Wolf Play : In the Shadow of Our Ancestors || Roleplay

Xander thought, for a moment, that he’d just leave whenever the flow of the crowd allowed him. He wanted to rush back home as quickly as possible, forget he’d ever been out here and just go back to bed. It didn’t take long before he realized that that chance would never come, though -- the crowd rushed before him, a moving mass with barely any space between any given two bodies as people rushed to get into their places for a better view of the largest screen in the city. It would probably be comparable to a raging torrent, or an opened dam, or whatever comparisons a person could think of when mild annoyance wasn’t scratching away all of their brain power. Alas, his state did not allow for much except for quiet fuming as Xander attempted to blend into his surroundings and warm up a little so he could wait out the next half hour so people could fuck off and clear out.

It took a few minutes of staring into a crowd out of a cold, dark alleyway like an idiot before anything changed. His gaze flickered back up to the screens as he spotted movement in his peripheral vision -- ah, fuck, finally, something was happening. Evidently, the time had crawled a little closer to the main event -- up there was Emery (no, no -- the future King), waving and smiling to the booming cheers of the crowd that threatened to blow Xander’s eardrums out as the camera zoomed unnecessarily close to their face.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, pausing in his jostling around for warmth in order to watch with furrowed brows as the future King came up to the microphone, settling over the mic and sending an instant hush over the crowd. Even the people in the city had, miraculously, shut up.

And then they preceded to work the crowd.

Basic crowd working skills were pretty damn difficult to master. Xander certainly couldn’t do it -- his work was mostly pre-recorded stuff, and he never could garner up enough enthusiasm in order to get people excited. It was impressive to him, then, how the soon-to-be King managed to garner so much genuine energy to hype up the crowd. The people at the Hall certainly seemed enthusiastic, at least, which was to be expected -- the only people who would manage to get in there are the super-rich and obsessive fans. The people at the festival were different, though, since a lot more people were there just to have fun and to see a once-in-a-lifetime deal rather than to celebrate the King themself -- still, even they seemed to be energized by the speech, not talking over them and watching the screen intently with bated breath. He could feel the energy in the room, and that, in itself, was impressive. He and Emery had gone down similar paths, in the end, but they were probably more suited for theirs.

(note: things are going to get a little bit god-mod-y here, but just let it happen. i’ll get in trouble, you won’t. needs to happen for the plot so just trust me bro)

With the bow that marked the end of the speech, the almost-King turned and began the walk over to the altar. It, really, wasn’t something that should have been as suspenseful as it was -- it was only ten, twenty feet at most, and yet cameras flashed and showed the trek from every possible angle as they made their merry way over to the area where their life would change.

The altar itself was a beautiful thing. It was a small, incredibly ornate pillar on which rested the crown the first King had donned and afterward every King to follow, decorated with gold and jewels and made to rest comfortably on plush velvet. Before it were several snow-covered arches that the king was made to walk under, the light reflecting off the snow and onto their outfit as they slowly came to rest before the crown.

He swore it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, then -- there wasn’t a single sound save the rustling of the King’s robes as they knelt, bowing their head and resting their hands in their lap, murmuring;

“Bestow what you will upon me, O Kings of the past; grant me the power of the King of the future.”

Silence. The crowds across the country held their breath and waited.

...

And they waited,

And they waited.

It took a minute before restlessness turned to unease. The crowd began to murmur, shifting as they tried to figure out if this was supposed to happen. Had they been scammed? Were the previous stories of a spirit coming down to crown the King been a lie?

Suddenly, the camera moved, positioning itself to movement that’d begun stirring in the sky, and the crowd shut up again. Finally, the spirit was here. It was a minute or two late, but it was here --

... or, two were.

Or three. Or four.

... Hm.

Within the sky, faint wisps of color were stirring, bringing relief to the masses as they eagerly awaited the proper ceremony. Those faint wisps soon split into four, which, in itself, was a matter of concern -- concern that turned to horror when the wisps began to form the shape of humans. Not one, but four. Even the claim of humanity became unclear when wings burst forth from the form of one and an inhumanly gaunt figure formed from another, and yet one thing was clear -- none of these beings, as they may be, were the first King.

Four pairs of feet lighted on the ground. Of the four, none were particularly normal-looking. One, standing the most to the left, was a rather short man with long, black hair, fingers clasped together in a fidgeting motion as startlingly red eyes flickered about the crowd, bringing to attention the strange shape of his left pupil -- an hourglass, which seemed fitting to the rest of his getup. He wore green, fancy attire with gold decorating the rim and vest; to one gold chain, in particular, was attached a stopwatch, though it seemed to have been long broken, its hands hanging limply to shake at every movement. The man either didn’t notice or didn’t care, still taking it after a few moments of being on the ground to stare at it with a furrowed brow.

Beside him was a tall, inhumanly gaunt woman with high cheekbones and long lashes. Her hair covered most of her face, falling straight across her back and nose; her eyes, however, were in full display from where they were trained in a gawking stare on the sky, so dark a black that no light could save it from its blank expanse. She wore all-black as though she were at a funeral, her long skirts flowing about her legs to drag on the floor.

