capencowl2020 | Multiverse Theory's a Bitch

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Multiverse Theory's a Bitch | Open To All

WHO: Darin Altway and YOU!
WHERE: Around The City
WHEN: throughout event
WHAT: Darin's has managed to escape his captors and fight off their indoctrination, but at a terrible cost
WARNINGS: mentions of brainwashing and intense, likely graphic violence

The last few weeks have been a horrific blur.

No sooner did Darin arrive in this familiar-yet-different world, but he was suddenly approached and led to a facility that promised him 'answers.' He had no idea what sort of 'answers' he'd be getting.

For the last few weeks, Darin has been captive of the Children of the Verunta; a cult of 'his' own making. You see, the Darin Altway of this world wasn't so lucky. Where our Darin had managed to find peace and camaraderie, where he'd managed to find acceptance and love, the Darin of this perverted reality had fallen too far. He'd given in to Diomuhr and those who came to believe in and worship his destructive power became a hellish cult, a personal army that indoctrinated people into their order or laid waste to those who refused to accept Diomuhr as their savior. Believing Darin to be his alternate self, they sought to restore their leader to his former glory by showing him the things he had done.

It was more than Darin could bear. He escaped.

Roaming the alleyways at night, Darin stumbles about, digging through trash and dumpsters for some kind of food. Sustenance. Anything. He looks haggard, starved, like a frightened animal. His clothes are tattered and stained with dried blood. Likely his own, but there's really no way of knowing, is there? He avoids light sources as much as he can out of fear of being spotted and his most defining feature, his stark blue hair?

It's been dyed a sickly black with a combination of oil and mud. It's matted and tangled and messed in every which way, and only bits of blue peek through. Hearing footsteps approach, he draws a jagged piece of metal from his pocket in defense.

"Who's there?! Tell me who you are, dammit!"

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The thing with being a Cait Sidhe, really, is that Tybalt's footsteps are only heard when he wants them to be. But sometimes that cue is the better option. People don't often appreciate being sneaked up on, especially people who look like they've been through the better part of Hell and back.

Like the man in front of him.

The shadows where Darin is hiding, however, are a cat's general domain, so Tybalt isn't worried about the makeshift weapon that's been drawn. He steps out of a particularly thick piece of shadow on Darin's left like he's materialized there (and he has, in a way, especially given that the footsteps Darin heard would have come from the exact opposite direction). His hands are held up in the near-universal signal for I come in peace.

"Easy, friend. Whatever may be hunting you, it's not me. And I'd rather not return home to my lady bloodied, as it weakens my case of scolding her for the practice. I'm Tybalt."

He looks entirely human, courtesy of an illusion spell hiding his more obviously fae features. "And you look like you could use assistance." More than looks. Tybalt can smell the blood on him.

The man's introduction does little to assuage Darin's obvious fears and he stumbles out of hiding, still brandishing the jagged piece of metal.

"Can you send me home? Can you get me the hell out of here?!"

His tone is frantic and from the way he keeps swallowing, it's clear his throat is dry. He appears to pause for a moment before making another request.

"Allura. Do you know anyone named Allura? Do you know where she is??"

"None of us can find our ways home yet, though with the Porter awake once more there's some sliver of hope newly rekindled that the possibility may once more exist."

Tybalt doesn't move from where he stands, still keeping his hands within sight. He recognizes a cornered creature when he sees one, the familiar feral light in the other man's face. Based on the questions, this man is another meta, which means whatever has happened to him, it's far from safe out in the open.

"I can, however, offer a change of location from this alley -- somewhere hidden, somewhere safe. Somewhere with food and drink and a shower."

Which it would appear his new acquaintance could greatly use. He hesitates at the name, before shaking his head.

"I don't know the name, I'm sorry. But many new faces have been arriving here, for the first time in years. If she is here, however, finding lost things is my fiancee's specialty."

"I'm not going anywhere with anyone. Not again. How do I know you're not with the rest of the Children?!"

