epidemiology | EVENT ★ BACK TO THE FUTURE

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EVENT ★ BACK TO THE FUTURE

BENDED TIME

As outlined in the OOC post, things start to slow down and grow quiet in Oska for a few days as the bugs crawl away and slowly disappear. But then the cocoons hatch. Fully grown temporal insects claw their way out of them, each about the size and temperament of raging bulls.

They come out far more aggressive and eager to fight, are are willing to take on anything that moves with jaws and claws alike. Except, of course, another insect — when two of them encounter each other, they enter into a mating dance and then slip away into another dimension, leaving behind only the temporary ghosts of years gone by. If you can’t find a way to pierce that thick shell to take one down, better find another one to pair it off with instead. Just try not to get bit while leading them around and find yourself suddenly 5 years old again.

The insects aren’t the only thing going on in Oska, though. As it turns out, unicorns really hate this adult form of the temporal insects, and will start kicking their way out of their stalls in the stables to get at the insects in an attempt to impale or trample them. According to Uruz they’re gallant warriors, but not always quite cut out to take on a bug, and can easily get themselves hurt or killed. She would really appreciate recruits taking a moment to recapture any stray unicorns they may come across and leading them back to the stables. Try to avoid any insects on the way, or you’ll find yourself suddenly fighting insect and irate unicorn, which is no one’s idea of a good time.

The lake is getting more active, too. All the fighting has woken up something in the depths of it. Dark red tentacles sometimes creep up onto shore — and don’t worry, this time they don’t belong to a sea goddess. The tentacles don’t attack unless attacked, and can in fact be quite agreeable. Nodes along the length of them act as primitive eyes, which see well enough to interact with anyone nearby. They’re also all a little peckish. Toss a tentacle a bit of food and watch it curl around and ingest it using tiny mouths on the underside. It might even be willing to play a few rounds of fetch or slap a bug into the sky for you if you put it in a good mood with a morsel of food.

The senior ALASTAIR members can be seen out and about and doing their part, too. Uruz and Dagny fight as a team, centaur and elf, sometimes fighting back to back and sometimes as mount and rider. They’ll stop and lend a hand, but the cats are a little less generous. Cherenkov and Crowley fight inseparably and use magic and science in deadly combination to ward off and destroy the bugs, but can usually only be seen darting on their way from one place to another. They have a lot of magitek to repair in the destructive wake of the insects. Pomarr, neither as senior nor as invested in actively picking off the bugs, offers shelter near a tentacle-free portion of the lake, calling down storms to toss away bugs for her and anyone in the vicinity.

OOC NOTES

This log spans a week ICly. Characters will find themselves beginning to understand each other again as the bugs first vanish, as the effects of the cats’ work on the magitek pays off. The translation problem will be completely fixed by the time the cocoons hatch. All of the bugs will have been killed or shipped off by the sixth day, leaving the last day before their departure to the next mission blissfully relaxing. Any temporally misplaced recruits will be back to normal by the last day, as well.

A reminder to anyone still texting: the texting feature of magitek jewelry operates based on thought! There are no physical keyboards, recruits merely think the message that they’d like to send to another recruit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[As much as Sieglinde had wanted to study the phenomenon occurring at hand, the bugs and the jumps through time- or at least, that had been the plan, she'd found herself outside the castle grounds, awaking suddenly with little memory of how she'd gotten there. It was a trek back to the castle, and she'd only just made it with her hobbled gait, plopping down in a whirl of skirts to rest a moment and adjust the bandage on her arm before...

Was that a unicorn?

It is, cantering past in a gorgeous stream of white and flowing mane, and on its heels... a handsome, wild boy? It was hardly a sight she couldn't expect to see in such a bizarre place as Oska, but. Why? Her gaze moves between the boy and the unicorn, that had slowed its gait and stood temptingly still in sight, confused and unable to help but stir to ask.]

Why do you pursue that creature?

