aterat | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who; Everyone!
What; Pulse log; REMEMBRANCE
Where; Throughout the City
When; August 8th - 15th
Warnings; Will update when and as necessary

In the days leading up to August 8th, the city is abuzz with activity. Businesses in the Merchant district have posted notices they will be closed the following week in observance of something called “Remembrance”. The Aspects are absent this week, though that doesn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary, and it’s easy to get caught up in what is quite a celebratory time in the city. Harvests and meats are being brought in from the outlying farms, the main square is being cordoned into stalls for food, drink, and performances. The guard is more present this week, keeping a close eye on the organization and watching for any miscreants.

As the time of the festival approaches, a quiet excitement seems to thrum through the others here, young and old alike, and on the evening of the 8th, a commencement parade makes its way through the market district.

The procession, filled with musicians, dancers, jugglers, and the like, make their way from the fountain square to the center of the market district, where a crude stage has been erected in the square at the center of the market district, in front of the guard headquarters. It’s nothing fancy, but it does serve the purpose of bringing to the attention of those gathered those who stand atop it.

A tall man in a Guardsman’s blue uniform climbs the stairs, steel plates glittering in the midday sun. He has a stern countenance, and there’s a stiffness through his shoulders that suggests he isn’t overly fond of public speeches. He takes a steadying breath before clearing his throat.

“People of Aterat, those of us who were risen from its ashes and those of us who have been gathered to kindle its flame,” he pauses here for a moment, giving his address an air of gravitas. “Welcome. I am Captain Orson Khannar, of the Aterat City Guard. I was a guardsman before the Fall and I can tell you we stand as a shadow of our former selves, but we do stand. Two years ago, today, the Aspects descended from the Fountain, all that remained of our once proud land, they saw the ruin wrought upon it, and they began to weave. There was little of us left, but what stands was reassembled because we Remembered.” A cheer rises from the collected locals, along with a few scattered cries of ‘bless the Aspects’ and ‘long may Halcyn reign’. Captain Khannar raises a hand to still the crowd and after a moment, their cheers and raised prayers quiet.

“But we did not remember enough. This year, the Creator has provided, and we welcome among us memories from other worlds. This Remembrance, do not forget their sacrifice.” His tone changes then, and his piercing gaze moves across all those who have come here from elsewhere. “Outlanders, I expect nothing of you, but I offer you a warning: we are not your captors but we are your neighbors. As such, we will hold you to the same standards to which we hold ourselves. I am the Captain of your guard, and it is my sworn oath to keep this city safe from miscreants. That said, those of you who are willing and able, I would welcome your aid. Surely by now you have seen our fair city has its share of problems. My office is just there across the square.”

And with that bit of business handled, he directs his attention back to the crowd. “A Happy Remembrance to us all!” The crowd cheers again, though less enthusiastically, as a few look around at those gathered from other worlds, uncertain if they share the Captain’s willingness to welcome the aid of ‘Outlanders’.

The rest of the week is a city-wide party. The taverns are overflowing with merrymakers, there is wine and food for all, music at all hours of the day and night. Performers come out in droves, there are artists, artisans, and the like. If you can think of a festival occurrence, it happens at some point, though all the shops are closed for normal hours. It seems it’s quite the holiday, and you are welcome to invent whatever you'd like for a scene.

The Captain remains true to his word, and the Guard HQ in the Market Square seems to be the only place operating normally. There are regular patrols throughout the events, but Captain Khannar can be found most days in his office, upstairs in the HeadQuarters, should anyone like to question him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He placed a hand over his heart, though the smile he flashed her way was a wry one. "On my honor, I'll never forget, pet."

He thought on her question for a moment before responding with a slight shrug. "I don't know. Maybe that depends on where the brimstone comes from."

"I will not be so generous next time," she added with a brief smirk. There were probably plenty of people that would argue she was never really generous. Luckily those people were not here to say that.

"Limbo," she said with her own shrug. "Magic. A bit of both."

"Cheers. Generosity just makes me suspicious anyway." He quirked an eyebrow. "Magic smells like brimstone?"

"As it should. Generosity always comes with a price," she said casually. It was either a price that would be paid by those receiving it or by those offering it. "Most dark magic has at least a hint of it. White magic has a different scent. Some might say a more pleasant scent." Though it seemed like far too long since she had last cast a white spell. The Ororo of Limbo would be rather disappointed in her for that she imagined. There was probably no shortage of things that her companions from that time would be disappointed with her for. Best to not think on that.

He nodded at that curtly. "Damn right it does. Someone always wants something, and most people who want it bad enough are willing to shine a few shoes to get it." And kiss a few asses, but that's sort of par for the course when you're in the service industry.

"...Dark and White magic? What's the difference?"

She frowned at his first comment but let the topic go. There were too many cynical things she could say to that for her to pick just one. Instead she focused on an explanation for magic. "One corrupts and one heals," she replied simply.

"You must be very careful with black magic. White is harder for me to use, but less dangerous."

"And are you?" Because it's clear she prefers it. "Careful with black magic that is?"

"I know my limits." Did that mean she was careful? Not quite. It did mean she knew she'd already been as corrupted as she could get. So, there was not much more she could lose.

"Yeah, that's comforting." He didn't know near enough about magic to judge, really, but that didn't mean he didn't note her expression or her tone. So, Illyana was someone who liked to tempt fate. That was good to know.

"But you can do white magic?"

"Of course. I had a teacher in Limbo who taught me much of it," she said as casually as she could. How strange that even after so much time, and so much lost, she still felt a pang of regret towards the loss of Ororo. Was it regret? She was not entirely certain on that.