On the far right was a seemingly middle-aged man with a thick, black goatee and unnaturally dazzling eyes of seemingly every color. His hair was close-shaven and his teeth-showing grin was almost as dazzling as his eyes, though that had absolutely nothing on his outfit. The man was dressed like a crow’s nest, covered in shinies and colors; it was difficult to look at with how bright it all was and how hard everything clashed, considering he seemed to have stitched together just about everything he found pretty and called it fashion. Perhaps there was a bit of charm to it, to some; to most, though, it was just an eyesore.

Xander, however, was more focused on the person next to her.

Tall. White hair. Blue eyes. Wings. Dragon wings.

She was taller than all the rest of the arrivals with long, white hair that she’d put up in a ponytail. Small braids crossed from behind her ear to meet the area she’d put her hair up. Horns rose from her head, pulling back most of her bangs to reveal her piercing blue eyes. She wore armored clothes, though the armor pulled back in the areas where white scales and spikes poked through, custom-tailored to not get torn apart by her draconic features.

It was only then that Xander figured out what was happening.

The Dragon Lord.

She should be dead. She should be dead.

“Is this a prank?” Someone in front of him muttered, and Xander found himself shaking his head, even though they certainly couldn’t see him. No, no, it couldn’t be a prank, it couldn’t be, why were her horns, her hair, white? Why were her eyes blue? Why did she look just like him, why did she have the traits he was meant to inherit? He’d heard about the tales of the draconic god, the only person he could’ve possibly gotten these traits, and his suspicion was only growing by the moment as the woman’s lips parted to speak and showed the flash of fangs underneath.

“How disappointing.” The camera was shaky, so he couldn’t get a good view of the woman’s expression on the screen, though he could probably guess it was one filled with spite. Her voice, as clear as it was through the speakers set up along the city, certainly seemed to suggest it. “Two millennia and this is all our dear friend could come up with?”

“What ugly architecture,” The rainbow-eyed man commented, prodding at one of the arches with an unimpressed look on his face.

The woman did not look at him. “Your taste in architecture is worse, dear.”

“Pfffff.”

The other woman didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation, her gaze still fixed upon the sky. Her lips were moving, too quiet to hear from the cameraman’s distance; it became clearer when she repeated the movement, steadily growing louder, that what she was saying was “spirits”.

“Spirits,” She suddenly interjected at full speaking volume after the white and black-haired gods’ conversations were finished. “I can’t see the spirits. The air is too thick. Oh, friends,” She cried, clasping her hands together, “what have they done to the sky?”

The man with the stopwatch patted her on the shoulder, partially reassuringly and partially out of urgency. “I hope you recall we don’t have much time today?” He half-said, half-murmured to her. “Say your piece and leave, friend; you may deal with the spirits afterward.”

She seemed to steel up a bit from this, her gaze finally falling from the sky in order to flicker about her surroundings before eventually falling upon Emery.

“You,” She said, taking a step forward. “You must be the current era’s King.”

She took a few more steps forward. At this, the security in the area seemed to recover from their shock and come to life, rushing towards the scene --

The winged woman nonchalantly waved a hand, causing earth to rise out of its place and wall off the area. The camera shook violently and dropped to the floor, coming to lie on its side (though it seemed to have not been walled off, allowing onlookers to still view the scene); this left Emery, the gods and the one or two cameras that weren’t blocked, able to record the moment that the gaunt woman stood before the young King to place her hand on their shoulders.

“You banish me,” She spoke coldly, “and then you neglect your spirits? Neglect your skies, the places that harbor life? What a pitiful world you’ve left for your living. Perhaps it’d be better fit for the dead.”

Her grip on their shoulders tightened, and she leaned forward, eyes dark enough to consume their very being.

“I hope that you’re left with no living to govern.”

She shoved them back, then, done with speaking to them. They were caught by the man with the multicolored eyes, who held onto them to steady them as he looked past at the altar through a half-lidded stare.

“Such a boring place,” He drawled. “All white and smooth edges. No color, no detail, no jagged edges or blocks or anything interesting. Really, what have you done with this place, old friend? You’ve made a place filled with color and shape so simple and smooth.”

He leaned forward, placing his head on Emery’s shoulder so that they’d be able to see him.

“I hope your land falls to nothing but chaos.”

He pulled away, shoving them toward the other man in the group, who pulled them to their feet and steadied them. When he was sure they were perfectly fine, he gave them an empathetic and sad look.

“What a terrible fate you’ve led your kingdom to,” He eventually spoke. “I wonder if this really was the best option.”

He said nothing more, letting go of them and stepping back to let the final god step into view, standing in front of Emery and looking down at them with an odd, unreadable expression on her face.

“We’ll be going, now.” She told them. “Prepare your kingdom for what’s to come. It’s your legacy, isn’t it? Weren’t you meant to be sworn into protecting it today? I’m sure that you want to keep it from harm. It’s two millennia worth of your ancestor’s legacy, the result of hard work and blood, sweat, and tears.”