[His gaze falls upon her as she speaks, and for a moment he seems as surprised to see her as she was to see him chasing after the gleaming white unicorn. His is a society in which men and women lead quite discrete lives until they are wed: at thirteen years of age, the only girls he can claim to know are those who serve in his father's house, all demure and silently obedient, and of little more interest to him than the furniture. More than a year has turned since last he passed through the halls of Peleus' great house, however, and perhaps he now notices something in the fairer sex which before he overlooked. The girl who sits before him is curious in appearance, her manner of dress strange to him yet undeniably splendid, her hair sleek and dark and ornately done up. Quite suddenly, Achilles feels a prickle of rare self-consciousness for his uncivilized appearance.]

The lady centaur asked that these horned horses be returned to the stables. I did not expect it would be so impossible a task, however.

[There is in his words the undeniable imprint of a pout, yet still he holds his chin with a proudly defiant lift, and for all his time passed in the untamed wilds of Mount Pelion he possesses still the impeccable carriage of a prince.]

Unicorns are very proud beasts... I do not imagine they take kindly to being saddled.

[Though she'd been sitting quite casually before, when she thought no one could see her, Sieglinde tried to surreptitiously straighten up and present herself a bit better, tucking a stray strand of dark hair into her hennin, smoothing down her skirts.

There was a time she wouldn't have bothered for a boy who seemed about the same age as herself- she was more inclined to use her efforts on men, seeing as her goal wasn't a crush but an heir... but luckily, or unluckily, for the boy in her present company... she's just recently experienced her spring awakening.

Her first kiss (two kisses) from a certain young Sumerian hero had worked wonders towards opening her eyes to the potential charms of her fellow youths.

Still, she examined her company in a new light, even if her current question was... the state of his virginity. Did unicorns even respond to male virgins the same as female? Certainly that was never mentioned in the legends...]

But, perhaps I could be of some assistance...

[While she straightens herself and smooths her skirts, he attempts to swipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The result is little better, for his hands too are grimy with the sweat and dust accumulated lately in his hopeless pursuit. How strange that it should bother him to wear this appearance with which he is so comfortable when with Patroclus, at whose side he so easily leaves off all cares. Even when he had first pressed his lips to Patroclus' so smooth, it occurred to him not that he ought to worry over the way he looked: his only worry had been if his friend should find it strange, and this followed after the deed itself as thunder chases lightning. Such had been his own awakening, as fresh in his memory as Sieglinde's is in hers, yet he had thought little of its intricacies and implications. In the sanctuary of Mount Pelion, that wild kingdom which feels so impenetrable, so secluded from the fading outside world, such questions demanded no discernible answers.

Upon her offer, Achilles' eyes light up.]

Know you much about these beasts? You speak as would one who is familiar with their ways. Will you tell me then how I might tame them?

I am familiar with the legends, at least.

[It really was a beautiful creature, just as the stories and manuscripts said they were. So white as if to seem unreal in this world, somehow seeming clean and unbothered despite the lengths it has driven the boy chasing it to exert himself. Her gaze is drawn to it, torn between the pure beauty of the unicorn and the raw wild of the boy.

Not that she hasn't met boys her own age now at this point, over a year in ALASTAIR's employ, but. They tended to be a more elegant looking sort... but this wasn't so bad either.

Focus, Sieglinde-]

It is said that only a pure maiden can tame a unicorn.

[Which for most young ladies might be all they felt they need say as to how they could be of us, but Sieglinde, who saw herself far more as a woman grown than as a child, felt the need to actually clarify- just in case her mature charms gave a different impression.]

I being one such maiden, of course.

Then such a task truly is impossible for me!

[O, what heavy suffering it is to be told that you cannot do something based solely upon your sex... With this exclamation he lets escape a sigh which bears the heft of his frustrations, yet at once his wounded pride is somewhat assuaged for it, as it is through no fault of his own that he has failed thus far.

He now treads ever closer to Sieglinde and crouches beside her upon the balls of his feet, with his hands balanced atop his knees. His eyes gleam earnestly as he speaks.]

