lucetilogs | Possession Event

Entry tags:

Possession Event

Who: People in Luceti
What: Spiritual possession
When: The 26th to the 1st
Where: Luceti!
Summary: Check out the previous mod post.
Rating: If it gets smutty, move it somewhere private.

Starting at midnight on the 26th, Luceti and its inhabitants will find itself the focus of the Filial spirits, usually quiet and reclusive, now stepping out to deal with one of their own.

As promised, here is some additional information to help figure out how to play around with the spirits and interacting with similarly possessed people.

First off, each spirit has a certain time or place when they are at their most powerful. Consequently, characters possessed by them will enjoy these boosts and this in itself can be a deciding factor in what would otherwise be a stalemate. Here’s a quick run down:

Sona - She’s most powerful around lakes, rivers, and the ocean. Mostly this is concentrated at the southern lake.

Kipinn - He’s most powerful in high places, like mountain tops and the roofs of community buildings.

Faeren - She’s most powerful in the farmlands alongside things that grow.

Tsinku - He’s most powerful in the village itself, where technology thrives.

Eferin - He’s most powerful in the center of the forest where his heat may cause trees to burn. In fact, the upcoming forest fire may cause some trouble if his followers get too rowdy.

Hyt - It’s most powerful during the daytime under a bright sky.

Twila - It’s most powerful during the night time.

Nala- She has no domain and is generally welcome wherever she goes.

How possessed characters will deal with other possessed characters will depend on the interactions of the spirits themselves. A useful spreadsheet sums up these relationships. Those that have a friendly attitude to one another will generally allow ‘trespassers’ into their domain, but those they are not so friendly with may cause conflict.

Finally, to elaborate on Twila-possessed characters. Those with a natural affinity for darkness are likely to be possessed first. Once they have, they can try to recruit others less-compatible candidates to ‘join the cause’. Their goal is numbers. The more who are working with Twila, the better. Once they do, they’ll be inclined to act in their own self interest and if necessary, deal with others who try to get in their way. In the long term, the spirit Twila wants to stay this way, bonded to the Lucetians as hybrids, that way it cannot be imprisoned again. Think of it as pure survival instinct of an animal that’s spent way too long in a cage.

All isn’t lost. The other spirits may not be able to cage it again, but they won’t accept Twila reacting in this manner. Though it’s hard to tell what their beef with Twila is, they have an instinctive familiarity with the dark spirit and seem to act as its jail keepers.

They have the power to free people from Twila, but given their poor communication skills, figuring that out might just be a challenge. After all, the spirits can only communicate in shades of feeling and intentions, but not actually verbalize directions or marching orders. However, there will be a Malnosso post mid-event that will give everyone, possessed or otherwise, the info they need to turn things around.

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She held up a hand, electricity crackling along her fingertips. "Not. Not helping Derek. Not helping at all."

With a glare more to her sparking fingers than to him she shoved her hand back against her side, arms wrapped tight around her, wings pressing close as the wind kicked up for a proper storm. Soon, now, it would roll over the beach. Might last a few seconds. Might last a few hours. There was never an easy way to tell.

"For all that you make me loose my temper on my best and worst days this is not something I could forgive myself losing control over." Yes, Derek, it would bother her to know she killed you. Fried you like an egg. The very idea was disconcerting on several levels.

"Better the madman we know and can predict than the one that gets along with the chaotic, overly hormonal bitch."

"Well, at least he gets along with someone. That's probably going to be his breaking point though, if something happens to the few he cares about here. At that point, he won't have a reason to care about behaving. And, like you said, he's a god."

Derek's under no illusions; he's fully aware of what Loki is and what he could do...probably would do if he was here long enough and he lost his reasons for 'behaving'. It's why he'd prefer to be as far away from the man as possible. He was a vampire hunter, not a god killer. And if he were around when it happened, he'd still try to stop Loki anyway. Even though it would probably kill him.

But at least it would win other people some time, no matter how slight.

The wind was getting a distinct chill to it now. Derek gave the sea another glance, one great wing instinctively flaring out, and, without thought, cupping around Adele to shield her from the spray that was getting kicked up.

"You should probably head home. I think it's going to get messy."

"Is there a particular reason you tend to assume I am speaking of Loki specifically rather than a generalized comment on the inherent madness of the village? Did that last argument make such an impression on you? He is but one of my associates, one of many- and I still don't quite understand how it was that happened as I am far from the most pleasant person on the best of days. I truly want an answer for this. Why assume I'm speaking of him. We spoke of him. We argued, we swore, we threw lightening like frustrated little demigods, and the conversation containing him ended. We have moved beyond that part of the conversation. Why loop back around to it?" There were a few things she could think of that might explain that, but she'd rather have the truth of it.

"...do you assume that he and I are...? Involved? Somehow? Or is this the prototypical measuring of one's potential foes. Or simple alpha male posturing?" The storm she paid little mind to. This needed answering. Even if she twitched a bit at the sudden gust of wind and the way he blocked it without thinking.