She crouched down, making sure the two were eye-level. “Try to protect it. I’m sure you’ll try your best.”

She smiled.

“It’s only then that we’ll get to see the face of the King as all he wished to protect crumbles underneath his gaze.”

In the next moment, she was gone.

The earth blocking some of the screens' view had fallen back into its initial place, allowing onlookers to see the stunned faces of the security as they checked the King and area for damage. They found nothing -- everything was untouched, seeming almost as though the gods had never arrived if not for the forming bruises on the King’s shoulders where the Reaper had held them.

... That was, at least, in the Grand Hall.

Xander’s eyes moved a few centimetres upward from the screen, focusing on the stern face that’d suddenly materialized a foot before him.

Ah.

“Alexander.” She lighted down on the floor, her wings flapping once in order to gather her balance. Her voice sounded deeper, more stern, when she was directly in front of him than when she was up on the screen. Xander felt like he was about to die.

“Did you really have to go down this path?” Her tone was that of a disappointed mother as she stepped towards him. He stepped back. “A social media influencer. Really,” she shook her head once, “the scales aren’t for show.”

She stopped, letting out a long sigh. “But it’s fine, I suppose. You’ve done what you’ve done. There’s no going back.”

There was a brief pause as she thought to herself, looking down at Xander. After a moment, her hand reached out, brushing the hair out of his face, scaring the absolute shit out of him. She didn’t seem to notice that, though.

“I’ve done something I can’t go back on, too.” She told him. Her voice was strangely soft. “I’m sure you’ve already seen it. The technology these days is something I’ve never seen before, but I’m sure you already know.” She sighed again. “I don’t want innocents to get caught up in this. The others do, but -- really, really, all I want to see is the King falling. He betrayed us and destroyed our legacy, so the least we can do is return the favor, don’t you agree?” She paused for a moment, almost as if to let him speak.

He didn’t.

She went on before he could, anyway (which led him to believe she never meant for him to respond), saying “The world will soon fall apart. I’m sure you’ll have your own hand in it. I must request of you, however, that you refrain from harming innocents. Please, make sure no one other than those who deserve it get caught up in this. The others will be careless, but I cannot accept the same from you.”

She stepped forward again, placing both her hands on Xander’s shoulders as he gawked up at her. “Protect the world. If you can’t do that, then find whatever it is you wish to protect and defend that with your life. I’ve entrusted my legacy to you. Prove that you deserve it.”

There was a flash of blue eyes, and then she was gone.

Xander stared at the space where she was standing, and was briefly cognisant of the crowd that’d formed around the alleyway before he promptly fainted.

The Timekeeper appeared above a crowd.

He materialized a bit above where his descendant was, drawing many terrified and confused stares alike as he scanned the crowd with a furrowed brow and a bitten lip.

“Ah -- Monika,” He eventually said, seemingly delighted as he lighted down on the ground, the crowd, luckily for him, having the common sense to clear the area so that he had a 10 foot radius to stand on as he stood face-to-face with his descendant.

He briefly glanced at the crowd. “I was hoping we could meet with a little bit fewer people around,” he commented before looking back to his descendant’s face, “but there’s not much to do about that, I suppose. I’ve not much time.”

He then, unceremoniously, began his monologue.

“Life was better, once. I had my allies, everyone else had theirs -- it was happy for all of us, for me. It was better, then. I’m sure you have the ability to return it to how it was.” He reached out a hand, pressing his palm to her cheek and forcibly activating her first ability.

He kept his hand there for a few moments, long enough for her to see the history of the gods and their bonds, before he eventually pulled away, eyes sparkling. “Do you see? We were happy before, and far more powerful than we were now. The others wish for revenge, but I care not. I’d rather have things return to how it was, that we all get to see our descendants flourish with the bonds that’d allow them to grow to their best potential. Doesn’t that sound lovely, Monika?”

He stepped away, clasping his hands together and beginning to fidget once more. He seemed about ready to leave, but he paused, a sheepish expression coming over his face.

“Ah, but I do have one more request.” His eyes seemed to come unfocused, staring right past Monika as if imagining something. “I had a library, once.”

He gestured, vaguely, in the air, as if trying to form something with his hands. “It was big and filled with information. Just about everything I could find out about the world, about history. Scientific things, recollection of adventures, speciation on characters, all of that; all things from my time and long, long before it. I lived a long time and recorded a lot of things. It should all be there.”

His hands fell, then, as his gaze lowered from the sky to the ground. “I’m afraid I don’t remember where this library is. I made it two millennia ago, so perhaps it’s in ruins, buried in the ground. I could not tell you. My life’s work.”

He stopped talking for a moment before looking back up to Monika’s face. “But now you’re here!” He cried. “Perhaps you could recreate it, fill in the information I’ve missed; perhaps you can even uncover it and add to it!” He smiled, clapping his hands together, before he lowered his voice for his next statement. “There’s some information there -- dangerous, dangerous. Speculations about my, our, demise or whatnot. I hesitate to ask you to burn those, but perhaps you can hide them away before anyone else comes to find them? Just look for it, if you could. I’d appreciate it.”

