Entry tags:
WEEK FIVE MINGLE
nerak: week 5 mingle
at your service
at your service
25 Remain
Waking up this morning will reveal some unfamiliar surroundings. While Camebit had an autumnal chill in the air, things are a little different, now - the air is frigid, and waking up is an adventure, considering you are swaddled to the nines and cozied right up to your roomie of the week (where you have one, anyways). Everything around you is made of ice and packed snow, fogged glass and porcelain, and it is freezing. Who thought this was a good idea? Even the brisk chill of Camebit in the skies above everything was more forgiving than this! This isn't a transition! Whose manager can you speak to..?
About that.

You have to trek out of the lodging, and over into the building made of actual wood and stone, to actually see your Watchers of the week. They're all dressed in their full cloaks again to combat the chill, even in this building, although both Rameel and Satariel are standing much closer to Yomiel than they usually do - much like they had in Ahnkeen, actually.
"Good morning and welcome to Nerak! If you've ever wondered what it was like to stay at an ice hotel, then you're in luck!" Rameel says with moderate flourish as they make sure to keep close to Yomiel—their daemon currently not found anywhere near them as they make the announcement. Looks like they're without their black box of musical wonders this morning.
While the other two Watchers press close, Yomiel's daemon has wrapped itself around their neck like a polecat scarf. Warm. Arm cradled gently against their chest, they pause to glance at Satariel before greeting everyone. "Try to be careful. The ice can get slippery, especially when you're all looking like that and leaving a mess everywhere you go." Whatever that means.
Satariel seems a little more subdued than usual but offers everyone a smile, daemon bear-shaped against their back, large head peering around at everyone while they take in the travelers that come to join them here in the hotel lobby. Their cloak is completely closed around them - not even the front of their dress can be seen, and they're clearly holding it tightly shut. "Please be nice to the hotel staff - if I catch any of you being rude to them, I'll kick you clear across the tundra before sticking you in their outdoor 'jail' for timeout. We're guests, but they're working hard to accommodate us, alright?"

With the new week, travelers will find that they no longer the adorable animal features they did in Camebit, but something much less cute. Injuries from their pasts have come back to haunt them, major or minor, and they cannot be healed. The good thing is that they don't seem to hurt or really take a toll on the travelers at all - at least, not until they're touched, and then both you the other will feel the pain from the moment the wound was inflicted. This effect lasts all week.
full navigation

✨
locations ✨
statuses ✨
profiles ✨
audiences ✨
private conversations ✨ murder proposals ✨ curfew ✨ daemons ✨

