June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

[lifeaftr_mods]

JUNE EVENT: CHAOS, CHAOS!

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: It's just a little chaos...
When: June 17th - June 22nd
Where: Primarily Io, though also across Ensō and the islets if applicable
Warnings: Violence, possible body horror, potential anxiety and dysmorphia associated with body-swapping

Who Keeps Spinning the World Around?

The morning of June 17th, you'll probably notice things are amiss rather quickly. Your hands aren't your hands, or you're no longer in a squishy human flesh shape, or worse. Maybe your Lawful Good persona has plummeted into an outright Chaotic Evil one. Or maybe you wake up with a brand new power in your hands! Whatever the case is, no explanation is going to be immediately forthcoming, from Eleu or the Storyteller or anyone else. You'll have to figure out this mess on your own. Adjust to your new circumstances, master your new powers, and do what you can to make it through the next few days...because they're going to be some very interesting ones, for certain.

Catch Me If You Can!

Come June 20th, whether you're back to normal selves or not, Eleu has a job for you. A request, even. They're going to need your help to take care of this little problem and put a stop to all this absolute madness.

Those interested in helping can get in touch with any of the honeybees buzzing anxiously about Io, and they will redirect you to the Honeycomb, which has now been provided with several barrels of Honeycomb Sledgehammers for your use. You don't have to take one if you don't need it, but they make a very powerful weapon. Additionally, Eleu will take care to assure that, in exchange for your help, you may keep the Sledgehammer, if you so choose. Those interested in assisting may access our boss fight at its top-level below. This is a single thread with no order, but anyone may participate, regardless of their current state of being. Don't worry about how you contribute, or tag speed. Anyone who's concerned about being left out is welcome to reach out to us to handwave or backtag their involvement, if necessary!

The Clown Box is going to put up a fight, though. And it's not going to be pretty.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] June 17th: Chaos begins!
[ ♆ ] June 21st: On the eve of the final battle, Storytelling commences.
[ ♆ ] June 22nd: Characters confront the Clown Box, and all parties return to normal.
[ ♆ ] June 25th: All parties become privy to the final outcome involving the Clown Box.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[deathfindsaway]

[He should have known this would happen. This is the problem with passion, the way he so often falls to it; always have to be a right. Always have to be a structure. He swears he can hear Anbaki giving him shit in the back of his brain for it now. But that's not important when the man in front of him is back to being on fire, and without thinking, he just reaches out and grabs his shoulders.

Oh, this is going to hurt.]

Tim! Listen to me! It is well within your right to be scared and not believe me, but however long you are here you will not be found! And if whatever great beast arrives here, we will handle that ultimatum when it comes. Please--

[He won't let go, even if it burns and he wishes he was more himself and less mortal.]

Please listen to me. Listen to someone.

[postictal]

[In another minute, Tim's shouting inarticulately. Give it a minute further, and that shouting has words.]

Get off me get off me get off me get off me get OFF ME -

[He's not listening. He can't listen. He can't listen to anything but the heat biting at his ears and the flames are starting to sear his skin, burning into the hands of someone who's gripped his shoulders. He can't do this. He can't be grabbed like that'll fix it not like this he can't do this.]

[He needs to get to the water. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like the water, but if he doesn't, he burns.]

[Maybe he should.]

[deathfindsaway]

[Kravitz is used to his actions having consequences, but nothing has gone quite this badly in a long time. Maybe it's because he usually is trying to kill the people he's talking to, but that's not important right now. Tim's panic is seizing into his heart and he lets go quickly, hands shaking not just from the pain of the flames and the blistering skin on his palms. All he can do is something, something, something, and as much as it feels like a cop out he knows dousing him worked before. It's a better alternative to pushing him off a cliff, at least.

He doesn't approach once he's tossed another bucket of water over them though; he retreats, a few steps back with his hands up. He's scared, but not of Tim- because Tim is scared, angry, panicked, and those feelings are making it hard to not simply run. Maybe this is why Ren hides so much. He'll have to work on that.

But he won't leave yet until he knows the other man is alive, even if he knows he isn't helping this situation further.]

[postictal]

[The water does it, at least for a moment. It also shuts him up, because he inhales a mouthful of it between the shouting that almost, but doesn't quite, break into a mess of sobs. Instead he just breaks down coughing, which is arguably the better outcome of the two.]

[The fires fizzle out to a dull coal-glow limning the skin of his arms. The skin is reddened in places, black and glistening in others. He can feel it: on his back, down his spine, at the base of his neck.]

[It's going to scar.]

[There's nothing for him to do but cough up the fluid in his lungs, and try to shut his eyes against the influx of tears pressing at the backs of his lids.]

[deathfindsaway]

[He keeps a bit of a distance, this time; no touch, he's learned that, and at least he isn't on fire anymore. But there's not much he can do here, and he hates that feeling of helplessness, of a job left unfinished even in a world he has no jurisdiction over. Still, it allows them both a moment to breathe, and he can't possibly leave without--]

I'm sorry. Please, I-- let me know if you need to ask the Stoyteller about your injuries. I will front whatever costs, of course, and uhm... not bother you further.

[He might just do it anyway without prompting, because lord, what else can he do?]

[postictal]

I don't - need -

[Help. No, that's a lie - clearly he does need help. Angry, reddened welts now crawl up over parts of his forearms. Probably snake all the way up to his shoulders, along his spine. Layered over the crisscrosses of pale scar tissue that he never lets anyone see.]

[He doesn't have a satisfying end to that sentence. That's fine. He can barely concentrate on stringing the words together.]

I don't need - your help.

[deathfindsaway]

[As much as he wants to argue, there's just no point for all that now. He's hurt. The least he can do is not make it worse.]

Please... be gentle to yourself, then. And perhaps stay close to a water source. I do not mean you any harm.

[But his presence here obviously isn't helping, so he'll look to leave-- and hopefully direct someone more qualified towards his presence that can actually stop him from hurting himself going forward.]

[postictal]

[Gentle? Be gentle? How about Tim gently sets himself on fucking fire? Again?]

Go...f-fuck yourself.

[That's about all he can manage before he turns away, starts moving for the ocean. He might as well stay close to the water while he can. That's gonna be the only preventative measure he can really take here.]