You will help me then, will you not? Would you be able to lure the beast over here, or still would it shy from me as I am not a maiden like yourself?

[And who is she to refuse such an earnest request? Sieglinde would like to think that no one was capable, really- it would remove responsibility from her in the same way as Achilles' gender did for him...

And he was so awfully close and rakishly tousled, brimming with golden youthfulness...

Without realizing it, she leaned in towards him, cheeks somewhat pink.]

If you would escort me, I am not opposed to making an attempt... if it is averse to your presence even with mine own, then I will attempt the steps alone.

[Which might sound somewhat odd, to ask to be escorted such a short distance, but she began to unfold her legs from beneath her in anticipation, and her legs were swathed in bandages from knee to top of toe.

Needing help wasn't the only reason she asked for it, but. Other motivations need not be given word.]

[It is not until she leans toward him that he realizes how very close they are, and how very little space separates his face from hers. How fortunate that his cheeks already are colored red from his fruitless running, for now she will see no such graceless thoughts splashed across his face. Swiftly he shoots up to his feet once more, holding his chin high and his shoulders back so as to appear unruffled.

Then he sees with wide eyes how her legs are wrapped in bandages, and presently he begins to regret asking for her aid. Yet still she seems willing, so he settles on a fair compromise.]

I can carry you upon my back, that you need not strain your legs so. Come now--

[So speaking he turns and settles into a half-squat, with his hands reaching behind ready to help her climb aboard.]

Edited 2016-09-05 16:59 (UTC)

[It was like the gods wanted her to be tempted, it really was. In far more serious situations, when life and death and missions hung in the balance Sieglinde did not spare the time for such salacious thinking or scandalized reactions to such contact between the (aesthetically pleasing) opposite sex...

But this is no such serious day, and her mind has ample leisure to run as wild as the boy himself.

She is glad he faces away briefly, so as not to see her stutter, anxiously fuss with her dress and hair.]

W- well, if you have the strength for it... I shall accept.

[Was he the same age as she? Slightly older, perhaps? It was difficult to tell, for Sieglinde was about the smallest a girl of her years could be without worrying for some illness, and years of bound feet had made her slim and light, lacking even the most basic of muscle strength she'd only recently begun to rebuild by trying to walk on her own.

Shakily, (not just because this was entirely improper!), she placed her hands on his (bare!) shoulders, taking his assistance to clamber upon his back, wrapping her bandage-covered legs weakly about his waist.]

Is this alright... ?

[She strove to keep her voice level and unflustered, despite the fact that she was speaking most intimately into his ear- by neccesary of position, truly.]

[In contrast to her frailty - so like a flower she is, one whose stem is too thin to hold up the weight of its bloom - his visage boasts the vitality of youth. His muscles are lean and ropy while still he grows in leaps and lurches, but already they lend firm edges to the contours of his body. Beside her skin so creamy and pale it seems to hold the reflection of the moon, his glows bronze from the sun's warm embrace. While she had been detained by her mangled feet, he had passed as many years beating the earth with his own feet so swift, swimming streams, climbing trees, taming horses, working his spear.

Indeed he has strength enough to carry her quite comfortably, for such is the gift of his mother's divine blood. When she pulls herself atop him he holds steady her thighs, and realizes in a rush that where now his hands grip lies hidden beneath her skirts. Here she is smooth and soft, and although he ought not let his thoughts linger, he rather likes it. Her breath by his ear too is sweet, although his cheeks turn warm for it.

Achilles rises now, and she with him. He clears his throat ere he speaks, his words merry with a teasing lilt.]

Fret not, for you are so light I feel as if upon my back I carry not a girl but a bundle of feathers.

[So speaking, he sets their course for the unicorn which proudly tosses its head farther over the fields.]

That is good to hear...

