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stellafortunalogs2021-07-15 11:29 am
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july mid-month event

July Mid-Month Event
Welcome to Teyvat - a vast magical world of adventure.
Two weeks of unease is all Liyue gets to experience before their world is almost turned upside down.

Those with sharp eyes will notice a marked decline in Fatui appearances around Liyue. As for the cause...? These Fatui will now accost you, Traveler, seeking answers to the whereabouts of Rex Lapis' Gnosis. You'll have to flee from them, or otherwise convince them to back off by force. It seems they're very persistent, and their stubbornness is borne from their duty given by the Tsaritsa. Should they fail, her wrath will fall upon them instead. Surely, you can understand, right?

It's a race against time for the civilians to climb Mount Tianheng towards relative safety, and for the Millelith to combat smaller water monsters that crawl out from the ocean. The Jade Chamber hovering above Liyue sails towards the storm instead, a last-ditch defensive effort by the Adepti and the Qixing together.

Alas, Osial fires a final blast that fractures the Jade Chamber. Just as all hope seems lost, Forneus' voice sounds in your mind.
It's not over yet. Focus your mind... think of your companions, your dreams, and your wish to liberate this world. Let your hopes illuminate the way forward!
Golden light begins to surround your body, coalescing into an orb in your palm. The light streams out from your hands and into the sky, piercing the demon god's body as a multitude of bright spears. Osial howls as familiar runes appear all over its body, fracturing it in a distinctive manner similar to glass. You glance at the Adepti - none of them seem to have expected this, but none of them seem to disapprove of it, either.
The Jade Chamber is still breaking apart, though. Better leave before it's too late - the Adepti will carry you down to safety.
State of the World
As planned, the Fatui have awakened Osial from its watery prison beneath Guyun Stone Forest. A confrontation with the demon god is inevitable - in the past, Rex Lapis was the one who sealed it away. This time, humanity has to prove that it can stand on its own without the intervention of gods. Forneus will also step in this time, using the power of your adversary to alter the course of history once and for all. After all, the only way to kill a god is to take their aspect away from them... or by repurposing it for something else.
There's also the matter of helping Liyue clean up after that near-tsunami. But this isn't the first time you've helped with disaster relief in Teyvat, yes?
Questions about this event can be asked below!
no subject
He sheathes his sword and reaches to grab Lutha by the collar, dragging him ahead,)
Let's go.
(Further, he implies, and further they go but it isn't to the next fight. Instead, it's to an area, slightly out of the way with minimal covering. Just barely enough to keep them out of sight, not enough to really keep out the rain or safe for long but enough for him to catch his breath and recover some of his energy.)
I need to rest. (He says, gold eyes focused on Lutha, intent on reading him,) I'm quite old, after all...
(Spoken lightly, like he's joking,)
Don't let your guard down.
(After all, this isn't the best place.)
no subject
Lutha sharply shoves at the grip on his shirt as he's dragged along, his amputated arm doing little other than causing a nuisance and maybe some bruises.
When Tsuru drags them to cover instead of battle, Lutha looks him over, as though expecting a wound of some sort. On confirmation that Tsuru is just needing a rest, the redhead looks exasperated, muttering a broken "for fuck's sake" as he turns on his heel, not hesitating to look for a decent vantage point to cover Tsuru, head tucked down against the rain and heart pounding hard at how it beats against his skin, how it hurts --]
Now is really not the best time for a nap, "old man". [His voice cracks through the retort, breathing hard despite the lack of exertion. But he swears in a foreign tongue and keeps his eyes trained on what Fatui he can see from their hiding spot, letting his grip on his weapon tighten so hard that he can feel the pain of tension through the fabric of his glove. Something, anything to keep him on his feet...]
no subject
(Still as casual as ever. It's true though, he isn't particularly injured if you ignore the minor cuts and scratches on him but even those start to add up over time. It's not so much the damage on his human body that has him taking a breather but the wear on his true form.
