Possession Event

[lucetimods]

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.

Comments

[originaljackass]

Now they were getting somewhere. He just wasn't sure where. "So what happened? If he kicked your ass, then big deal. I've had that happen plenty of times."

[herotypical]

"C'mon, Jack. I'm not so conceited that I can't take an unfriendly ass-kicking between mortal enemies. Well. Semi-mortal enemies. Semi-mortal enemy and pesky blonde nuisance." Funny, really, how ones moral sank when one realized the enemy held you in such little esteem.

"He...got inside me."

[originaljackass]

For a man with a very simple obsession, his mind went to one place immediately.

"Sexually?"

1/?

[herotypical]

"What?"

[herotypical]

"No, I--"

[herotypical]

"I can't believe you went there! Jack! What kind of a person do you think I am...?"

[herotypical]

And then she thought about a few of her exes -- him included -- and found herself scrambling forward to tear the tequila bottle out of his hands. Glug-a-freaking-lug.

[herotypical]

"You're disgusting," she gasped as the terrible taste forced her to drag the bottle from her lips. She swallowed hard, as if she was having a hard time forcing the booze down, and gave her head a magnificent waggling shake. Her expression showed the full force of two sources of disgust: tequila, and his insinuation.

done.

[herotypical]

"His blood, Jack. He cut me open and he poured his blood into me. It was like some stupid horror movie ritual gone even wronger and...

I think I hate you."

Her voice had risen. At the very least, Horner's accusation forced her hand. It made her all too eager to spit out a truth she'd been gripping close and trying to hide.

done.

[originaljackass]

In fact, Jack's insinuation had been entirely different. He had, at that moment, been legitimately concerned that the General had forced himself onto her. There were certain lines even Jack wouldn't cross and that was one of them. But when he heard what she really had to say, he wasn't overly concerned with what she thought of him.

"So is that what's wrong? He gave you some mystical mojo transfusion?"

done.

[herotypical]

"It's one bullet on a very long list. But it's -- yeah, of course it's wrong. I wasn't anything but a puppet to him. For all I know, I still am. And it's...

I lied. I don't sleep well. I sleep awful. I've always had nightmares, but never like these..."

[originaljackass]

"... I've been there." He shook his head and ended up staring at the space between them. "Before that big battle, the one that ended it all? I spent every night with nightmares- premonitions of what was coming. Something I couldn't stop. It was like that for weeks. Months even."

His first night's sleep in Luceti had been amazing for so many reasons. Most New Feathers struggle to sleep on their first night. Jack slept like a baby, wings be damned.

"For what it's worth? That sucks."

[herotypical]

"Jack?" Her voice cracked, broke, and almost seemed to shatter. She'd been a woman walking a thin line for months, now. Almost a year. "Do you think -- uhm -- do you think that Nala might be able to tell? If I'm...if he...

Maybe you could tell me."

[originaljackass]

"If he's still in there?"

Jack had no idea. But Nala was all too willing to try, so he was as well.

[herotypical]

She nodded. He'd done such a good job with the hand, hadn't he? And this question had been burning straight through her for such a long time. There hadn't really been anyone else she could ask -- no one to whom she could risk exposing any additional weaknesses. But in this room, tonight, they were on an almost even footing.

And for one night, she could almost believe his concern was sincere.

"Yeah. Lurking or waiting or dormant or whatever it is strange men intend to do in the long-term if they try and swap blood. I've really only been a donor, before. Never a donee."

[originaljackass]

Jack had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but if he had one special ability, it was that he could look like he knew exactly what he was doing when he wasn't. So he prepared to do his first major con in Luceti since the time he robbed Nami blind.

"Let me try something." He emptied the distance between the two of them and then held out his hand, placing his palm along her cheek. The kind of position he might do if he was planning to guide her lips to his. But he didn't do that. Instead he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the off chance he actually had the ability he purported to.

[herotypical]

One last gulp of tequila. For courage, she told herself, even as all the earlier glugging was hitting her bloodstream -- as if alcohol alone could track down the old stains of the General's occupation and scrub them out. Her cheeks were warm and coloured from a cocktail of anger, fear, wonderment, and a light buzz. The prospect that this might be a con didn't touch her mind; after all, he'd been so honest and open about Gary.

After all, deep down, she wanted to trust him.