private conversations ✨ murder proposals ✨ curfew ✨ daemons ✨

...?
Their bodies unmoving, still, and covered with a shimmering gold with red undertones. Feathers representing the dawn to the night scattered every which way.
no subject
their current state is far, far cry from how they normally hold themselves with their heavily layered dark robes ripped to near shreds. their hood torn exposing a distinct lack of blond long locks of hair and in its place shorter tuffs of golden hair. yet, ironic to all of this, their mask is still secure to their face. and as they continue to lay on their side, a pool shimmering gold collects underneath them and staining their back as its apparent that they've lost one of their wings leaving only a bleeding hole where it would have been. the state of their other wing isn't too much better with a few flight feathers missing.
the damage doesn't end there as their right arm lays at an awkward and almost impossible angle on the ground completely still. not even the slightest movement to show that they're drawing any breath. if anyone is waiting for them to jump up and yell "psych!" with a laugh might be waiting for a while as the gold shimmering pool grows larger and exposes yet another injury under their robes around their legs. there is still no movement from them and their daemon nowhere to be seen.
Rameel is dead. ]
no subject
Hey, dead guys, if you've got a heal now's the time.
[ WHAT THE HELL DID HE SAY TO YOU RAMEEL? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[BINCH]
[DON'T YOU DARE DIE, HELLO??????]
(no subject)
no subject
specifically rameel’s.
he’ll open their mouth and, unceremoniously dump the potion in. hope they don’t choke? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
though their mask is still in place (if a little off kilter), their cloak is in tatters, and short locks of gold cling to their skin with sweat and melting snow under a hood that barely holds on. there's something clutched close to their chest, smeared with dust and blood from their hands - a book that glows a faint gold of its own, the lettering completely unrecognizable to anyone here. they've curled themselves around it, as if to protect it from prying eyes or wandering hands, so it might be easy to miss the wound in their abdomen, if not for the dark spot slowly spreading on their clothes.
more obvious cuts and slashes pepper their arms, legs, their back - all perfectly survivable, save for the slash on their throat. it bleeds slowly, an odd mixture of blood and golden dust collecting on the front of their shirt and dripping into the snow.
Yomiel is dead. ]
no subject
Yomiel-
[He touches next to the slash to his throat, expecting it to hurt him in return.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
We will... Try to stop the bleeding first. May he put this book aside? Or will Yomiel have a death grip? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
If she still feels like she doesn’t have a heart, she feels it here. Sinking into the depths of her chest, causing her rib cage to grow tight. The words don’t come to her throat, initially, but once she’s at their side she’ll just…
God, she doesn’t even know. Her brain is blitzing out. ]
Yomiel — Hey, what do I do? [ She’s trying not to cry?? Literally what the fuck.
Reze grabs them by their shoulder, shaking lightly. ] Please, you can’t —
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Do they have a pulse? Their daemon is still here so she is hoping, but. Holy fuck.]
If the dead can hear us, now would be a really good time to do that thing you told Yuri about.
(no subject)
no subject
they don't move, after.
for the entire week, they've done their best to keep their cloak enclosed around them, but now it's tattered and freely open, showcasing a bloody mess all on its own. with the way that their body is angled after landing, twisted, it makes it easier to see that there's still spreading blood both front and back of their midsection, parallel one another, like they were run through. it could simply be the effect of the week - if not for the fact the way their bodice sticks to them, tacky with blood and dust, a little concave on both sides of them like there's a hole underneath.
their hair has spilled out of their hood, golden curls that start to darken at the ends as if the dust has begun fading due to sheer length of strands. more blood and flaking dust is on their knuckles, their forearms, the exposed portions of collar and chest, and their wings. both of them look to be at bad angles - one broken, one dislocated. in raven form, their daemon can be seen in their hood, just as unmoving and losing dust like reverse rainfall as blood pools on the snow. neither chest moves.
Satariel is dead. ]
no subject
[But compared with how he was previously, he's rushing over with alarm to bend over Satariel.]
My dear...my dear fellow...s-someone, get some healing abilities!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Alphinaud rushes over, the first he approaches Satariel. He kneels down, cupping a hand underneath her head. ]
Oh, gods. M— Miss Satariel, pray, say something if you are able to hear me.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
But he looks up from his spot, directed at everyone: ]
If they're alive, I can heal one of them completely. I need to know who is the worse off.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[ Dokja comes as quickly as he can, even though he really is useless without any healing, but he can at least try and use any of his bandages to stifle some bleeding. More importantly the obvious hole but there is just so?? much??? ]
Oh, Satariel. You've survived before, you... [ You're strong enough to do so again, aren't you? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Alisaie is bolting to Satariel when they land, dropping down to her knees next to them. Her vision is still so blurry--she shoves up her sunglasses; it doesn't matter how bright it is, she needs to be able to see the colors proper--but there's so much blood, so much mess.
This is going to be awful, but Alisaie grits her teeth and starts inspecting their wounds, brushing her fingers over everything. Twelve forfend, let one of these give her the sudden blinding pain they've felt throughout the rest of the week; let some of this be the world they're in and not all damage from the angels...
But as she's questing, she's lifting her head to shout.]
Brother! We've need of your magicks!
[(It's fine, he's already here, this is all going on at the same time w/e)]
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
ROXIS, GET SOMEONE TO HEAL THE WATCHERS NOW!!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Joonghyuk carefully reorganizes them so that they aren't in twisted angles, their hood collecting their hair like they weren't just a mess falling down. They can lie down peacefully, comfortably, or as comfortable as one can when dead as he cleans up their wounds and adds pressure for now. For a moment, he holds their hand tightly as he goes through what they all can do. There are healing items, right? It seems like people are divvying up... ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
Allen doesn't know what to do, so he's kind of. trying to keep out of the way but.]
(no subject)
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)