tingling. Just try to keep a lid on your brain for the day and distract yourself from any annoying pain.]



[C | Talking In Your Sleep]
[Or maybe your character just doesn't have the most interesting thoughts. Maybe they're busy thinking about pie instead of their upsetting childhood. That's fair. Pie is great.

But surely sometimes it haunts their dreams. With the telepathy running amuck, it's no wonder dreams and nightmares are leaking through, too. Of course, it doesn't have to be an accident. Feel free to grab a friend and share a fanciful dreamscape together on purpose! But for those nuts that are tougher to crack, accidents can and will happen.]



[D | Who You Gonna Call]
[Last but not least, as Friday rolls around, there seems to be something odd going on with the island. If your character is inclined towards the spiritual or supernatural, they'll no doubt notice the strange heavy thickness hanging around. There are whispers in the air and all of new energy just feels solemn. Might be good to give people a heads up and keep an eye on it.]

Comments

[rootandbranch]

O-only if the ship rises. I-- the anchor is holding it down.

I'm scared...

[rootbound]

...

If you want to go, to get away from all this, I'll help you move the anchor.

I--I'm scared too. I don't think I can do it alone.

[rootandbranch]

[the baby squeaks into your shirt, then goes silent as it engages in FIERCE CONCENTRATION ON THE PROBLEM. it doesn't stop trembling, but eventually it nods, not trying to get its head loose from your shirt in the process.]

O-okay. Let's.

[rootbound]

[takes a deep breath and then tries...to find his feet...still holding a double armful of baby snakedragon, cool cool cool, okay, he still has legs, it's just one foot and then the other, bracing against the wall and trying not to think too hard about the prickling on his back]

[rootandbranch]

[you find you can walk a little easier as you keep working at it.

when you make your way to the anchor, it's massive, towering over your head, and the metal is cold enough to freeze the skin of your fingers. but what's one more assault on your skin, honestly? your skin has already dealt with a lot today. the baby wriggles, unsure if it should get down from your arms or not, though it's been a still heavy lump, unwilling to move, up till now.]

[rootbound]

[it depends on what the answer to this is, probably]

How do we let it loose? Just push?

[rootandbranch]

S-should be. If we can get it loose enough, it'll tear free, even if we can't move it much--

[the baby does try to climb down after all; it can tell that it'll be needed here if you want its help in pushing.]

[rootbound]

[let's shove this anchor out of here with our too-tiny selves, sure]

[rootandbranch]

[the anchor creaks and grinds alarmingly, its metal cold enough to burn your abused hands. it's somehow heavier than even its size and weight should suggest, and you can feel that you're pushing against something--

no sooner has it shifted the slightest bit than you gets an idea of what. a flood of images and feelings from the scene above rushes through you with nightmare intensity; the land ravaged and fighting back, the Jotunn howling in the flames burning the trees and grass, the sea freezing over into ice and breaking and freezing again as you thrash and scream and try to bite down on a man with a red beard in front of you. the whole scene is heavy in your gut, even the parts you're not directly touching: this is part of who you are.

the baby dragon cries out and curls into a ball like a pillbug, shielding its face with its wings.]

[rootbound]

[Vern can't stand against that visceral flood either, going to his knees again -- but he also cares about the horror of it less than he cares about Geir, who is Jormugand, who is Geir...

is there a point on the anchor sharp enough to cut flesh? or the nails the ship is made of?]

[rootandbranch]

[I MEAN, SURE

KNOCK YOURSELF OUT

THERE CAN BE A SLIVER OF BONE OR SOMETHING USED AS A FASTENER SOMEWHERE, THE SHIP NEEDS TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF NAILS TO FUNCTION]

[rootbound]

[gashes his palm open on a (metal) nail and kneels next to Geir, gathering him in again with his uninjured hand]

Hey.

[rootandbranch]

[you can find a nail that's made of metal and not the bones of the damned, sure, fine, be that way.

the baby stops shoving at the anchor and gasps when he gathers it in, not resisting; it goes stiff and tense, still obviously not used to being held yet.]

W-what??

[rootbound]

[Vern's hold is gentle, at least; he puts his wounded hand near the baby dragon's nose.]

Drink this. I think...I think it might help.

[rootandbranch]

Why? Did you change your mind?

[the baby's words are suspicious, but it doesn't seem to see any other real choice, so it leans forward and laps at the blood on your hand. you feel a strange tingle, but nothing else immediately happens... well, it stands to reason. what's blood without a vow?]

[rootbound]

[he starts on the vow, trips over the harsh old dialect, and finally bows his head so his shadow falls over the baby dragon instead, speaking plainly, words spilling]

I am Vern of no Name and no family. On my blood, on my life, I call you Jormungand World-Serpent, your taken name; on my blood, on my life, I call you Geir, a child name but no less true and no less part of you. I love you. I called you once with my flesh and blood for destruction, but we decided there could be more to life than destruction. We did it together. You might not know it here, but we walked away from this together once. I believe we can do it again. Will you come with me? Please.

[rootandbranch]

[the baby stares up at you in shock, and he feels... something change, in the dream; some sense of sleeping recognition. the cut on his palm heals.]

Come with you... where?

[the boat around them is going misty, not quite seeming real or solid any more.]

[rootbound]

[gathers it closer, shivering, glad for the change but frightened too, hoping, yearning for the safety of their cave, the place they just finished making for themselves, to appear]

Home...?

[rootandbranch]

[there's a moment of confusion-- home? -- but dream does eventually seize on the image in your mind, and you find the cave softly forming around you as the boat finishes fading out. the little red dragon climbs into your lap with an exhausted sigh, head hanging.]

...sorry...

[rootbound]

[they're battered and in pain, but alive; Vern gathers the dragon up against his chest, tucking its head gently under his chin]

It's okay.

[rootandbranch]

[the cave has more amenities than it does in reality, if you look around: a workbench of some kind for Vern, imagined by a creature that's never tried to work on anything; a basin for water; more and better reed mats than they've been able to make on their own; colors on the walls...]

I haven't really faced it.

[rootbound]

[he is FOCUSED!!! on GEIR!!!! he'll marvel at the cave later]

...your name? Ragnarok?

[rootandbranch]

[there are plants on the walls and floor, too, for the record. Geir likes them.

the baby's head is warm and fits under your chin comfortably.]

What it would be like... that that's in me.

I don't think "Geir" can be a person until I do.

[rootbound]

Don't deal with it alone...

[rootandbranch]

[the tiny dragon doesn't answer, but it does shove its face further into the hollow of your throat.]