"Honestly, I hadn't realized we'd moved on. You mock yourself too often, and unless you know more men than Loki like that, it's an easy assumption to make, especially since I don't know your long list of associates. And yes, it did make an impression. Because the last two fights we've had have been on his behalf."

And this is probably going to be a third if they keep going. He furls his wing again.

"You're a grown woman, Adele. And I have no business telling you who to associate with. My only concern about him is that if he breaks before you're gone, that you're close enough to him that you might become a casualty of it. Hopefully, I'm as wrong as I can be, and, believe it or not, that's one plate of crow I'll happily eat if it means you don't become a target. But just like you wouldn't forgive yourself if you fried me, I won't deal well at all with you getting hurt or worse. And it'll just eat at me more if it was someone you'd trusted who did it. There's few people I give that much of a shit about; I can't afford it. Not with who and what I am. If you want to call that posturing, then yeah, I guess I'm posturing."

"I wouldn't say it's too often- and I was referring to Twila as the overly chaotic and hormonal bitch. Not myself. I am not hormonal." She was almost fucking forty and far beyond that, or at the least truly ought to be. "And I know an abundance of men like that. I'd count you as part of them on occasion-"

Wait. Two? She only recalled the one rather long argument, then again she was quite often terrible at keeping track of conversational fuckups until the chance to smooth things over had long since passed. "If he kills me it won't last. Unless, of course, it does and I might be glad to be rid of this place."

A black, bitter thought, one she'd set aside time and time again and locked up somewhere she wouldn't think of it; Twila's lovely little mucking about dragged it to the front. After all, what was more selfish than just. Ending everything so you wouldn't have to bother? It wasn't a pleasant thing to hear and she didn't know if it would counteract anything for her to reach out and curl a hand around his. "Not posturing. Just. Being frustratingly decent."

He was counting today as well, since it was her concern over the god and what might happen that had really gotten her going, from what he could tell.

Derek's wings shift uncomfortably as she finishes the last statement.

"I'm being worried, Adele. Don't put me on a pedestal that I'm going to fall off of, probably sooner rather than later. Please. I'm just me, and I care about you." Another flick of those wings, crackling again.

"As for the rest..." he shakes his head. "You'd be missed if you left. If you're going home to die...you'd be mourned. And I'm not too thrilled with the idea of you waking up here missing something, either. I don't care if it can be put back."

Close as they were a crackle from his wings arced to hers, causing them to twitch and snap back along her spine from where they'd drifted out. Almost brushing his. She hated that she couldn't keep her wings as she wanted them- hidden.

"There have only ever been two men in my life I put on pedestals. My father, and Ben. Neither worked out terribly well for me." Both left. Hell. All the men in her life left or disappointed her after awhile. She'd stopped expecting anything years ago.

"I'd be forgotten when everyone returns to where they ought to be. And that is how it should be. Whenever you go back to your world, you'll forget me as well." She shrugged, the motion continuing along her wings, flowing and fluid and arcing little tendrils of electricity. "You would forget, and be better for it."

His own wings rustle when the arc goes between them, but instead of pulling his in, he just flexes them, as if to shake off any remaining discharge, and lets them settle naturally. He'd never been too concerned with what they did--it tended to foul shit up worse when he tried to control them, and that went doubly for their current size.

They knew when to stay still when he needed them to be still anyway.

"Yeah, well that's when I go home. I'm not there right now, now am I? And neither are you. And considering your talent for making friends despite yourself, I'm pretty sure there's someone back home who'd miss you too if you were there, whether you think so or not. As for being better for it, why don't you let me decide that for myself? Considering you're one of my better memories, I resent I'll forget them before I'd forget other things."

He pauses, realizing he's saying a lot--far more than he normally would. Far more than he would ever be comfortable saying at any other time. He hated making speeches. Yet, here he was, and after all this time of trying to keep his damn mouth shut. Dammit, Tsinku. Is nothing sacred?

Still...in for a pound...bastard.

"And good. I suck at pedestals. I'd rather be the asshole you know, then the saint that will eventually fuck up."

"It must be a sad commentary on your life as a hunter that I'm one of your better memories. I'm not certain if I should be flattered or feel poorly on your behalf." That had precious little do to with her rather low opinion of herself outside of the surgical ward and everything to do with an analytical look at the bend in their conversations. They rubbed one another raw as often as they provide some manner of comfortable companionship. They did not fit properly, empty spaces here and overlapping bits there.

Perhaps that is why they continued to seek one another out. Perhaps not. She'd much rather take a step back from the conversation, weigh everything before speaking further. Call a time out and reassess what it was she intended to sort out here.

Thoughtless and rippling at the next rumble of thunder her wings quirked out. Canted in Derek's direction, pinions brushing pinions. Like attracted like, after all.

"You shouldn't." What it was he shouldn't do she doesn't exactly say. Voice low, quiet, not afraid but. Tired. So very resigned. "I'll only disappoint you."

He smiles a little, part resigned humor, part weariness.

