duologs | ( semi-open ) catchall

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[ the walls shake and furniture rattles when the doors to the bedchamber slam shut, muffling the vicious barks and the sound of nails scraping over tiled floors. those sounds were once close enough to grate on alhaitham's ears, almost tickling his throat. now, he's holding the door closed as roland secures the locks, feeling the hounds shove and tear fruitlessly into the wood and metal behind his back.

out of breath, alhaitham lowers himself to sit on the floor. he props his elbows on his knees, grasps at one of his wrists, and ducks his head as he grounds himself again. there were supposed haunts all around them, but those dogs are as real as he and roland are.

supposedly. he's still turning the situation over in his mind, trying to find possibilities. how were they suddenly logged into the game? are their "other selves" still somewhere in the park? what's happening to this park in the first place?

after a moment, alhaitham opens his eyes and tilts his head to look at roland beside him. he skims over his clothes, looking for traces of injuries. ]

You all right?

[At the very least, Roland is no stranger to adrenaline. The second the door slams behind them, he turns around to work the bolts while Alhaitham handles the arduous task of fending off the shadow hounds' collective weight against the ornate panels. His hands jerk from every paralyzing bark, but he successfully locks the door before long.

He backs away, panting for breath, as he watches the door. The hounds' barks and assault eventually die down, leaving the two of them alone. Roland's gaze drifts to the gaudy interior of the bedroom in which they've sequestered themselves before snapping back to Alhaitham at the query.

Gone are the dress shirt and slacks, replaced instead by his usual habit and hooded robe in the ON world. Considering what happened with the serpent last month, Roland isn't terribly shocked, though plenty concerned by recent developments.]

I'm fine. How are you faring?

[ alhaitham hears it through the blood pounding in his ears: the creatures finally relenting, lowering their hackles and whining at the back of their throats. as they plod away from the door and back through the corridor, alhaitham fully registers the throbbing pain in his right leg, which his hands instinctively cover to cut off blood flow. wet warmth has already seeped into his pants, and it quickly paints over his fingers and clothes. he hisses as the wound stings down to the bone.

it's a bite. one of the hounds launched at him during the initial surprise assault; he had thrown it off immediately, but those sharpened canines already punctured through his skin. it was by the hound's own mercy that it didn't cling onto him. alhaitham has been bitten by feral animals before—he hadn't always been proficient in swordsmanship, and sometimes your scholarly pursuits will cross you into a pack of rishboland tigers—but there's something strange in this bite. it shivers through his blood, cold as ice as it disperses through his flesh. ]

One of the hounds managed to sink its teeth into my leg. I could be better.

[It's a bite, and an ugly one at that. Judging from the way Alhaitham tends to it, to say nothing of how much and quickly red paints his hand, Roland supposes that it must be deep enough to warrant an intervention. When did it happen?

Blood doesn't frighten him. He steps over to kneel beside Alhaitham. Should there be no objections, he'll conjure the soothing flame of cauterize.]

I am a Mender. Allow me to treat it.

[ aside from a rapid glance in roland's direction, alhaitham doesn't flinch as he approaches, his focus anchored on the sensations in his leg. wounds like this aren't supposed to grow cold, where blood will rush to meet the opening and clot over broken skin. still, the iciness continues to spread throughout his body, sapping warmth from his toes and fingertips, the tip of his nose. he inhales shakily, and then his eyes go wide as roland summons a flame over his bite.

alhaitham has seen healers in the guild's hub before, but not one with a flame like this. faint warmth erupts where it makes contact, and alhaitham hisses lightly through his teeth as his fingers curl into the flesh of his thigh. a small patch of the fabric was torn away from the assault, and through the shaking flame on his skin, alhaitham can see the blood begin to congeal.

but that cold sensation hasn't stopped. it floods up his stomach and shivers up the back of his neck. alhaitham's hand catches the sleeve of roland's robe as he looks up at him with effort. his skin is already starting to blanch. ]

There was something in that dog's bite. Maybe a poison of some kind.

[The flame almost blows out at the hiss before snuffing out altogether when his sleeve is grabbed. Roland looks up with no small amount of shock, slack-jawed by such a sharp reaction from Alhaitham.

He is far from a healer of skill, much less talent, but he's never seen a response like this before. The spell isn't supposed to hurt. There's a flicker of panic that he did something wrong before he focuses on the wound again.]

I have chocolate. [The kind that heals status ailments. He pulls his inventory open and scrolls through it.] How do you feel?

[ when roland pulls back to search through his things, alhaitham's hand drops slack onto the ground beside him. he swallows and steadies his voice. ]

Freezing. It's acting quickly.