His voice gets more agitated, louder than he means for it to get. And maybe it's that little agitation that startles another alley cat to run away further down the alley.

It's really all Darin needs to set him off. He believes Tybalt isn't alone and that's all he needs to act now. Magical energy pulses down his leg into the ground.

"Get away from me! All of you!"

The concrete between them erupts into a breakwall of spikes made of rebar and cement.

Eyebrows lifting. "So you're not a government refugee. Interesting."

But the Children. Ah. He's heard of that. He makes a face now. "I'm with no one but myself and my October." He takes a step back as the wall appears between them, then another and once he's made it to the shadows he vanishes entirely.

Only to reappear in the next moment in the shadows cast by an overhang behind Darin, leaning back against a wall with an insufferably casual posture, the cat who fully intends

"You've been hurt. That's clear to see. I recognize the look on your face, of a man who has been caged against his will. I've seen it regard me from the mirror for too long now. If you don't want to go anywhere, I won't force the issue. But we are the only two here -- well, save for that stray calico you frightened off. She was only hoping to find a rat to chase, however, not to join our conversation."

A shrug.

"Can you at least give me your name? If I encounter your Allura, I imagine she'd want to know you are here."

Everything comes down to blood. No matter where she is and who she chases the blood shows her the way. She had noticed the Children of Verunta changing tactics at the same time the scent of their leader’s magic returned to the streets. But it didn’t smell right.

His power used to smell only of heated metal. Now as she follows the blood calling to her...she can taste the bite of the wind blowing in from the sea. Until she finds him, and metal flashes in the light.

October looks like any other human being, brown hair, tall for a lady with a leather jacket. She holds up both her hands. “I’m October.” She waits for a moment then says, “And I can ask the same of you. The moment your magic appeared on these streets the Children changed tactics.”

She doesn’t move closer. This could get bad. She can heal at a rapid rate but she needs him to stay still. She needs answers. “I just want to ask some questions, then we can part ways and you can do whatever you want to do. Fair?”

Unfortunately, in his fragile state, Darin mistakes the voice behind him as another person; another assailant with Tybalt. So he whips around and drives his heel outward in a devastatingly strong kick; his body moves on pure instinct before his mind can catch up. Whether or not the attack lands, Darin finds himself leaping atop the nearest fire escape, perching on the iron like a gargoyle.

"My name is Dio—rin. Darin. Darin Altway! My name is Darin Altway!"

His voice carries the tone of one whose trying more to convince himself than the other party in the conversation.

"How do you know I have magic?! No one's supposed to know!"

His voice is frantic and hoarse. He lowers himself to the ground. Whether he's ready to flee or attack, both outcomes are equally possible.

"...What do you want from me? Why does everyone want something from me here?!"

Life isn’t fair. She has known that for most of her life but it never makes moments like this easier. Toby slowly sits down and in his view she snaps her fingers. Her illusions fall away with the scent of cut grass and bloody copper filling the air. “I’m Dochas Sidhe. To my kind of Fae all magic has a scent.”

Without her illusions her features are sharper than a human being’s. From the angle of her ears at the cut of her jaw and even her eyes fog colored in a way no human eyes can match. Blonde streaks run through her hair like the reflection of light on lake water. “And I told you, I just want a few questions answered. You can choose to do it or not. This is entirely optional. I can continue looking into this without your input. But it helps me and maybe, it can help you.”

She takes a breath. There it is again the scent of heated metal and the ocean breeze. She has the right person. “And by the root and the branch, the oak and the thorn, by Oberon and Maeve our lost king and queen, I swear to you that I will keep your secret about your magic. What I am sometimes reveals things people don’t want to share. You won’t be the first I keep secrets for. ...can you tell me one thing regardless of what you decide? You came from the Porter very recently, didn’t you.”

The drop in the illusion appears to give him pause and, for a moment, there's a hint of warmth in his eyes. Maybe it's the angled ears, reminding him of someone who he so desperately wishes to see.

It's enough for him to lower his makeshift weapon. Enough to make his hunched shoulders slouch in exhaustion. The alarm leaves his features and weariness sets in as he slinks back into the shadows a bit more.