While Lutha keeps watch or rather-- tries to distract himself-- Tsuru reads him patiently. He's scared, Tsuru notes, and it shows. He's trying to keep it together and its wound him up, tight like a coil. He notes the way Lutha clutches his gun...
And he reaches out with one hand, fingers brushing against the fabric of his glove and then steadying his hand with his own,)
Steady.
(His voice is gentle and calm,)
Too tightly and you might break.
no subject
Don't you fucking go and talk to me like I'm a child! If you need to rest, then fucking rest and let me do my goddamn job until you're safe!
[Despite how wild his words are spit out, his anger wears desperately thin in his tone, nearly translucent to exhaustion and a panic that doesn't even remotely settle while tucked from enemy view. The urge to bolt out of desparation aches, digging like a vice to his chest.
The way he drops his gun to grab Tsuru's hand and messing shove it away feels far more like the choice of a scared child.]
no subject
Ah.
He doesn't mind being handled, eyes only glancing at the gun in acknowledgement before focusing back on Lutha. He doesn't have to say anything for Lutha to see what is on Tsuru's mind.
He sees. Why exactly, he doesn't know, but he knows what he's seeing.)
Come here.
(He says, even though he's the one that steps closer with both arms raised, the white sleeves of his robes draping like a curtain as he reaches over Lutha's head,)
Come out of the rain.
no subject
[It's a croak of a response, seeing that look in Tsuru's eyes, feeling his gut twist, breaking his glance before he dares to see that knowing gaze turn into pity. But Tsuru pushes forward, arms outreached, and what little frustration he has starts to crumble, stumbling backwards under unsteady feet.
His weapon skids far out of reach but he makes no move to grab it, his palm meeting water against the ground as he tries to back up and it burns like fire--]
No-- N-no, stop, stop, don't touch me--!
[Tsuru is overtop him, and all the redhead can do is draw his limbs close with his forehead nearly against his knees, arms wrapped against his head and shuddering for breath as though he's in physical pain. It burns and burns and he's back on the cliffside and back in the river and he can't see and can't breathe and spirits above he's going to die--
There's nothing wrong with him. He's sopping wet and covered with the wounds that came with battle. But even under the shadow of Tsurumaru's arms, covering up enough of the downpour to offer momentary relief, Lutha still chokes out a panicked wretch of a sob from beneath his arms.]
no subject
He shifts position just slightly, lowering his arms close over the crown of Lutha's head, untouching but only just barely. Leaning in close, his voice soft and quiet for only him to hear.)
There, there. Cry if you must, let your heart be heard. (There's a light, songlike quality to it as he speaks,) I'm listening.
But where ever you are, you're here.
(A gentle reminder, an attempt to ground him,)
You've been given shelter. Take it.
(Maybe not safe given their current situation. But certainly safer. Tsurumaru will make sure of it.)
no subject
Don't treat him like a child. Don't speak to him like he's uncapable, like he needs to give in to his emotions at a time like this, that he can't pull his own weight...
Don't remind him that he's weak.
...
The redhead's breath catches hard in his chest in a strong attempt not to hyperventilate, staying tensely drawn into himself with only the sound of dry, drawn shudders of panic. The paralyzing inaction slowly unravels, habit turning from cowering at death to something a little more practical -- for him, at least. His gloved hand stiffly jerks up to plaster his hair up and out of his face, shakily shoving moisture out of the way of his eyes and mouth as best he can. The waterlogged leather only does so much, however, and with a pained exhale through his teeth, Lutha brings his wrist to his mouth, catching the glove in his teeth and frantically peeling it off.
His hand shares the same reddened, gnarling scars that creep up his neck and face, the joints marred and stiff underneath inflexible tissue that seeps well up his forearm and out of site. It's still about as soaked as the rest of him, but it's the best he can do, trying to clear the rain from his face and neck and shaking his hand off like every swipe of his fingers was meeting hot oil rather than simple rainwater.
He can hear Kai. The feel against his face and mouth, even when his eyes couldn't see... but it's distant. The moment has passed, the rush of a river now the pattering of rain against fabric and his own quickened breathing echoing against the small space.
Catch his breath... he just has to catch his breath, and maybe... maybe he could just pretend. He could pretend that Tsurumaru wasn't still overtop him, and that he wasn't tasting bile in his own mouth.]