He sighed before glancing up at the sky. “Ah, ah, no time, no time -- I’ve better go, dear. A word of advice; when I’m gone, you’ll have an ability -- see the paths of the future and all that. You’ll see. Try using it to escape this crowd, mm? Go somewhere where you’ll be alone. Better off that way, believe me.”

He pat Monika on the shoulder with a brief “good luck”, and as fast as he’d come, he was gone.

The Unicorn King appeared, rather unfortunately, in the cramped confines of a truck.

“Coming through, coming through, god on the loose,” He called, shoving aside some poor shmuck as he landed feet-first in the truck with a loud “thunk” and made his way over to Petyr.

“Mind accompanying me a minute, kid?” He asked, grabbing onto his descendant’s arm -- not that he’d give him a chance to answer, no; he was more intent on leading him out of the truck as quickly as possible, flicking a hand in order to seal off the others at the scene with a bending of metal as soon as they hit the ground outside of it.

“Don’t worry, they’re safe in there. I’ll let them out in a minute. Or you could do it yourself, your choice,” He told him, patting him on the shoulder on what he hoped to be at least a mildly reassuring gesture. “Just listen, alright? I’ll make it quick.”

He pat Petyr on the back once more before he started his story. “So, you saw that whole scene, right? Doesn’t matter if you didn’t, it makes no difference to me. Either way, things are going to go to shit in a little bit. You’re going to help me, alright?”

He stepped back from Petyr, making some grand, vague gestures with his hands as he continued on, saying, “Now’s your chance to really start some shit. I’m talking do whatever you want. Really, whatever you want. We’re starting the apocalypse, here -- there are no consequences whatsoever. Think of it like The Purge. You’re going to get an ability in a bit, too, that’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want with anything -- make some booze, make some really fucked up statues, whatever. You probably won’t be able to bend reality as you know it quite yet, but if you’re really creative, you can probably bend a few minds. All I ask of you is that you make the chaos worse.”

“Shape the world into whatever you want it to be. Burn it all down and rebuild it anew. Unfiltered destruction and unfiltered creation, both at your fingertips -- all you’ve got to do is grab it. That’s all I ask.” He leaned in, offering him a smug grin. “Doesn’t it sound great?”

He leaned back, then, throwing up both his hands in a lazy “whatever” motion. “That’s all, that’s all. I said I’d be brief, so I’ll get off your dick, now. You’ll get that ability I talked about in a moment, so why don’t you try using it to unseal off your brothers?”

He pointed with his chin towards the truck before looking back to Petyr and giving him a grin and double thumbs up. “It’ll all start in a moment. I’ll show you how it’s done, and then it’s your turn.”

And then he was gone.

The Reaper stepped towards the bed her descendant was nestled in, letting out a soft hum as she came to rest beside him.

“Michael?”

She sat down beside him on the bed, staring down at him. Ah, she thought, she must have been a scary sight, suddenly appearing in his home -- but it was alright, it was alright. She had to do what she had to do.

“I hesitate to wake you from your slumber, but I’m afraid I must ask you to rise once more.” She shifted, slightly, then, so that her descendant may be able to see her better. “Do you recognize me?”

She gave him a moment before she shook her head. “Nevermind, nevermind. It matters little, in the grand scheme of things. I’m far beyond this world, now, and you are not.”

She smiled, then, giddily, as she kicked out a leg and fell back on the bed, letting her hair fan out against the sheets as she smiled up at Michael. “Isn’t it lovely? The beyond, I mean. I hope that you love it as much as I do. Even if you don’t, hopefully, you’ll come to the same sort of love.”

As she spoke, she stretched out an arm up, up, reaching out towards the sky. “This land has ruined their chances, I’ve seen it coming for a long time -- but the dead, they stay strong, they stay free. They’ve no need for the material things that have led your kind to filthy this earth. They’re dead, you know?”

Her hand paused in the air for a moment, pulling it back sheepishly as she sat up on the bed.

“But that’s enough of the ramblings of an old soul, I suppose.” She said, gaze coming back to meet that of her descendant’s. Her descendant’s.

“My, my, you must be lost,” She mused, straightening for a moment before allowing her arms to fall lax, leaning forward to let her hair fall over her lap as she smiled at him. “But, really, you don’t need to know much. It’s simple. Soon, my descendant, I’ll give you a lovely ability to commune with the dead so that you may be able to guide them in their journey to this world. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Her smile grew a bit wider, then, as she leaned closer toward Michael with a sparkle in her eyes that seemed to transform the darkness of her gaze into something else entirely.

“Soon, soon, I’ll be merging the two worlds, the beyond and the current land. It’ll be a bit chaotic in the beginning, yes, but in the end, I do believe you’ll come to see it’s better for everyone involved! I’m sure that you can help make it a little bit less chaotic, dear; your abilities will certainly help. Help me let the neglected souls of the lost roam free.”

Her smile formed into a grin.

“I’ll start for the both of us.”

And in a moment, she was gone.

And then the land split, spirits groaned, and chaos began to sew itself into the earth all at once.