"I'd have to put you on your own pedestal to be disappointed, Adele. And I think we've taken a few too many chunks out of each other by now for that to happen. Neither one of us are perfect, and we both know that."

Still, he'll step back, breaking the arc reaching between them, his wings tucking away for the moment. Whether it's the physical cues he's picking up on, or the tone of her voice, it feels like they've said enough. And in his case, too much. It was probably time to put the wall back up, and time for him to give her space. Probably a lot of it.

One day, maybe, he'd learn to stop before it got to this point and he'd backed them both into a corner again.

He wasn't counting on it.

"...what would it take to put them back?" For a moment the ambiguous statement hung in the air, twined and ephemeral, the sillage almost visible between them. She could mean a great many things. The spirits, the ragged bits they'd ripped out of one another, the wings, anything. She was just about prepared to continue the thought when he pulled his wings back- and it was just another wall. Another line of defense.

For all that Twila had curled in her mind, selfish and chaotic and so very persuasive- Loki hadn't been entirely wrong. He was, she did, and she was so very tired of wanting and not having. Derek's wings withdrew, hers snapped forward. Even if she'd wanted to write it off as nothing, it'd been instinctive. A desire to continue that contact, to bring back that currant.

"I'm far more fond of you for your not being perfect."

"I don't know." And that was the truth across the board; the wings, the spirits, the pieces and the words. He didn't know.

Her physical reaction confused him. He was too used to reading people out of habit, and every time he thought he'd gotten a handle on the signals, she changed them. Come here, go away, leave me alone, come back. It was the most fascinating, and frustrating, thing about her. He had no idea what to do with her, or with it.

He allowed his wings to twitch forward again, carefully, cautiously letting them tap against hers.

"The sentiment is mutual."

...Hadn't he just decided to not go this way?

The only explanation she would ever be able to give, if asked, was that she was contrary by nature, or at least she had become so the more she spent time in this place. Without the intent focus on work, on surviving, she had more time to adjust. For the first time in years this place let her sort herself out as a person rather than staple herself back together when bits seemed to flake off.

Control ebbed and flowed and she knew she should walk away, but was also very aware that she did not want to. As good as fingers felt carding along feathers the jolt and crackle of energy from his wings to hers was all the more satisfying. Eyes half closed so she could focus on how it felt rather than what she thought, she slid her wings forward, curling around the outside of his. Shielding him from the wind and first few drops of rain.

"It is so terribly odd to hear you speak formally, Derek."

It takes him a few seconds, both to keep from jerking away from the unexpected contact, and then to pull in enough to make her...embrace...a little easier on her. He closes his own eyes, still not sure if he was going to stay or flee, although the longer the electricity danced between them, the more inclined he was to stay. Finally, he lets his forehead fall on hers, even though he'd yet to reach out with his hands.

"...I wasn't always so low class." It was a statement as well as a quietly humorous poke at himself, "It doesn't work out as well when it's the hunter that sounds like he's the one from high society, though. There are banter standards you have to keep up."

He pulled close and her wings curled all the more, covering his and lifting enough to shield their heads from the angle of the rain as it began. They had some time before the storm was upon them in truth, though the crackle of lightening overhead and the rumble of thunder was so thick in the air she could all but feel it in her bones. For everything else there was the lightening arcing between their wings.

"And this is why I will never be able to puzzle you out entirely." She murmured, reaching out where he didn't, hands curling in his. Completing the circuit started by their wings.

As the rain starts to fall, and if she'll allow it, Derek will work one wing free and try to slide it over hers--the same instinctive want to protect her from the elements as she seemed to want to do for him. It was only fair that they protected each other. After all, they were in it, literally, together for the moment.

He weaved his fingers into hers, and after one more hesitation, will pull her close, kissing her cheek before whispering in her ear.

"Do you need to?"

"No." It was an easy answer to give, as easy as letting him shift and curl his wing around one of hers against the rain. Feathers slid against feathers, static popping and crackling with the gesture and the sensation was warm and curling and made her shudder. Close but not quite close enough, and she took but one moment to consider. How much of this was a shift and how much of this was them.

Just one moment, before she murmured 'fuck it' to herself and turned to press her lips against his. It wasn't chaste, it wasn't entirely gentle, and it wasn't tender. They needed neither.

That was all he needed. Between months of already being sure of how he felt, trying to toe a line that he'd resented even as he'd done it out of respect and care for her, her wants, the time she needed to herself, and just waiting with an imperfect patience he'd never been convinced would be rewarded, the touch of her lips was enough to let go.

He didn't need a 'fuck it' or to question it. She was here, they were touching, and if this wasn't as clear of a message as she could give to him, then he'd never read her right and he might as well crash and burn in this moment.

His response is hungry, and he pulls her completely against him, arms wrapping around her and his hands buried in the soft mass of the feathers along her spine. He didn't give either of them room to think or breath; just to kiss, gently take her lip in his teeth, tease her tongue and then her neck with sharp bites. The shed electricity that had calmed somewhat started a new, intense dance along his wings, making the air pop and spark around them before reaching out to touch hers as well.

Continued here.

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