[ there's no opportunity for alhaitham to correct course. the sting has largely subsided save for the last bit that roland pulled away from. the "poison," however, is quick and oppressive, lancing through his limbs and organs. it makes his skin grow clammy, his lips and fingertips taking on a light shade of blue, and his veins stand green and purple around his gloves. this isn't like being frozen in layers of hydro, or walking through a cloud of snowflakes. it grows from within.

his stomach, once sitting like an icy stone in his body, begins to tighten and slowly twist into knots. alhaitham wraps his arm around his middle to stifle it, all muscles attempting to resist the pain, but the churn is beginning to feel familiar. his eyes squeeze shut as the cold pierces his cheekbones, running down to his teeth. he forces himself to focus on his arm—anything to keep him grounded.

a brief flicker of thought: is he going to die this way? is this anything like what kaveh felt when he was killed? ]

[It isn't even for a minute that he looks away, yet he turns back to find Alhaitham pale and blue. Roland all but throws himself back at Alhaitham's side with a piece of chocolate outstretched on an open palm.]

Take this. It will heal you if you're suffering from a status effect.

[His words are rushed, but calm lest he worsen their predicament with fear. The back of his other hand comes up to rest against Alhaitham's forehead, if the latter allows it, in order to check his temperature.]

I can conjure some fire for warmth. Will that be all right?

[ alhaitham is losing strength. his palpitating heart is slowing, the blood in his body following suit. still, he's conscious as roland drops beside him, takes his temperature, and offers up the chocolate. (alhaitham wouldn't have the strength to move or reject roland's help even if he wanted to.) beneath his bangs, alhaitham's forehead is wet and cold as melted ice.

chocolate sounds absolutely unappetizing right now. when he breathes in, a faint scent streams into his nose, brushing the throat—metal, iron, salt. it's above him, somewhere near his hair or on roland's hand. what is that? he lifts his nose slightly to chase it—but he makes no other move than that. he has to eat that chocolate. he doesn't know what might happen if he doesn't.

he pinches the chocolate between two fingers and brings it to his mouth. then he nods. ]

Do it. Whatever helps.

[ and, after a pause, he downs the chocolate in a few short bites and swallows it like a pill. it sticks in his throat before working towards his stomach, like he'd just eaten pieces of wax. there are no immediate effects except for his stomach tightening, which he responds to by gripping over his stomach.

he's hungry. he looks up at roland, and the words tumble out before he can fully scrutinize them. ]

Is there anything else? Something that I can eat. Not medicine.

[Hopefully something helps.

Alhaitham is shockingly cold and damp. It takes some amount of self-control not to jerk away at first contact. Roland lingers for another second before he pulls back with a nod. He gathers his hands between them to work up a spell for heat when Alhaitham all but doubles over, and the embers die out as soon as they've begun to form.

He searches his inventory again with renewed urgency, only to come up short, and meets Alhaitham's gaze with a worried crease in his brow.]

There isn't.

[ instinct had already given him the answer before roland taps at his watch. neither of them have any food. with the game down for maintenance, there was no time for alhaitham to replenish whatever stock of food he normally kept with him. he already knows that his inventory is mostly empty too, save for things he can't or shouldn't eat.

there's nothing except for that iron scent on roland's hand. it made his senses sharpen, his tongue sting and water behind his teeth. alhaitham's stomach twists, and he digs his fingertips into his gut to stave it off. ]

Give me your hand. I need to see something.

[ alhaitham had been staring at it without thinking. he offers up his own to take roland's, ignoring the part of him that wants to snatch his wrist. ]

Edited 2023-08-08 01:50 (UTC)

[Food doesn't appear to be an option, in which he's more than ready to go back to the spell he was winding up when he sees Alhaitham's hand. Roland pauses, then deposits his own, sporting a small cut on the side that he's yet to notice, in it.

It's still cold and clammy—disturbingly so.]

What is it?

[ a good thing, too, since alhaitham might have pulled a rufus and got his hand melted off if that spell was cast.... vampires do not like fire.

alhaitham doesn't answer. he lowers his hand to roland's wrist, presses his thumb in the center of his palm, and raises roland's hand to his face.

the scent hits him immediately. his eyes open wide, inspecting until he finds the cut, shiny with pearls of vermillion blood. alhaitham's mouth opens without realizing it, revealing canines that have sharpened to points. his breathing is quick—

so that's what it is. if roland doesn't pull away first, alhaitham will shut his mouth tightly, swallow hard, and draw roland's hand away from him with effort. ]

[Roland could have been the devil to Alhaitham's hand, alas.

Roland's eyes widen at the sight of the canines, but Alhaitham is quicker to react by pushing his hand away.]

What in the—

[His eyes flit to his hand, finally noticing the dotted streak of red running along the side of it. It lowers down to his flank out of Alhaitham's line of sight, though the efficacy of doing so remains dubious.]

Your teeth . . .

[ when alhaitham opens his eyes, his gaze instinctively falls to roland's arm, down to where it disappears behind his hip. good. that scent is still strong, touching the back of his throat, but it's slightly better with that cut away from his sight.

roland's words slowly register then, and alhaitham looks back at him with a furrowed brow. teeth? his tongue over the front row of his teeth—and nearly cuts it on something. slowly, he reaches and touches it with the tip of his finger.

that's his own tooth, pricking at his skin. the other canine does the same. alhaitham stares at his lap, mind and stomach churning at once. his hand twists a little more over his stomach. ]

Leave me here. [ he looks at roland sharply. ] Don't waste time. You should investigate this room and find out how to move forward.