In the Shadow of Our Ancestors || Roleplay

July 1, 2022 07:46 PM

Determined_Wolf

Lightbringer

Posts: 24928
#2783534
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Emery | Non-Binary | King’s Descendant | M: Xander + Monika

Emery’s soft brownish red eyes scanned across the crowd briefly after they bowed, as if looking for someone, making sure the microphone was as far from their mouth as possible as they whispered something softly under their breath with teary eyes and white knuckles holding onto the microphone. Emery spun on their heels, allowing the ceremonial clothes to twirl like half a pirouette from a graceful ballerina. Taking nervous strides forward, an uncertain yet relieved smile crossed their face.

After this point, there would be no more senseless training, no more stupid rules, and no more pressure from the temperary king and her stress that she forced into Emery’s life. While most kids Emery’s age had to deal with exams, drivers tests, and hormones, Emery had to go through that and more. After all, one would expect Emery needs to learn every language in their future territory, to understand the foundations and history of every settlement, to know how to defend themself against would-be assassins, to make clear decisions in the heat of a moment, to decide who was only using Emery rather than truly a friend, and to use their ability to the fullest. Thanks to everything Emery was forced to go through, it was no wonder Emery hated any and all people who tried to boss them around. But from this point forward, no one could tell Emery what to do, from this point forward, Emery could be free to do what they want when they want to, and from this point forward, Emery would finally be actually free.

“I am going to be finally fucking done.”

Emery did their best to keep a calm expression without looking like a total dork for smiling so much as they eyed every inch of the crown before them that they had seen about a million times before: a crown they had wanted to obliterate and fill with bullet holes on their worst days and smother it with love on their best. Emery could feel the eyes of the crowd glued on them, but Emery was beaming with so much delight that they almost did not remember what to do.

Years and years of preparation and stress and work and stress and training and stress and more stress that just repeated in an endless cycle was all for these next few moments.

Kneeling down, Emery took a deep breath as they gave the crown above them— a symbol of their torment and salvation— a final glance before bowing their head into their lap. Emery was silent as they took a shaky breath in and closed their eyes tightly.

“Bestow what you will upon me,” Emery murmured softly, “O Kings of the past; grant me the power of the King of the future.”

Emery shut their eyes even tighter with a tiny smile still shaping their face.

Silence.

Emery’s smile fell.

Silence.

Something felt wrong.

Silence.

Emery opened their eyes and slowly lifted their head to look towards the sky as a newfound horror unfolded above them. Multiple spirits descended from the sky. From all the books and things Emery was forced to read, there was only one spirit that appeared. Whatever the spirits were that descended from the sky, they were not the King.

“This is wrong.”

Filled with genuine terror for the first time in a long time, Emery stood and pushed themself away from the altar, already preparing for combat as they reached for their gun that was— Oh shit. Even more terror flooded their bones so much that Emery’s hand quivered as they froze briefly. Of course their gun wasn’t there. The stupid ceremonial clothes had no goddamn pockets for Emery’s gun. A soft growl escaped their throat at the realization that they had no weapon to face the intruders as the spirits landed on the stage. One of these days, Emery was going to figure out how to travel back in time to strangle whoever designed anything without pockets.

“No gun, no problem,” Emery thought to themself as they did their best to calm themself down. “I’ll figure this out.”

While the spirits landed beside them, Emery eyed them up and down, looking for a weakness. Not only were they checking for weaker sides and scars that would be more vulnerable, but analyzing their stances, clothings, and expression, anything that Emery could do had even a slight advantage. While they all looked forgien, like creatures from an alien world, except for the woman with white hair and blue eyes, owning a feature Emery had known only to one other person: dragon scales. Taking a deep breath, Emery’s eyes flashed a glowing gold as the four spirits landed beside them, Emery prepared themself to fight whoever these four were.

Thanks to their ability, Emery could see what was the best course of action. Every time they used this power, the world looked like someone had covered everything in gold foil and it was as if Emery was watching themself from someone else’s view. From afar, Emery could see themself on stage going from a defensive position to a more relaxed position. Even as the spirits kept taking around Emery, the best version of themself stayed perfectly still as they held themself high. The vision quickly faded after that. Emery did not see how standing and changing their posture would make much of a difference, but Emery did stand tall, not giving any hint of fear as they glared at each of the people on the stage with them.

While the rainbow eyed man and the dragon-like woman had an interesting reaction to their surroundings, what intrigued Emery was the woman who spoke of spirits and the man who gently touched her shoulder and replied with something about time. Emery’s eyes softened as they stared at the two, both seeming less critical and more concerned.

Although, that empathy passed once Emery was grabbed.

Emery was tossed back and forth between the four like a mouse torn between cats as they played with and tortured the creature. Emery’s patience grew thin as they grit their teeth and a permanent glare was stained onto their face from the insults. By the time the final person approached Emery, something in them briefly snapped, an old scar reopening and being exposed momentarily.

Emery laughed right into the woman’s face.

“All of this? All of this for a stupid legacy?” Emery replied so quietly Emery barely heard the words themself, their first words to the four since they had landed, which were filled with venom and hatred that dripped from every word. “Fuck whatever goddamn legacy I have to fulfill and fuck you.”