When his fingers touched her cheek, she lifted her chin and tried to sit tall. Proud. But her arms wrapped around the bottle and she tried not to sway. What she did do was whisper -- whole heartedly: "Good luck."

[originaljackass]

For the briefest moment, he smiled at her. Then he started.

Jack spent about five seconds trying to will his magic to find something in Buffy, but in that time he concluded there was nothing to find. Or at least, he had no way to do that. He felt nothing because it was a sense that he did not possess. The easy thing to do would be to report his findings. It's what the spirit thought he should do. Nala was not just nurturing, she was also honest.

But Jack would do no such thing. Instead, he poured out every last ounce of what he possessed to 'heal' Buffy. There was nothing to heal and it was wasted magic to close wounds that did not exist, to amplify healing that did not need to occur. It may not have accomplished anything, but it was cutting away deeply at Jack, draining him sorely and leaving him feeling in about the worst state he could imagine. That wasn't important. What was important was that Buffy felt something. He had to sell the con. Make it seem real.

When he was done, he nearly felt faint, but he kept himself upright. His brow was thick with sweat and he looked incredibly pale. Still, he pulled his hand away and with absolute confidence, he lied through his teeth.

"It's all you in there, Buffy. Nala is sure of it."

1/2

[herotypical]

Her shoulder shook with a slight shiver: an outward sign that she could sense the sudden rush of Nala in her system. Equal parts refreshingly cool and comfortingly warm. And as Jack poured power into her, she regretted what she'd said. Biting down on her bottom lip, Buffy refused to apologize and break this quiet moment. She could tell him later, she supposed, that she regretted telling him that his pain was a comfort to her. After all, wasn't this -- right here -- what real comfort felt like?

The Slayer's eyes slid shut and she breathed in deep. It was like a detox. Like spring cleaning. Like drawing the curtains on an old and musty room.

2/2

[herotypical]

She smiled so widely and completely that her nose wrinkled, too. Jack might not have found anything the matter with her, but all this influx of Filial healing did do one concrete thing. She found herself startlingly sober, as if every last drop of alcohol had been magically expunged.

"Really?" Hope was an unfamiliar thing that cracked and popped on her voice like ice freshly thawing. "What about you? Are you sure of it?"

She didn't dare open her eyes. Not yet.

[originaljackass]

Jack felt like absolute crap and while his own natural durability and healing was bound to kick in eventually, he was still finding it hard just to sit up. He really wanted to just lie down and sleep for a month. Maybe forever.

With a somewhat hoarse voice he answered. "Hey, me and Nala and I are on the same wave length. You're as clean as a whistle."

[herotypical]

...The quality of his voice finally registered. Her eyes snapped open, and she half-hopped forward to grab onto his arm. Wondering, for a moment, whether he needed steadying. On a good day, she barely liked to touch him -- let alone share his personal space. But right now? She was content to anchor one hand on his elbow.

She lowered the tequila bottle onto the floor, feeling as though she didn't so much need it. Not now.

"And you've looked better."

[originaljackass]

He slouched a bit, before finally giving in and letting himself fall back and immediately regretting lying on those oversized wings. He cringed, but it only felt as crappy as the rest of him did. So it was still sort of a win.

"It's impossible for me to look better," Jack protested lamely. "I'm Jack Horner."

[herotypical]

A quiet sound. A laugh that was more breath than voice, and her fingers gave his forearm a grateful squeeze. It was about as close a she dared to tread to saying thank you. Except, perhaps, for a quietly paid compliment: "Fine, have it your way. As post-mojo funks go, you wear yours very handsomely."

It was funny how a shallow piece of flattery could convey more gratitude than more sincere words. The grace, one supposed, was not in the words themselves but in how easily Buffy parted with them. And how glad she was to give in, just this once, to his grandstanding.

But what harm was there in feeding a little canary to the smug cat, hmm? Especially when he'd given her a gift of such magnitude. She was clean -- General-fee, generally -- and that returned a value to her life that she only now realized she had been missing. And for now, she would pretend that it wasn't only because of Nala's occupation.

"You want anything?"

[originaljackass]

Jack considered asking for what he would almost always want from this sort of situation. Passionate and wild sex. He very nearly did ask for it, save for not quite feeling up to the task. He couldn't enjoy it if he just had to lie there and let it happen to him.

And he figured Buffy would just get mad and storm off if he actually did ask.

So he settled for a more attainable goal.

"Aspirin? And donuts. Like... A dozen of them."