[Something has changed, and probably not for the better. Still, Roland shakes his head. His shoulders are tensed, but he makes no move to retreat from Alhaitham or the chamber. Alhaitham is suffering enough; there's no sense in pulling back as if he's been burned.]

These dungeons require a party to complete. If either of us is to move forward, we must do so with each other.

Yet we have barely any understanding of what I've been poisoned with. The dungeon may be left incomplete regardless.

[ who would leave the other behind? can you even exit this dungeon? he doesn't say. ]

One of us should investigate here and look for an antidote. Each dungeon should include remedies for unique status effects.

[ he's read the faq and strategy guides! but the antidote is something that he wouldn't guess. his eyes briefly flicker down again to where roland's hand would be. ]

Keep away from me in the meantime.

Edited 2023-08-08 12:51 (UTC)

. . . Very well.

[Dawdling here won't help either of them. Alhaitham's logic is true. Roland straightens, keeping his cut hand concealed behind the folds of his tattered robe. He takes a handful of steps back before turning around to examine the bedroom interior.

It's gaudy. Rubies and bones hardly make for a welcoming combination, but a gloominess that seems to dim the chamber. Consequently, Roland's eyes are drawn to the mirrors that adorn the opposite wall, and he makes for them when a strange voice whispers into his ears.

He whips around. The only other person here is Alhaitham, who needs care sooner than later.]

Did you hear that?

[ while roland inspects the room, alhaitham instinctively watches the movement of his arm and shoulder beneath the robe. the scent isn't as sharp and acrid anymore, but hunger still claws into his stomach and dries out his mouth. it doesn't matter where the blood comes from; logically or otherwise, it's the only thing that'll satisfy the inescapable craving and warm him from the inside.

then the mirrors. alhaitham starts a little when roland turns around, and then he furrows his brow. the hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle. ]

I didn't.

[Roland turns back to the mirrors with a pinched brow. Either it was a matter of proximity or something is targeting him. Whichever the case, he approaches the emerald-studded mirror to the left.

His breath catches when he peers inside to a petite silhouette; it starts at his stare and reaches out with a whispery promise, treacherously arresting his thoughts. His hand twitches in response, and the brush of it against the fabric of his robe snaps him back to reality. Roland tears his gaze away and steps back, then all but retreats to give the chamber a once-over, swiftly passing the rightmost mirror on his way.

For a room so ornate, there's nothing. His lips press thin and he returns to Alhaitham, taking care to leave a gap between them in case of . . . well.]

I see no remedy—only what appears to be a portal.

[ alhaitham doesn't remember falling down into the mansion's foyer. he remembers stepping in through the doors as they creaked open (alone), his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit innards of the room. then a sharp, disorienting numbness flashed through his limbs, threads of color and static in front of his eyes, and sudden darkness.

now, as he slowly opens his eyes, he realizes that he's fallen over onto his knees, gripping the rug beneath him for purchase as he reorients himself. pain throbs through his legs and the heels of his hands from the impact. still, the strangeness from earlier seems completely gone for now, and after a moment, he registers what else has happened.

slowly, he pushes himself to stand and inspects his clothes. he's been logged in—by what or whom or how, he can't say. was he knocked out? drugged? is his "waking" self somewhere else? his mind churns out theories until his gaze snaps to the stranger beside him. there was no one else with him when he entered the mansion, and he doesn't recognize whoever this is at all.

his fingers fan out at his side, prepared to summon foliar incision at a moment's notice. ]

Who are you?

[ A haunted house, they call it. This attraction seems to be the part of "Baelial World" that most everyone wants to experience. If it were little more than a means of artificially scaring oneself, Knives wouldn't have bothered, but hearing that the manor is actually a part of Crane City's history, a still-standing relic of sorts, is enough to seize his interest.

Perhaps he can learn more about Crane City by looking around the manor. He has hardly accepted his fate in being trapped in this world, and seeing how his ability to log into Duocaeli has been so hampered, he may as well make use of his time.

However, just as soon as he has that thought while walking through the ornate double doors, he's made to eat his words. The "logging in" process is jarring, sending him off-balance as a virtual world builds up around him. He manages to catch himself against a wooden table.

It's not so different from the month before, when they'd entered the beach from Crane City but had in fact been logged in. The boundaries between worlds seems to be thinning for some reason.

But he isn't alone. When the man coldly addresses him, Knives turns toward him, his gaze sweeping over him before he answers in kind. ]

Millions Knives. [ His eyes narrow. ] Who are you?

( semi-open ) catchall

▸ july 2023 event

jae's (closes eyes) cove penetration aka chamber 2

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yes :)

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book club goes to belial's bedroom

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