[Even though Sieglinde knows that physically it really isn't likely, there is a moment she is convinced that he would be able to detect the heat of her through her clothes, to his skin, breath coming a bit fast not in exertion but tittilation, the rush of excitement that came of such innocent things as that when you were of the delicate age between child and adult. More used to being carried in the crook of an arm by men twice or thrice his size, she was less used to this sort of piggyback, but she knew the basics.

Instinctively, her weak legs lighten about him, thighs sink into the cradle of his hands, and she wraps her richly sleeved arms about his neck, trying to focus on... The actual unicorn.]

Then let us approach it most slowly and respectfully... We must not offend it.

[She'd had within her labs, in her own world, an item labeled "alicorn". The unicorn was valuable in the workings of magic, particularly the hair and horn... But it is so handsome there, glistening in the field, beautiful and aloof both, that she finds herself hoping pointlessly thar the alicorn she'd used had been taken from one already dead. If it had even been real.]

[Even beneath her added weight, his footsteps fall softly and nimbly upon the grass, making no more sound than a gentle rain which caresses the land rather than pound it beneath a deluge. This art he has mastered while flitting through the rows of trees which enclose Mount Pelion in a verdant haze, among the rocks and streams which carve its shape.

Achilles too tries to turn his focus to the task at hand, rather than allowing his thoughts to wander along with this girl so strange and lovely. There may come a time for such daydreaming later. As they near the gleaming white creature, he lowers his head to show his reverence, and then he can rely on only the slope of the earth to determine his course.]

Be my eyes then, for I do not wish that the creature take my gaze for a challenge. Has it moved from where is stands?

[These words he whispers to Sieglinde, no louder than the wind which rustles the grass over the meadow.]

[He really was quite strong, this boy- she thought she had a good estimate of other people's strengths based on extensive knowledge of anatomy alone, and yet he walked so easily, even picking his way silently across the ground.

The whisper tone wasn't helping her concentration, but she did her best, breath momentarily frozen in her narrow chest when the unicorn lifted its head, mane blowing in the gentle breeze. They'd made eye contact, and it's eyes seemed so... very wise.]

Ah... no, it has merely raised it's head. It is watching...

[She felt naked somehow before such a creature, like it could know her somehow without her even saying a thing... but it had not moved yet to retreat, and her legs tightened a bit further around Achilles' waist in anxious anticipation.]

Approach... another five paces... very slowly, please-

[She carefully untangled one of her hands from clinging to him, holding it ready to reach out to the unicorn if it allowed them to get close... or to tap Achilles and signal for him to halt if the beast began to spook.]

[He steals ever closer, taking care to slow his footsteps that he might appear as if he merely drifts through the softly swaying grass, and in his head he marks his paces. When at last his feet still upon the ground, he can see at the edge of his vision only the gleaming hooves of the creature which stands before them. He dares not lift his head to meet the unicorn's eye, for fear that he may spook it: such is the modesty he would learn to imitate well a year from now when in the house of Lycomedes he is hidden.

There he waits for what Sieglinde shall do. The unicorn holds as still as wind that is stifled by the gods in their disdain, and in the silence Achilles imagines that it is judging the two of them. His heartbeat is loud within his breast as in him swells the feeling that something of great importance shall soon come to pass.]

[Sieglinde didn't realize she was holding her breath until she felt the burn in her lungs and shakily exhaled, her hand trembling as she reaches for the unicorn's forehead.]

Please excuse me, noble creature, and my companion as well... we mean no disrespect, merely to guide you back to your home...

[She didn't know, for a moment there, if she would succeed in touching it, if it might not just dance away on light hooves...

But then her fingers touch against its white mane, brushing gently to move it from its brow, feeling a tingle of power as she briefly touched the horn upon its head, eyes locked with the unicorn and unable to tear her gaze away.]

Ah- it is allowing it... perhaps it is safe to raise your head now...

[At last he lifts his noble brow to meet the unicorn's eyes, which strike him for all the wisdom they seem to hold in their dark glittering depths. He cannot explain what bestows this impression upon him, yet he feels it in his heart all the same. This moment is unlike any that he has yet experienced: the air feels still and silent, as if all that lies beyond the three of them has ebbed to nothing, and he finds that his breath has caught in his throat.

