𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐒𝐧 π’πžπ©π­π’π¦ ([personal profile] septim) wrote in [community profile] exsiliumlogs2012-05-20 03:42 pm

( Open )

Date & Time: May 20th, afternoon to night
Location: All over the Initiative Hold, then Flat β„– 205
Characters: [personal profile] Martin Septim and whoever!
Summary: "The Septims see more than mortal men," they said. I could've skipped the hallucinations, I say.
Warnings: Hallucinations

Martin awoke stiff-limbed at the library, hair damp and tangled. Too often he'd fallen asleep at desks, late-night readings pushing through exhaustion until he collapsed, to be concerned about the why or how of this occasion.

But the dread coiling in his chest isn't normal, nor are the ghost of images seen but not remembered. What had he dreamed? He combs through his memories, recalling his father, Uriel VII, warning him about an impending something, to aid the Initiative, his only hope...

"Please, you have to believe me!" He clings to the person's shirt as if a desperate, scared childβ€”Martin certainly looks it, haunted eyes and a pleading, higher-pitched voice. No one listens to those who are mad, of course, and Martin ends up thrown onto the floor, tasting his own blood.

Hallucinations? No, his father wouldn't mislead him. His father saw more than mortal men. Perhaps it's his turn now. He has to warn them, to convince them that Initiative is their only hope for survival, just as his father did against the daedric invasion of Tamriel.

Martin bolts from the library, dashing madly towards someone, anyone, who will listen. He sees the shadows of Masked in every corner, hears the whispers of spies as his throat tightens, unable to speak.
theguideless: flawfree <user name="oceanwrath"> art (β—Š that's not how it works)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-22 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
The Darkov's day began at night, same as always – as it ought to. Martin was finding some semblance of a pattern to his habits in this alien place, though having any at all wasn't the most thrilling of things. It just meant he was more stuck than ever, didn't it?

But that's not what needed to be on his mind at the time. Only a few hours ago – maybe a day, maybe – the doctor had said Martin, older Martin, had disappeared. Or simply stopped showing up where he tended to be. Neither was comforting, and the small Martin became worried. Worried enough to commit to looking, even, though in hindsight he was kicking himself for that. How was he supposed to find anybody in this place? And was it really his business to?

He kind of made it his, spur of the moment. No getting out of it now, as far as he was concerned.

Of course, he wasn't sure where he ought to be looking; before retreating from the day, he'd gone ahead and meandered around the outskirts of the Hold to little avail, not very thoroughly at that. This new night was fresh and all too open to hours upon hours of unguided searching.

How fortunate for him that his quarry wound up practically running him over before he'd barely had time to make a lap around the place!
theguideless: (β—Š not okay)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-22 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
"Wuh––!"

Martin was a whirlwind of sound and confusion, and this Martin was...very confused. He hardly managed to put up much of a struggle, finding himself pushed, dragged, and otherwise forced toward the nearest closed space. The panic was gleaned off of the elder, but save for that, there were none of the telltale sensations the Darkov knew meant trouble.

"W-wait!" he stammered, managing to lodge his foot against the frame of a door, scrambling to press against it with his hands and just stop. "Wait, what's going on? Sir? Martin? What's––"
theguideless: (β—Š b-but)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-22 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
Huh-?!

Martin's cat-in-a-bath-like restraint at the door lost much of its strength when he processed Masked and let that sink in. It didn't take too much of a push to get the boy through the door, tripping over his own feet and flailing for balance. He came to a graceless stop, arms out in the air and one foot just short of the next footfall.

He doesn't hold pose for long.

"They're back?" He turned toward the fear-stricken man, starting to get that dreadful feeling on his neck out of pure expectation to. "Why? W-what're they doing?"
theguideless: (β—Š w-wait uh)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-22 11:33 am (UTC)(link)
The smell of magic only made it harder to stay grounded, but his confusion was still greater than his fear, if only by a slight margin at that point. The younger backed away, bringing his arm to his face to muffle the stink, grimacing, immediately forgetting when the elder hinted at leaving.