"White magic is simply derived from your own will or, for some, purity of mind." That was not precisely the case for her any longer but at one point she had been able to.

"Limbo?" Aside from Biblical implications, he had no idea what to expect from such a claim, or such a name for a location. It sounded to him as though she missed it, either the place or her experiences there, or perhaps it was something as simple as missing her teacher.

"I see, and...what about black magic? What is that derived from?"

"My realm," she said as casually as she could muster. There was little hesitation in mentioning it and yet something in the back of her mind almost made her uncomfortable in speaking too much about it with him. Why with him? And why the discomfort suddenly? It left her almost visibly frustrated before she pulled herself together to answer his second question.

"Sacrifice. Rituals. Making deals with demons or evils. Or simply from having demonic blood in you."

"Your-" His voice was a squeak and he cut himself off, clearing his throat and pretending, poorly, that he was having an allergy flair up. "Your realm?"

None of those reasons, save for the last, sounded like a good idea. To be fair, the last didn't either, but it also didn't seem as though there was much of a choice in the matter. "And...which method do you employ?"

She paused for a second and shifted her position almost as if she might be uncomfortable. "I overthrew it's previous ruler many years ago," she said with as little emotion as she could manage. "Now, I rule Limbo and it's demon hordes answer to me." There were bits and pieces she left out to that story, but she figured it might be good enough. Besides, who would truly want to hear the full tragic backstory? Pity was not something she particularly sought after.

"Whatever the spell requires," she said with a halfhearted shrug. "Though my lack of a soul makes most castings rather easy."

It was a lot to digest, it sounded more like the plot of a fantasy novel than reality, but given their surroundings and the means by which they arrived here, who was he to judge what could and couldn't be possible? "That must come in handy when other demon hordes come calling." He threw out the sardonic remark to buy time to process the rest. Something else she'd said kept returning to the forefront of his mind and he frowned. "How long ago was 'several years'?"

His eyebrows rose as she continued, and he licked his lips as he recalled their previous topic, about souls and value, and the lack of knowledge of it. "Your...lack of a soul?"

"It comes in handy for many things," she said with a strange smile. Mainly as a dumping ground for enemies that needed to be taken out of the equation. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged a shoulder. "Time does not move the same in Limbo. But..." she paused for a second as she tried to think of a way to explain anything. A huff of a sigh escaped her lips. "Belasco has been dead for five years. Perhaps more. Perhaps less. I have maintained control for the most part since then." For the most part.

Ah. Perhaps that was something she should not have brought up so directly. "That is...a story I doubt you would want to hear much of."

For the most part, she said. While he would try his best to do as little imagining if what Limbo might be like, he wouldn't voice his curiosity. If she did manage to reach the place here, something told him she wouldn't be against showing him around and he didn't trust his own curiosity enough not to take her up on the offer. That sort of thing didn't readily leave someone's memory.

"I imagine a demonic world would be inherently chaotic." And there was his curiosity again, asking questions she was probably right about his not wanting the answer to.

For just a moment she let the frown show on her face in response to his comment. Showing how she might truly feel about Limbo and her situation in being taken there was not something she was particular open to

"Limbo reflects it's ruler," she replied with as even a tone as she could manage. "Under Belasco there was little chaos. Until I came into my own powers there were none who would dare contest him." She shook her head. "If I cannot return though...there will be problems." She did not want to think too much about how chaotic it would become.

He wasn't certain what it might mean, that Limbo reflected its owner. He simply didn't know her well enough, nor how the hierarchy of demons might work in any reality, let alone one removed from his own. "What, ah...sort of problems?"

"Rebellion," she replied simply. "More so now. Many of my recent actions have...solidified me as a formidable leader." To say the least. There was no bragging in her tone though. Facts were facts and that was all the explanation was to her. A fact. The bloody path she had cut through Limbo in her search for her bloodstones and a way to rid Limbo of her enemies had left a strong impression. "There is risk they will attempt to invade if left alone too long. Some lower demon will be foolish enough to think they could make a name for themselves with a reach for power."

Something in what she said made something occur to him he hadn't considered before and his eyebrows rose.

"Maybe they won't notice. Maybe...no one will notice we're gone." It was a stretch, even he knew, but they had all been removed from their respective timelines.

"Maybe, maybe, maybe," she replied followed by a 'tsk tsk' sound. "So many maybes in everything here." Too many maybes. Illyana was not fond of leaving things up to maybes. Yet here that seemed to be one of the many things they were forced to accept.

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head. "It is possible if this world currently acts as a pocket dimension..." Such a thought had not occurred to her until now. "Limbo works much the same. Many years can pass in Limbo while only days or weeks pass on Earth."

"Pocket dimension." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "There's a phrase I never thought I'd hear outside of science fiction." He breathed a sigh, running a gloved hand back through his hair. It was a familiar gesture, one he clearly made often.

"...okay, so...if it isn't a pocket, what then? What if...it's just a separate, full universe?"

"When I can enter it, I will show Limbo," she said with a half smile. Then he could truly see science fiction in action. She shrugged to his question though. "Then it will depend on the laws of the one that rules this universe. If they can manipulate time, it is possible we will not be missed. If they cannot..." Then things would be messy indeed.

"That is both intriguing and terrifying and for some reason, I'm looking forward to it." He must have a death wish. That or he was actually starting to like this girl, and if that was the case he was already screwed.

"There's reason to worry about it." Not that that would stop him from worrying either way. "Or at least trying not to."