And just like that, she was gone.

“Cowards.”

As soon as the gods disappeared, guards rushed onto the stage with worried eyes and petrified faces that were paralyzed with fear. Emery had known some of these guards their whole life, growing up relying and trusting in them. Oliver was the one guard that knew Emery the best and who Emery looked to like one more dad (I mean, why not? Emery already had three parents so why not have one more?) who was always there for them. Oliver was burly and large, barely fitting into the largest possible guard uniform available, and normally had a giant toothy grin on his face, but his eyes were wide with horror as he rushed onto stage with several guards at his heels.

“Emery! Emery, are you alright?!”

The next few seconds went by in a blur. Emery barely remembered when Oliver looked Emery over and guards surrounded them, but apparently it did happen. Emery tuned out his voice for a long time as the cogs in their brain turned. Who were they? What did they want? Why were they all so—

Emery let out a weak hiss as they flinched and pulled away from Oliver’s touch. Emery didn’t remember being hurt, but as Oliver rested his large, plate-sized hands rest on their shoulders, Emery could feel a dull yet stinging pain.

“Shit, they did hurt you…,” Oliver whispered softly, his face growing pale as his eyes scanned Emery’s face. Emery chuckled weakly and gently batted his hands away.

“I’m fine, Oliver, but I need you to focus on the bigger picture here. We need to do as much as possible in these next few—”

“I let you get hurt….” Gradually looking more and more horrified, it was clear Oliver had tuned Emery out as always whenever things become stressful before gently grabbing Emery’s wrist and spinning around to drag Emery off stage. Several of the guards that had followed behind Oliver like lost dogs began to walk alongside Emery to surround them and keep Emery protected, but it was more annoying than anything else. “Come on. We’ll go make sure you—”

“No,” Emery replied firmly, slipping out of Oliver’s grip with a harsh jerk, causing him to stumble back in shock before he turned to face Emery. “Listen, Oliver: kill the camera’s first and foremost: we don’t want hysteria. Second, send as many of your men as possible to inspect the crowd and check on their well-being. We don’t know who or what those things were and we need to make sure no one got hurt while they were here. I doubt they would have, but we cannot be sure. Lastly, I need my phone. I need to make several calls.” Speechless, Oliver just stared at Emery. “Understood?”

“Understood.” Oliver and the other guards dipped their heads. No one moved for a moment. Oliver turned sharply to the guards beside him with a growl, one of them jumping in their boots in terror of Oliver’s glare. “You heard the kid! What are you lot of sorry folks standing around for??” You two—” Oliver motioned to two guards before motioning to the cameras that lay strewn about— “cut the feed while the rest of you inspect the crowd and as many of the people who witnessed this today as you are able to.”

“Yes, sir!!”

“Come on, kid,” Oliver whispered once the other guards went to follow their duties, the big screens going black and the guards quickly being spotted in the crowd as they searched for any injuries amongst the people. “Let’s go get your phone before your father kills me.”

Almost the instant Emery walked off stage, Emery could hear rapid footsteps approaching as their dad practically launched at them, throwing Emery into a tight hug and nearly fell back from impact. Pops was choking back weak sobs as Emery went rigid.

“I’m… I’m okay, Pops,” Emery whispered softly, awkwardly patting his back.

“I-I saw all those people and- and- I knew— I knew— they weren’t the king! I thought that—! I thought they might—!” Pops broke off with a weak sob, shaking as he squeezed Emery tightly.

“Raunak, Emery is okay,” Oliver told the broken man, gently placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. Emery mouthed a small “thank you” to Oliver as he did his best to convince Pops to let Emery go. “They are safe and no one is going to hurt them. You know your kid would just whoop their asses!” Oliver gave Emery’s dad a big cheesy grin as he rubbed Pops’s back. After a moment, Pops pulled away with a nod, gently holding Emery’s face in his hands as if it were the last time he would hold his child.

“Promise me you won’t let yourself get in danger with— with— with whatever the hell those people were,” Pops murmured, tears streaming down his face as both the whites and color of his eyes were red.

“Pops, I—”

“Promise me, मेरे छोटे शासक।!” Pops burst while squeezing Emery’s face in his gentle yet scarred hands. Emery could see their dad’s body shaking in fear at the thought of losing Emery even though Emery knew they had not been in any real danger. Even despite having no fear of the four, Emery nodded only for their dad’s sake. Pops let go of Emery after they nodded, holding onto Oliver’s sleeve for comfort.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I have to go make a call,” Emery muttered as they broke the silence, Pops and Oliver only nodding as Emery walked off.

After grabbing their phone from under the table, right where they left it, Emery managed to sneak around guards who attempted to tell Emery to stay in a safer location and around the droves of people to a secluded alley. Leaning against the walls of the alley, Emery slowly slid down until they were sitting on the floor, clutching their phone close to their chest. Normally, Emery would be fine with all the attention, but not when they needed to make this call.

Especially not when Emery was about to call him.

