ORIGIN

One week after the initial flooding of the caves, and the appearance of the waxy-white "flowers" within, the flood at last began to recede. Though the storms and rains continue, the water levels drop at last. The strange objects uncovered by the waters are left lying about, and--aside from those already claimed by Gembound--begin to rot away into darkening putrescence, as if organic. Their effects on those yet to find them weaken, and only a very few remain intact and effective if found.

During this week, those gembound already affected by the objects will begin to feel strange symptoms. A low-grade fever will strike first, followed by strange weariness, a loss of hunger, perhaps slight weight loss. There is a distracted sense to their thoughts, and occasionally, a strange feeling of displacement or depersonalization, as if they aren't quite all there, not all themselves. Yet a pervasive sense of well-being accompanies them at all times, as if all is well, and all is as it should be. Sometimes, they will see slight things that aren't there--and each Gembound will experience one vague dream, or vision, and a certainty that it is real. They will feel that, somehow, this happened to them, at some point, but they can't quite put their finger on when, or how, or what fully happened. It will simply be as a memory. The drive to hoard their flowers, and to share this experience with others, remains--and even strengthens. It is a gift.

Each Gembound's Visions: (click to expand)

Opal Three-Seven-Six sees a glittering of silver scales, beneath the light dancing over the water. Hunger. A slap of a limb. It hits. Satisfaction, and the taste of fish.

Sergei will remember fleeing. Fire--a familiar smell. His lungs burned; his legs ached. The pound of his heartbeat, of hooves in the dirt as he ran. The smoke blinded him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The fire was coming.

Archimedes feels a warm touch, a gentle brush along his back. A kind voice, rumbling an echo through his memory. "I'm your da." So many of them, all around: family, warmth. Yet he knew nothing of any of this; there were so many questions he wished to ask, but did not know how to.

Zelk feels her magicka flaring up. The sight of a dark shadow sweeping in, from behind. She leaps aside, magic interrupted. The pain of talons nicks her back.

Pallas experiences darkness. Wet. The smell of urine and rot, and the quiet skittering of rats in the dark. Fear, coupled with an intense loneliness, and a feeling of being lost.

Yew sees, in her dream or vision, a large creature: a thick shell, a strange shape, and too many limbs. Loud voice, crashing body, but she seems pleasant enough. There is confusion at her foul tongue, and unfamiliarity with the words she chooses to use.

Lamia will see a large, brown bird, flashes of fiery color and harsh words. The harshness stilled, followed by discussion. Kindness, even. Mild sorrow--or disappointment. She can't help him.

Huckleberry is dangling mid-air, helplessly. Anger, fear. Pain. Tears leaking from his eyes. Pride lost, blood rushing to his head. Something impossibly large and savage hanging him there, demanding something of him. The ground coming back toward them--was he falling?

Adelaide feels panic. Awakening. Shattering stone, and a panicked, repeated cry of "MOTHER!" The battering of helpless wings. Caged, and enemies, all around, staring. Staring at her. Her words weren't working. Disjointed thoughts. Fear.

Artume sees a vast, looming shape. Icy cold, water, a calm voice in their mind, pale glowing eyes gazing down upon her. Words, unfamiliar to her; the sense of being, equally new. Learning, questions, and friendship.

This thread is continued from [Quest] AEON EWER - Pisces and [Quest] AEON EWER - Fornax. Though strongest in Pisces, the visions will be experienced wherever in the caves their dreamers may be. Responses to the visions and dreams should not be posted here, but in any separate threads (or not at all) that participants wish.

Gembound "infected" after the fact should tag or contact Game Master Dark or tag their post to GM reports to request a vision, which will likewise take place one week after their first contact with the "infection."

Likewise, any investigation (magical or otherwise) of the "flowers" should be directed to Game Master Dark for response.

Further-infected Gembound now include Labradorite Five-Four-Six, Desert Rose Thirty-Five, and Legion. One week after initial infection, these Gembound, like those above, will feel the increasing symptoms--and find themselves experiencing a strangely-vivid dream or vision.

These Gembound's Visions: (click to expand)

Labradorite Five-Four-Six will see a great white-furred shape looming, snarling. Blood--blood everywhere. Pain and panic and rage. Hunger. The slashing of claws, and a resonating, guttural roar.

Desert Rose Thirty-Five would see flowers: hundreds of flowers, all the colors of the rainbow, nestled in a dazzling spread of green. They had a new life; they were in a new place full of promise. But suspicion lurked. It was too good to be true--wasn't it?

Legion is confronted by a red-brown, spotted creature, hostile, hooved, horned. Angry words are spat, a glimmer of green at its neck. Disdain. A stone between them, warm red-pink. The vision fades.