"...I...I think so. My sense of time is...it's...I don't know how long I've been here. It feels like a few days...or weeks...I'm not sure."

He pauses. This stranger was kind enough to give him their name. He should at least oblige in kind.

"My name is Dio—...rin. It's Darin. I'm Darin Altway."

He raises a muddied hand to his head and shakes it vigorously, to clear the haze.

“Well, I can tell you how long the Porter has been active. We might be able to piece it together from there.” It’s worth a try. He looks wrung out and she remembers back when she first won free of her own nightmare. Back then anything that let her find the pieces was something to hold onto.

Even if she wanted nothing to do with what caused the damage. She visibly relaxes a little bit with her hands resting on her folded legs. “It started with the anniversary event. They do it every year...but this time the Porter went active. That was eleven days ago. At first the government didn’t know what to do or expect it. Now they have an active crew waiting for people.”

She has that tone of someone who is delivering bad news. Toby tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear as she says, “I’m a private investigator in the public eye, anyway. I was on a case when I smelled your magic in the streets. I actually don’t know what day that was but, the important part is you got away, Darin. Whatever else happens, You got that far.”

"You...You're from here. From this world...?"

It's a weird question. If the Porter was active here, it was likely that this person wasn't a native of this world at all. In fact, he'd seen enough to come to the conclusion she was likely ported in, like he was ported in back...home. Well, the reality he had come to call 'home' anyway.

But he'd made a bargain with Clotho. He gave up his right to leave the reality he was in. What did this mean?

He had so many questions. So many concerns.

"Do you know about the Children of the Verunta then?"

If this person had been brought here like him or had been previously settled, this was at least a decent place to start.

Toby nods once, “I do. They tend to come up a lot on the streets. Depending on the day. And no. I was brought here by the Porter ages ago before it shut off without any warning.” Why did that happen? She doesn’t know. That has bothered her since it happened and no answers were found.

“The Government was quiet at first but the ‘metas’ realized we could really die after that...they acted and not in a good way.” She closes her eyes. Back then she and Tybalt had watched and braces themselves. The nightmare to the Fae was being exposed and humans knowing they exist. This has been somehow worse. There is no way to say it to soften the blow.

And he looks a little fragile. Well. She can at least be vague. Toby says softly, “A lot of bad things started happening and they haven’t stopped since then. I can tell you the details if you feel up to that or it can wait.”

"So this really is a different timeline...or...reality. Ugh, I hate multiverse theory..."

He rubs his grimy hand over his features and slouches against the wall, dropping to sit behind a dumpster.

"Hit me with the details. Also...I have a question. You said you could sense my magic? What else can you sense about me...?"

Cait Sidhe are fast, and thankfully stronger than they look. Tybalt dodges more out of instinct than anything else, but he's not quite quick enough to dodge the blow entirely, though at least manages enough that it glances rather than hits him full on -- especially because he's quite certain he would've been flung through the wall. There's a moment where his illusion almost breaks, but the human mask holds.

He doesn't pursue, looking up at man, frowning. Cornered creatures. He should have known better.

"Darin," he echoes, noticing that slip up and focusing on the repeated name instead. "I'd say it was lovely to meet you, Darin, but the bruise currently blooming on my rig cage begs to differ. But even so..."

A pause, and he looks up. "You'd do well to take a breath. This will only draw attention to us. You are not the only one hunted here. These Children are no force I'd want to encounter. But the government is after us Metas who refuse to march to their beat as well, and their hospitality is... severely lacking."

She slips a little deeper into the shadows. The security has been tighter lately and experience with street life in her teens is a grim reminder how fast a seemingly safe dead drop or meeting could go bad fast. “I can tell you’re more than human if that’s what you’re asking. And since I know that I’ll tell you something about me. My father was human, my mother obviously wasn’t.”

