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Entry tags:
[open] liberté, égalité, fraternité
WHO: Arno and whoever else
WHERE: In the city and on the rooftops
WHEN: Mid to late September
WHAT: Arno has arrived and honestly, he's a mess
WARNINGS: Hooded shenanigans, a voiced query, and violence/trauma of a castle siege
[a. as crime unfurls its banners (labyrinth).
The smoke is thick enough he could choke.
Arno remembers this. Remembers being here, and the cries and the screams of innocents as swords plunged into the fray and silenced them forever. How magic tore through the walls and fire lit everything from floor to ceiling alight. The stone cracks, the walls shake, the earth seems to move even though the assassin knows it's the heat and the elements fighting against each other on the castle grounds- the Battle of Caer Scima.
He's been here before; once awake, and many more times asleep in nightmares. The end is always the same. He saves who he can- nameless, faceless people who he knows he should remember, but cannot. Try as he might, he cannot save everyone, and he knows he can't, since the revolution back home proves that on a daily basis. France is in turmoil and her people are uprising, and here he still is, locked in a far away realm focused on the survival of not only his world, but every other world that exists entirely. It's enough to drive a man mad.
Moving down the corridors has been a mixture of frustration and folly. Things seem to keep turning around, exits aren't where they usually are, and he's struggling to find where he needs to go. A turn of a corridor has him running, trying to get to one of the lower balconies to drop out–
The way is blocked. But he knows this is the path he took before, just how-
Something passes by the corner of his eye at this, and he turns, noticing someone else is in here with him. Someone else? Who could it be, they have to be absolutely insane for staying in here as things get worse. Arno calls out to them, trying to get their attention.]
Where are you? [He's trying to push past the falling wood and debris, blood on his face and cinder in his clothes.] How are you even here- you need to get out, the castle is going to fall!
[Said as if he's not the one stuck here, in this labyrinth, and is the one that needs rescuing.
b. we don't have any more nobles or priests. (rooftops)
It's taken some time to adjust to the modern setting, but at least the architecture is still somewhat familiar. Some buildings are far too smooth on the surface to climb upwards, but plenty more still have drain pipes, escape stairs, and clotheslines to adjust and leap across with sheer recklessness. That is to say that there is a blue robed man with an eagle-beaked hood traversing above people's heads, flinging himself from rooftop to rooftop in an effort to internally map out the city.
Those who notice him below may just get noticed back, Arno peeking his head over the edge of the roof and giving a bit of a cheeky smile.]
Bonjour, lovely weather we're having, isn't it? [WELL, THIS IS A BIT AWKWARD no one ever notices him from below, time to pretend he's not doing anything suspicious.
The ones who meet him on the rooftops, though? That's not as awkward as others who notice from below. In some ways, it's a comfort- though Arno doesn't say much to that effect at all. Rather, it's a sort of camaraderie that he hasn't seen in some time. He misses Paris, he misses France, he misses the Brotherhood.]
Well, I can't say I was expecting company, but here you are. Taking in the sights, I assume?
[c. liberty, beloved liberty. (network) un: pigeon]
How many of you have been through something like this before?
[There's no video to this, only a voice with a French accent that sounds both confused as well as curious.]
What I mean is being taken away from your home, or being brought to another for a certain cause. [He may just be pacing at this point.] At least this one doesn't seem to have any battles or any sense of the end of the world, so I suppose there is some merit to this city.
Still, I'm no stranger to it- at least how it happens and we're expected to adapt. Unfortunately I can't say I'm used to the time aspect of it. Going from a world where it was even behind my own time to one that is far ahead is... difficult. [A beat.] Last I remember, I belonged to another realm called the Drabwurld; and we had just begun to pick ourselves up from the world essentially reverting to its past so we could stop its future.
[At this, his tone grows frustrated.] We were ready to fight to stop the supposed end of everything and the Void- and now, somehow, I'm here. I don't suppose there's any way to send carrier pigeons to another realm entirely, is there?