Emery knew they wanted to call several smaller news stations to inform and calm the public in the less populated areas that might have less access to information, to call more popular news stations so that the entirety of the country has an understanding of the situation, and to call Monika because they needed emotional support and to check if she was okay since she had planned to come to the capital to see the ceremony in person, but Emery wanted to call him first only because this would be the most painful for Emery. Afterall, Emery only knew one person who looked remotely like the dragon-woman on stage.

White hair. Blue eyes. White scales.

“Alexander.”

Emery found his number a while back actually. During an especially violent episode of theirs more than a year ago by now, Emery did their best to track Alexander down, going into the depths of the dark web to find him. Sure, it took several trials and errors to figure out that nearly all the numbers Emery had found were fake. Nearly all of them but one that is. Emery was sure this was him. It had to be. When they were about to call this number after having discovered it from a creepy, crazed fan, they had used their powers to see that waiting and not calling the number was the best possible solution. Hoping that Emery had the correct number, Emery could only pray that this was his number and that waiting for all this time was for this moment right now.

Emery studied the number, more fear and anger threatening to burst the bones in their body than from when the spirits arrived. It felt like their head was being banged repeatedly against a concrete wall and the air was being pressured out of their lungs as if the profile of their friend was reaching through the phone, through their chest, and squeezing Emery dry. Every bone in Emery’s body said for them to smash the phone, delete his contacts, or anything else but this. Could they really do this? After all this time, even saying his name angered Emery to the point of blind rage. What if this whole time, Emery’s fears were real and they were abandoned because of—

The earth itself gave a horrible moan like it was the banshee’s call to signify the death of the world itself as the ground shook. Emery did their best to steady themself by shielding their head as people screamed from the earthquake, running and ducking under a nearby fire escape to protect themself from any falling debris. After what felt like an eon, clutching their hands over their head with their heart thumping loudly in their ear, the shaking stopped but the moaning continued.

“What the actual—” Emery cut themself off as they slowly looked to the skies and saw it flooded with pale spirits, drifting up towards the sky before sinking down to the ground like droplets from a hose facing skyward. A mixture of horror, confusion, and somewhat delight from the fact that Emery loved all things paranormal overcame Emery as they realized something: the dead were rising again.

The only thing more terrifying than what appeared to be millions of souls pouring from the earth was the sound of Emery’s phone ringing as their finger had slipped during the earthquake, causing them to call Alexander without fully being prepared.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit…!”

In the Shadow of Our Ancestors || Roleplay

July 2, 2022 07:00 PM

the Wayne pack

Lightbringer

Posts: 1989
#2783777
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Michael Evans - Male - The Reaper's Descendant - Mentions: N/A

Sinking deeper into darkness, Michael was vaguely aware that he was dozing off again. His body felt weighed down, relaxed, and even to open his eyes at this point, much less drag himself toward wakefulness, felt like it would take all of his willpower to do. His breathing started to deepen and slow into the steady rhythm that those sleeping, or close to it, inhale and exhale in. It was so warm, and the prospect of surrendering to the sinking, pulling sensation was so tempting; attempting to stay awake, much less make himself get out of bed and start the day, was like fighting a loosing battle uphill. A small yawn made him move his head up on the pillow a small amount, inhaling the cold in the air surrounding him, the weighed feeling of sleep closing in on him returned quickly after the brief moment of something resembling alertness.

"Michael?"

The utterance of his name penetrated the fuzzy weighted haze of sleep as effectively as if it had been a hiss or shout. Instinctively, his body tensed, his mind immediately drawing a blank in his memory on the feminine voice speaking in a soft tone. Alarm shot through him as quickly as a lightning strike, burning the relaxation from his veins and clearing the sleep that fogged his mind, leaving only a sharp clarity in its wake. A moment later, and he felt a presence beside him, the feeling of a gaze looking down at him, the dip in the mattress as the addition of another person made it sink down a bit; and he tilted his head upwards and to the side toward that presence, the speaker, to view her in the corner of his vision.

"I hesitate to wake you from your slumber, but I'm afraid I must ask you to rise once more." A slight shift then, then he was able to see her a bit better, even in his peripheral vision. "Do you recognize me?"

In the moment of silence that followed, Michael turned his body over a bit, so that he was not completely on his side, and turned his head more towards the strange woman. The first thing his eyes noticed when directed at her, was that she seemed gaunt and tall, even sitting down. Long dark hair, and high cheekbones; her eyes were so dark that he was sure they were completely black instead of dark brown. She felt familiar, yet he couldn't place it; her appearance sparking something like recognization deep inside him, yet he was not able to pin it down. He did not say anything in response to her, and so after that moment, she spoke again.

"Nevermind, nevermind. It matters little, in the grand scheme of things. I'm far beyond this world, and you are not."

Confusion sparked alongside the alarm that was still present in him, this world? What did she mean by that? His mind was divided between several points of interest, and so another portion was made, struggling to connect the dots on what that last part meant. Alas, he didn't have enough to go on, and so he waited, for she may have had more to say. The woman then smiled, a giddy thing, kicking out a leg and falling back on his bed, long hair spreading out on the covers as she looked up at him as he sat up in surprise, and smiled.