A second set of dreams and visions--more vibrant, this time, and more clear--will strike afflicted Gembound a few days after the first. They feel like memories now, rather than foreign dreams--things that somehow happened, even though... they didn't.

Around the same time, the gembound will begin to experience a strange sensation: one that plagues each of them more and more strongly as the days go by. It feels as though there's someone else close by, at times, even though the cave nearby may be empty. As though someone else is looking through their eyes, or present in their mind to hear their thoughts, or sharing their perceptions. It's difficult to narrow down, however, and somehow, it isn't too disturbing. It almost feels... right.

Click Here for Each Gembound's Visions

Opal Three-Seven-Six feels pain, and hears screaming. The flutter of dozens of birds taking flight, their beating wings echoing through the trees. Pain, in his body; pain, in his heart. Unwanted. Rejected. Attacked. Howling in agony, mindless, as a black, furred shape tore into him. Grief, as it faded, as he fell back and away.

Sergei remembers dead trees, stark black against a sickly haze. His limbs--slender, golden--are sinking, and he wonders why he didn't just fly. Was it the exhaustion? The heat? He remembers that being problematic. No; he has to save his strength. There's a long way ahead. There's a lot of ground left to cover.

Archimedes remembers being... massive, enormous, full of muscle and brawn. Yet ahead there's something larger. He feels frustration. Injustice. It's enormous, white, impossibly large. Why am I fighting this? This wasn't fair. Yet... he didn't feel as though he were in danger. Slowly, gradually, as he struggled beneath its bulk, the memory faded.

Zelk remembers a black creature, grotesque, lying sprawled and bawling on the rock. She remembers her own composure, washing her face with small pink paws as she listens. As they talk. Calculated, calm. The creature continues its tantrum. There's no reason to stay, and so she departs. Perhaps she will return later.

Pallas feels a lash of electricity. The crackle of it into the water. The light all around brighter, flaring up--pride, amazement, shock. Laughter, dancing steps. An echoing voice, their own yet not, like a distant memory: "Did you see that?--... I did that!"

Adelaide remembers dashing through the trees. Forming a nest--branches, vines, a tuft of soft moss. The soft crack of splintering wood. A sense of diligence, determination. Resourcefulness, the use of prey, of sand, of water, for things one might not expect. Falling to sleep, a gut full and a sense of satisfaction.

Lamia remembers scrambling, slipping paws in the mud. A ball of light shooting ahead; she chased it on long and lanky limbs, on oversized paws. Squeaking, water, the scatter of a hundred tiny feet as they fled her approach. Eyes darting amongst her prey. Squealing, pouncing, squirming, grinning, the taste of blood and flesh. Satisfaction, but aching, cold and wet. Drifting off to sleep with the light their only, close company.

Huckleberry sees a large gathering, those present of all shapes and sizes. Large and small, red and brown and feathered and furred. No greenery present, no life visible bar the gathered, only tan rock and scattered bones and dust. Important talk. A feeling of belonging. Of binding.

Yew remembers blistering sand beneath her feet. The light is baking overhead, her throat parched. There's a fear of death; she's in mortal danger. But she's not alone--she's never alone. A glance behind shows a shadow on the sand, and she knows that she's being watched over, from above. As she turns to look upward, the memory fades away.

Artume feels panic; the feeling of needing to vomit. Churning, rushing water, all around. Dizziness. Aching. The sharp pain of pointed rocks in the ground scraping their body as it is hurtled along with an impossible current. Desperation, to find shelter.

Legion remembers stepping into a glade: awe, beauty. A sense of coming home. Plants everywhere, flashes of color, the most beautiful place they knew. Joy, and pride; turning to show their new friend. A pale brown coat, soft eyes, the gentle crunch of hooves on moss. A fading voice: "Once I'm done it will be beautiful..."

Desert Rose Thirty-Five imagines that a creature loomed: black, writhing, oily flesh and a barrage of large words in their mind. Glistening red eye, staring down at him. But there was little fear--there was excitement, some confusion. The word "fish" echoed in their mind, along with the rest of the words. They were certain that this thing was a fish--but it did not look like a fish. But it was a fish... The certainty of this thing being a fish, and the knowledge that it was not, slowly shattered the vision away, awakening them from it. Strange words echoed as it did, large words, in his head: "Some things cannot hold their breath."

Labradorite Five-Four-Six remembers a gentle shape--golden, soft, big. Large liquid eyes, and a soft muzzle, a softer voice. Kindness. "Hey there, little one. You doin' all right?" A sense of well-being. "Are ya hungry?" A spark of recognition. Hunger welling up--a hunger that would never really leave.