[The amount of sarcasm he has in that question is enough to choke a horse. He already knows the answer.]
WHERE: In the city and on the rooftops
WHEN: Mid to late September
WHAT: Arno has arrived and honestly, he's a mess
WARNINGS: Hooded shenanigans, a voiced query, and violence/trauma of a castle siege
[a. as crime unfurls its banners (labyrinth).
The smoke is thick enough he could choke.
Arno remembers this. Remembers being here, and the cries and the screams of innocents as swords plunged into the fray and silenced them forever. How magic tore through the walls and fire lit everything from floor to ceiling alight. The stone cracks, the walls shake, the earth seems to move even though the assassin knows it's the heat and the elements fighting against each other on the castle grounds- the Battle of Caer Scima.
He's been here before; once awake, and many more times asleep in nightmares. The end is always the same. He saves who he can- nameless, faceless people who he knows he should remember, but cannot. Try as he might, he cannot save everyone, and he knows he can't, since the revolution back home proves that on a daily basis. France is in turmoil and her people are uprising, and here he still is, locked in a far away realm focused on the survival of not only his world, but every other world that exists entirely. It's enough to drive a man mad.
Moving down the corridors has been a mixture of frustration and folly. Things seem to keep turning around, exits aren't where they usually are, and he's struggling to find where he needs to go. A turn of a corridor has him running, trying to get to one of the lower balconies to drop out–
The way is blocked. But he knows this is the path he took before, just how-
Something passes by the corner of his eye at this, and he turns, noticing someone else is in here with him. Someone else? Who could it be, they have to be absolutely insane for staying in here as things get worse. Arno calls out to them, trying to get their attention.]
Where are you? [He's trying to push past the falling wood and debris, blood on his face and cinder in his clothes.] How are you even here- you need to get out, the castle is going to fall!
[Said as if he's not the one stuck here, in this labyrinth, and is the one that needs rescuing.
b. we don't have any more nobles or priests. (rooftops)
It's taken some time to adjust to the modern setting, but at least the architecture is still somewhat familiar. Some buildings are far too smooth on the surface to climb upwards, but plenty more still have drain pipes, escape stairs, and clotheslines to adjust and leap across with sheer recklessness. That is to say that there is a blue robed man with an eagle-beaked hood traversing above people's heads, flinging himself from rooftop to rooftop in an effort to internally map out the city.
Those who notice him below may just get noticed back, Arno peeking his head over the edge of the roof and giving a bit of a cheeky smile.]
Bonjour, lovely weather we're having, isn't it? [WELL, THIS IS A BIT AWKWARD no one ever notices him from below, time to pretend he's not doing anything suspicious.
The ones who meet him on the rooftops, though? That's not as awkward as others who notice from below. In some ways, it's a comfort- though Arno doesn't say much to that effect at all. Rather, it's a sort of camaraderie that he hasn't seen in some time. He misses Paris, he misses France, he misses the Brotherhood.]
Well, I can't say I was expecting company, but here you are. Taking in the sights, I assume?
[c. liberty, beloved liberty. (network) un: pigeon]
How many of you have been through something like this before?
[There's no video to this, only a voice with a French accent that sounds both confused as well as curious.]
What I mean is being taken away from your home, or being brought to another for a certain cause. [He may just be pacing at this point.] At least this one doesn't seem to have any battles or any sense of the end of the world, so I suppose there is some merit to this city.
Still, I'm no stranger to it- at least how it happens and we're expected to adapt. Unfortunately I can't say I'm used to the time aspect of it. Going from a world where it was even behind my own time to one that is far ahead is... difficult. [A beat.] Last I remember, I belonged to another realm called the Drabwurld; and we had just begun to pick ourselves up from the world essentially reverting to its past so we could stop its future.
[At this, his tone grows frustrated.] We were ready to fight to stop the supposed end of everything and the Void- and now, somehow, I'm here. I don't suppose there's any way to send carrier pigeons to another realm entirely, is there?
[The amount of sarcasm he has in that question is enough to choke a horse. He already knows the answer.]