Fade Rift Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faderifting) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2019-05-15 11:04 am
faderifting) wrote in faderift2019-05-15 11:04 am
Entry tags:
- ! open,
- alexandrie d'asgard,
- bastien,
- benedict quintus artemaeus,
- darras rivain,
- isaac,
- julius,
- kostos averesch,
- matthias,
- nell voss,
- wysteria de foncé,
- yseult,
- { anders },
- { athessa },
- { charles vane },
- { ilias fabria },
- { kenna carrow },
- { lakshmi bai },
- { leander },
- { magni an forleif o talonhold },
- { thor }
EVENT: TRUTH BOMB
WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.
It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.
But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.
Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.
The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.
A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.
But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.
Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.
The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.
A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.
no subject
Leander is moving, too, leaning back even before Ilias's hand reaches him, likewise dissuading his own impulses with a light and steady push. Even though the world beyond them had begun to shrink down to the soft tunnel vision of intimacy, of no time, of nothing but breath and pulse and anticipation—still, reluctantly, he takes his hand away. Gently, he clears his throat.]
I know. [An obvious pang behind his smile. (There's no perhaps in its transparency; not for him.)] I'm— [sorry. He isn't. It's what you say, what he tries to say, but.] I can't even blame the spell for it, can I.
[No, he can't. Neither of them can, any more than you can blame the smoke for burning down your house.
That same hand reconnects with Ilias, the lightest guiding touch at the small of his back, and Lea turns to stand more alongside him. Softly,]
Here—let's go inside. You can tell me about him on the way.