Achilles too wishes he could reach out to brush his fingers against the creature's brilliant mane, yet he must hold the girl steady. He reasons too that he ought not test his luck lest he invoke the unicorn's disdain.]

There is nothing to fear - we shall return you to your home, and once there I shall not allow those fearsome beasts to lay harm against you. This I vow on my father's worthy name.

[For a long moment, no response comes in the silence - but finally the unicorn nods its head and whinnies, the sound more like the song of a lyre than the timber of an ordinary horse.

[Sieglinde had never imagined to meet a unicorn, let alone in this manner... yet as timeless as the moment seemed, she knew it would have to end eventually. They lead the noble beast back to the stables according to the creature's graceful pace, one of Sieglinde's hands on its withers and one curled at Achilles' shoulder, connecting the three of them for the time.

Until the stall of the door closes, and the magical moment ebbs away, leaving her somewhat disappointed... until she remembers that she's still piggyback astride a rather handsome wild boy.

Right.]

Ah... it seems I was able to assist after all, that is fortuitous.

[Fingers tapped a nervous little flit of a rhythm across bare shoulders, remembering to blush a bit.]

I suppose you may set me down now.

[With this task triumphed over and the unicorn returned to its proper place, he feels satisfied even when vanishes the spell which had seemed suspended upon the air. In the same instant that she remembers her scandalous situation, he too remembers that astride his back is a girl whose breath tickles the curls by his ear, and he is quick to answer.]

Very well - then I shall set you down upon the grass which waits outside this stable.

[Toward the gaping doors of the stable he sets to walking.]

I must thank you for your aid, for here was a task for which I alone was not fit. Thus it is fortunate that I came by the knoll where you sat.

[Soon they are outside once more, and there he crouches halfway so that she can ease herself down from her perch.]

Fate is... Quite the unpredictable mistress, that much can be said.

[Though it's hard to wonder about such topics, the percentage chance that a certain person (her) with a certain skill (was virginity a skill?), would be in a certain place (the grassy knoll against the castle wall) at a certain time (not a half hour ago), for a certain reason (that she couldn't remember- why had she been in the forest?), when her mind is far more excited by the prospect of getting to know her handsome young friend...

Whose name she had yet to know. Intent on asking, she knows it means she must introduce herself as well, a bit too quick to try and get off his back and regain her own feet, when said feet were only newly made again for walking... And still didn't excel at it, lacking feeling to aid in natural balance and how one held oneself.]

My name is-

[Is as far as she gets before her still weak legs fail her halfway through what was likely going to be a curtsy, and she stumbles forward, trying to catch herself on- well. He's closest.]

Do be careful now--

[Ordinarily he might have caught her in her fall and held her upright against his lean yet sturdy frame: such is the strength and grace granted by his mother's divine blood. However, at present the grass on which he stands is slick with dew beneath his feet, and so the small step he takes to accommodate her force sends him slipping. For all the fleetness of his feet, he cannot catch his balance in time. Down he crashes with a cry startled from his lips, and with the girl in his grasp.

Flat upon his back Achilles groans for the sharp aches hammered into his body. Sieglinde's weight is little in his estimation but still he is all too aware of her bearing down upon him while his legs are splayed and tangled with hers. Quite suddenly he feels his cheeks grow hot as would kindling upon the hearth, and his voice feels small inside his throat as so rarely it does.]

Are you unharmed?

[There was likely a reason it was said you should always have your wits about you in the field. This was... The battlefield of an altogether different kind than war, but it still applies. Apparently.

Sieglinde is not sure in the end who elbowed who, who tripped worse, all she knows is one second she thinks she might just right herself and the next, with a bit-back cry, she's a tumble of heavy skirts and legs and hair, her long, dark lockes tumbling down from her headdress and forming a sort of curtain about them that led all of it a rather scandalous feeling almost like privacy.