Gray eyes the color of stone stared down into eyes that were black as onyx. Two together, the past and the future. Ancestor and descendant met face to face.

"Isn't it lovely? The beyond I mean. I hope that you love it as much as I do. Even if you don't, hopefully, you'll come to the same sort of love."

Michael was not a stupid person, and he was normally good at figuring things out, but this whole thing was throwing him for a massive loop, and the promient emotion now that rose in place of alarm, was confusion. But he still didn't say anything, let her talk, and payed attention to the strange woman's words.

"This land has ruined their chances, I've seen it coming for a long time -- but the dead, they stay strong, they stay free. They've no need for the material things that have led your kind to filthy this earth. They're dead, you know?"

Michael paused at that. Suddenly, something clicked with that piece being said. A piece of the puzzle falling into place. His heart skipped a beat at the idea that was now at the forefront of his mind, a sharper than normal inhale. No. There was no way this was...

But it made sense.

With his heart beating quickly now, his gaze went back to the Reaper who had inexplicably appeared in his room, instead of the arm that she had stretched upward as she spoke, reaching toward the ceiling, or perhaps it was the sky. Then that limb drew back to the gaunt woman, a feeling that felt sheepish around her for that moment. He moved slightly as she sat up on the bed. His body tense, heart pounding, and eyes on her in a mixture of awe and wariness.

"But that's enough of the ramblings of an old soul, I suppose."

The person who last he remembered, was basically a literal godess said, her dark gaze meeting his own; he was all too tempted to avert his eyes from those unnerving black ones, but he made himself hold her stare. An errant thought made a small part of him wonder: is this what others feel like when I look at them?

"My, my, you must be lost," She said, the words spoken sounding more like they were pondering, mused, instead of a statement. And he honestly didn't know if she was talking to him, or to herself, and if it was directed to himself, he didn't have a clue about being lost. He watched as she straightened up, before leaning forward, her hair falling over her lap as she looked at him, and smiled again.

"But, really, you don't need to know much. It's simple. Soon, my descendant, I'll give you a lovely ability to commune with the dead so that you may be able to guide them in their journey to this world. I'm sure you'll do well."

Despite himself, Michael's eyes widened a little as he stared at his ancestor. A shiver crept down his spine at the thought of communicating with the dead, a natural reaction to it, he was sure. Even if he wanted to say something, he probably wouldn't be able to now through the shock. He twitched slightly as she leaned closer to him, her smile growing wider, a sparkle in her dark eyes that made him feel a little bit like prey in front of a wolf. Another shiver went down his spine, and he finally broke, looking away from her eyes for a moment. An uneasy feeling starting to build in his stomach.

"Soon, soon, I'll be merging the two worlds, the beyond and the current land. It'll be chaotic in the beginning, yes, but in the end, I do believe you'll come to see it's better for everyone involved! I'm sure that you can help make it a little bit less chaotic, dear; your abilities will certainly help. Help me let the neglected souls of the lost roam free."

In his peripheral vision, her smile morphed into a grin. The aforementioned uneasy feeling similarly morphed into something larger, a pit in his stomach, dread; and a jittery feeling starting to course through his body, nervous anticipation to whatever was going to happen. He swallowed, a tad bit nervously, and brought his focus back to his ancestor, turning his head to see her full on again.

"I'll start for the both of us."

With those parting words, she was gone.

Michael sat there in pure belated disbelief, almost unable to comprehend what the absolute hell had just transpired. He blinked, pinching himself sharply, flincing at the sharp sting of accompanying pain. Then, his body shaking slightly, he stood up from the bed on unsteady legs.

Then the earth gave a moan, a sound that made the deepest, primal part of him want to cringe, a horrible sound; as the earth began to shake. He was pitched off balance and to the side as the earthquake began, he caught himself with his hands, the impact of most of his body's weight traveling up his arms. He knew immediately that he needed to get out. Hissing a expletive, he made use of his teleportation ability and was suddenly outside in the snow; the shock of it making him jump up, and nearly fall down again due to the shaking ground underneath his feet. His head was bowed and eyes shut; he stayed where he was, knowing that he was clear of the house in case it fell, just waiting it out, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. And then it stopped, after what felt like hours, or years, the earthquake stopped. But the moaning remained.

Opening his eyes, straighting up, Michael's eyes flicked skyward, horror and fear flooding his body as he registered what he was seeing. The sky was full of spirits, millions of the pale shapes rising upward, only to sink back down like they had hit an invisible barrier preventing them from continuing on up. The young man simply stood there, eyes locked on the sky, frozen in pure incredulity. He... he knew what was going on, the Reaper had told him about it, basically; yet he just couldn't believe this. It was a terrifying sight, sending shivers through his body. Realizing that his mouth had dropped open at some point, he shut so quickly that his teeth clicked as a result. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then finally managed to breath two words that perfectly summed up his current feelings.

"Holy fuck."

Edited at July 7, 2022 01:54 PM by the Wayne pack

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