"Wait!" he cried quickly, moving a little, but hesitating. "Wait, but...John said you were missing, and everyone's saying people are going, and..." He shook his head quickly, all full of too many thoughts at once. "And can't you tell them with the, the..." He made a gesture, the more-or-less shape of the computer. "The thing? That everyone uses?"
theguideless: (β—Š i can't do that)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-22 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"John," Martin insisted, almost a plea. "He said you weren't...where you were supposed to be. Where were you? What's happening?"
birdhousesoul: Anders is hurt and/or sad. (black coat default)

[personal profile] birdhousesoul 2012-05-23 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
For good or ill, a darkly feathered mage sweeps onto the scene.

"Yes, Martin, what is happening?" demands Anders of the taller Martin. "You've been missing for days. Your kitten is suffering from emotional distress. Your kitten, the grey one, remember him? The one you named after your father?"

Anders still thinks that's sort of odd. Ser Pounce-a-lot is a normal name. You wouldn't catch Anders naming a pet after a dead relative.
theguideless: (β—Š not okay)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-23 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah--!"

The littler Martin nearly leaped out of his own skin with Anders' approach, so unexpected as it was. Rather, so fixated as Martin was on the frazzled elder. He whirled around, all gaping eyes and shrugged-up shoulders. For a moment, he thought it the Masked, just as Septim had said.

But...But no, this was somebody different. Someone...a friend? Martin didn't know.

He winced, loathe to interrupt or leave or...or do much of anything. He shuffled back steps away from Anders, standing a distance and between the two, mouth clamped shut and taut in a worried frown. With no answers or assurances coming at all from Septim, his gaze began to stick to Anders, the stranger. What's wrong with him? Fix it!
birdhousesoul: Anders is like "o.O" (o.O)

[personal profile] birdhousesoul 2012-05-23 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
Septim doesn't seem an immediate threat to anyone but himself; instinctively, Anders turns to the boy. Have they met? He doesn't recall, but now isn't the time for introductions, especially the awkward do I know you from somewhere variety. "I'm his housemate," he explains to the boy, and if there isn't much reassurance in his voice, at least there's stability. No rambling about the Masked, no hysteria. For once Anders is not the mage who's freaking out! "He has nightmares like this, sometimes, wakes us all up with yelling about the daedra. Never about the Masked, though, and never when he's awake ..."

Anders has an idea. "If he's under any kind of enchantment, this ought to shake him out of it. Keep standing clear of him," and with that, his attention is back to the gibbering heap of Imperial wreckage piled against the door.

He points his staff at Martin and attempts to dispel whatever effect is plaguing the man.
theguideless: (β—Š w-wait uh)

[personal profile] theguideless 2012-05-23 11:23 am (UTC)(link)
More magic. Martin's stomach churned and skin crawled, backing further away until a wall permitted no more, his mouth drawn and teeth bared in a wincing grimace. If the elder was being hurt, Martin was hardly helping; really, he didn't want to get hit with the stuff, too! Of course, that wasn't going to help anyone, him just frozen there. He needed to intervene, to...

To...

Huh?

Wait, but. But there's no screaming or blood or pain. The Septim was, actually, coherent.

Martin looked plainly baffled by the whole thing, staring from one man to the other with weak attempts at making it make sense.

He just pointed a stick at him and...
themaneater: (un...sure........)

[personal profile] themaneater 2012-05-23 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's one particular shadow here, lurking just outside the library, that doesn't belong to an imagined Masked. Khrall's ears perk forward as soon as he catches the sight of movement, and β€”Β oh, it's a running human. This is a clear invitation to run after if Khrall has ever seen one!

And so, of course, he does, starting up at and easy lope and easily catching up to follow on his heels. He doesn't speak, not yet, just watches with wide-eyed interest.
]