Her own cheeks grown flush in a mix of embarrassment, shame, and excitement, staring down at him with emerald eyes wide, it takes her a moment to process the simple question. Harmed, was she unharmed-]

I am most fine...

[Thanks to his breaking her fall, really, and she's not sure why she's whispering it, but she is, or why she hasn't moved to pick herself up yet, she hasn't, one hand awkwardly sliding along the grass and the other on her companion's bare chest. Oh.]

M- my name is Sieglinde Sullivan.

[She forgets her usual titles, The Green Witch, Lord of- in favor of just a name, altogether frozen and for some reason still astride him rather than waiting until they'd picked themselves up first to return to introductions. Up close, he was still just as youth fully dashing...]

[She is far from the only one whose wit have scattered completely.

Her whispered words are warm upon his lips, and when he inhales the scent of her hair fills him, a scent which he cannot name but it is sweet and clean and he delights in it. Her eyes seem to him like pools which reflect the greenery of the trees that arch overheard, and for all the color that floods his face he finds that he cannot tear his gaze away. Her lips hover just inches above him, like a fruit that dangles from the branch, so tempting in its ripeness, and he wonders with a rush of secret excitement what it might be like to kiss her.

Her voice shakes him from such reveries and he has sense enough to find his own voice that he may return the introduction.]

I am Achilles.

[He breathes the words, suspended as he is in the curious magic of the girl, whose name is strange in his ears and all the more lovely for it. He forgets the formalities of naming his father, and so too does he forget to ask if she might need help righting herself, for at present he minds not that they lie in this ungraceful heap upon the grass.]

[If this had happened just a month or so before, Sieglinde might have been less receptive to such an unexpectedly amorous mood, certainly not from just a boy, no matter how handsome that boy might be. But that had been before her... spring awakening, of sorts. Perhaps it had only been two kisses, and an entirely overactive imagination, but it had been enough to open her eyes to the possibility of... certain options she had overlooked in the past.

If she just leaned forward, just a little bit, their lips might meet. Nothing could be said against that, surely, it was just a kiss... quite innocent, really, when you thought about it... it needn't lead to anything else, and who would fault her for such play, when really, she had been behaving herself so very well compared to some in their team?

He says something, it's probably his name, but she doesn't really listen so much as watch the movement of his mouth, impulsively closing that small distance between them in order to follow the knotted up impulse making her chest tighten in a way she finds both sweet and painful. Hardly experienced in these matters, more than a proper kiss it is simple a closed press of lips to his, her heart pounding in a way she'd swear was audible if she didn't know the scientific realities of the human body better, but-

Wait.]

Achilles?

[Murmured somewhat robotically, brain stalling, body frozen where she was and suddenly and blatantly aware of skirts a mess, weak legs akimbo, hand on his chest, her dark hair spilled over his shoulders, her mouth on his-]

Achilles, son of Peleus, Achilles?

[In one moment, he is held aloft by the bliss of her lips which fall so suddenly upon him, seizing him by surprise although the temptation had bloomed in his thoughts. The kiss is small and hard like a seed not yet germinated, yet it is a kiss all the same. For this invitation his heart beats all the more loudly, and his blood surges through him in an ecstatic current for no greater reason than the impulses to which one so ripe with youth might be given.

In the next, he is recalled from this zenith by her question that in his muddled mind finds little purchase. His countenance makes plain his bleary bemusement as he gives his answer.]

You have heard of my father?

[For he is yet unknown outside of rumors which have begun to flutter in through the ports of the many Achaean nations, rumors of a boy destined to be the strongest warrior of his time. His tone too suggests a second question in the shadow of the first: for what possible reason could this matter be so pressing? With his hands still upon her waist he rues that he has missed his chance to kiss her in return, to savor the softness of her lips, which is somehow different from that of Patroclus' lips although he cannot yet name why. The sensations which knot inside him are far too fine and tangled to straighten out for the present.]

EVENT ★ BACK TO THE FUTURE

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