It’s fair. One secret for a secret. “And I could tell you weren’t your counterpart from this universe because your magic has two scents. They’re balanced like scales and his...wasn’t.” Would telling him that make him feel better? She has no idea. All she can do is give him the truth and the rest is up to him.

“Anyway, the details. So, the government made people register as metas. Some went along with it. Some didn’t. They figured out how to change memories and mess with people’s heads. They call it processing and people who back from that...they’re themselves but, they’re bound. And they don’t know that. You have your people who joined willingly too.”

Did she use the right words to explain it? Maybe. Maybe not. Toby reaches out and gathers some of the shadows the dust in her hands. If the patrols get close they’ll need cover. “And don’t mind what I’m doing. If a patrol gets close I’ll cast some illusions and we’ll have to quietly walk away before they realize some power was used.”

For a moment, it looks like Darin's features are straining. Like he's fighting something deep inside of him.

"I know. The Children want me to lead a revolution. To topple the Government. Free the metas."

There's a long silence as Darin considers what's being said. What this woman says aligns with what the Children told him. What they wanted him to do. What they thought he'd returned for.

"Did you know about the other me...? The one who led the Children of the Verunta...? Did you know about the things he'd done...?"

A brief pause.

"Is that why you're after me...?"

"I came because I needed to know what changed." She says as she looks at him squarely. Hiding the truth from him won't be kind. Darin deserves to have all the tools he can get if he plans to face this. "I know what he's done. What he was. Our magic changes when we change. Darin, it communicates exactly who we are."

She raises her hands and touches the edge of her ears. "When something major shifts, it shifts." Her hands fall back to her sides as she says. "So I did what I do best. I followed the blood straight to you. I didn't have a plan for when I found you besides see and decide from there."

"A worthy goal, but the ends do not justify the sorts of means the Children would use. We'd be trading one oppressor for another, wouldn't you say? Darin?"

He can see that struggle and it's not exactly comforting. Still, Tybalt holds his ground for the time being, watching. "There is a better way."

Brandon hadn't thought he was being loud enough to be heard over the other man's own scrambling. But, then, there is an awful lot of debris in this alley. Hard to avoid stepping on something.

His response to the demand is to simply...stop, his back against the brick wall. He's not here to confront anyone. At least, not right now, and not someone who clearly looks to be another escapee of some kind.

There's a long bout of silence. It's oppressive. It's like how light can't escape the pull of a black hole. There's a gravity there, with Darin perched atop the fire escape, features obscured by dirt and grime and dried blood.

There's an unreadable expression on his face. Is he weighing his options? Talking to himself? Talking to the other being inside of him? It's almost like watching a computer try and open a file when its processor is bogged down. He's just eerily still.

Finally, he speaks up.

"I'm listening. What's this 'better way?'"

"So you wanted to know which way the change in the winds blew. If the change was favorable or worse."

Nothing in his tone suggests he's bitter. After all, it was pragmatic. There was a shift in the power dynamic so she wanted to know which way the shift was leaning.

"So, now that you've found me, what have you decided to do with me?"

The silence does nothing to assuage Darin's fears.

"Well?? Are you with the Children?! Gonna bring me back?! Try and force me to take my place at the head of the order?!"

He swallows the lump in his throat, passing the metal piece from one hand to the other, nervously, as if he's not sure from which direction an attack might come from.

"Come on! Tell me the truth!"

All very unsettling, but Tybalt is used to the inhuman, to beings that don't operate by the standards of normal everyday interaction. Or at least, that's what he tells himself, as he keeps equally still, watching from behind the illusory mask of his own humanity.

"We don't put our trust in corrupt governments or dark groups with uncertain motivations. We save ourselves, take up our own arms against our own seas of troubles, not for control or dominion, but to reclaim our own freedom... and find our ways home, wherever those homes may be."

Tybalt lifts a hand in something like a shrug. "Easier said than done, of course. Most things that need doing tend to be. But the Porter is awake. Doors are opened again that have long been boarded shut. I'm a cat, after all, and there's little that puts a cat's fur up more than a closed door."

Edited 2020-01-25 23:08 (UTC)

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