EVENT #011

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone on Earth in Meadowlark's world.
WHERE: The Aerie, a different world.
WHEN: Late July 2512.
WHAT: The first log of our AU event, taking place in an AU world that puts on battle royale events to cull the massive overpopulation.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Overwritten minds, horrible dystopian conditions, and more!

> EVENT #011

On the morning of July 26th, every living person on Earth will be spirited away from where they were mere moments before. Just like that. Hover cars will descend slowly in transit, trains will come to a stop without a screech of their breaks, and the streets throughout every single of the 104 megacities will be left barren, empty, and lifeless. Even those lost and hidden, not seen for months, are swept gently away with the rest of their brethren. No stone will go unturned.

The world upon their return may pick up where it's left off, or it will be changed in some way. Will it be July 26th when everyone finds themselves back where they were standing before? Or will something else happen during this time? Now that the supposed lifeblood of this planet is gone, what will happen in their absence? The world may not be able to go on how it had been.

Perhaps the more terrifying question is this: if something is powerful enough to steal away every person, every single one capable of thought, ideas, conflict, war, and more, what else could happen?

Perhaps it's for the best that it may be awhile before anyone has to worry about that.

For now, they've entered a world that's one week away from its next Quarry event: a place where The Aerie's criminals fight to prove they deserve to keep their life.

> THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU (THE AERIE)

The Aerie is a structure that should not exist.

Made of steel and concrete, it gives off the impression that its guts were arranged haphazardly, as if an amateur surgeon had pulled them out and tried to put them back in again. Steel beams stretch out between buildings, connecting them together. There may have been a wall of concrete around this beam once upon a time, but it splintered and fell away, exposing its insides and opening up a pathway that people have taken for granted in the past fifty to a hundred years. Power lines hang in loose tangles throughout this little world, ready to fall away at the slightest breeze, then splinter and spark.

Most of the insides of The Aerie are barely preserved. Trying to do that would be an impossible task: there are too many people, too many who live in concrete layered on one another like stacks of broken shelves, too many who pass through open maws of ruptured pathways, crawling up onto the roof of a business for what they think is a shortcut to a higher level. Brittle walls that splinter off into clouds of chalky white dust are everywhere and anywhere.

How The Aerie came together was once a majestic feat: a place for people to live, thrown together as extinction surged forward like a towering beast on the horizon. There was a mix of minds behind the action, as well as a hollow sense of desperation. Even those who brought The Aerie into being knew that their lives were on the line. It was a matter of "make this work" or die. So, they made it work.

What's truly impossible about The Aerie isn't the hulking structures merged together at all manner of impossible angles, but the outer layer of this little world, looming overhead in shimmering, constant glory. The people of The Aerie are protected, safe; the world outside is a nebulous, uncertain mess of greys and greens and reds and blues. Storms surge just outside of the wall of The Aerie with sharp, constant bolts of lightning that batter the surface overhead. Once upon a time, the people of this little world feared those bolts cutting through and destroying their home. But it's been long enough now. No one lives in fear of what's outside, and no one wonders, not anymore. After all, the people who made it outside were never seen again. For a time, some people could watch through the clear walls as these escapees' bodies turned to irradiated mush with only bones left behind. In time, those bones withered away to dust. And with them, their memories were forgotten.

Within The Aerie, life goes on, just as it must: riddled with fear, with survival often depending on the ability to escape notice.

Only two parts of The Aerie remain unscathed, untouched by the passage of time and haphazard construction of this refuge:

The Volary, which stands tall and pristine at the heart of The Aerie. Lights burn within The Volary all day and all night, showing signs of life that most of the people outside of its walls will never see for themselves.

And then the Quarry, a structure built in haste and out of necessity. The same people who brought The Aerie together also made the Quarry. At its base are a series of office buildings, setting up monthly arena events where the guilty fight to show that they deserve to survive.

These two things are the source of all the fear in The Aerie. It's what keeps everyone's mind off the crumbling walls, the storms outside, and the miserable, unending passage of time.

> SOAK UP THE GLORY (THE VOLARY)

When The Aerie came into being, so did The Volary. Far from fragmented like the rest of this tiny, tiny world, it stands pristine, with brown bricks lining its exterior, and strong steel beams holding it strong within. Either through its making or its care, The Volary hasn't suffered from the hands of time like the rest of the world. Anyone outside of The Volary doesn't know the truth, though they could likely guess.

Inside of The Volary lives the members of Parliament: the newly-joined Magpies, the comfortable Rooks, and the looming and most powerful, the Cardinals.

The Cardinals live at the very top. Even after over two hundred years, the Cardinals remain impenetrable. New members are accepted into their ranks from time to time, granted secrets of a bygone era, but the rest of the world remains ignorant to their knowledge. At the heart of this structure is a cult, a belief system; they are the ones who decide if The Aerie lives or dies. For now, it continues to live. Of course, any other path would lead to their devastation as well. They may be nearly immortal, but they aren't truly untouchable and eternal.

Beneath them are the rest of Parliament, cocky in their comfort. Many were born into it, but some were raised into the ranks, finding their own footholds. Sometimes these elevations seem random; sometimes these promotions happen with purpose, with someone driving to catch the eye of a Rook who's looking for someone like-minded to have around them.

Outside of the Magpies, the Rooks that were once Magpies, and the once-members of The Congregation outside, everyone seems blissfully ignorant of the dilapidated world outside. There are some workers from the outside world who know, and some Carrion lucky to have their place among the elite—but there is a sense that some things shouldn't be spoken about, or else they may need to be responsible for it all. While the outside begins to age without any sign of renewal, this compound lives on—untouched, unbothered.

The Volary is set up in levels. The very bottom is where all the businesses that serve the people up above are located. It's where animals are raised and butchered, and where food is prepared before it's brought up to the upper levels. There are numerous common areas, but these can be rented out for any whim of any members of Parliament. Even the businesses themselves can be shuttered for the day, with preferred chefs invited to the upper levels to prepare meals to deal with these circumstances. (Someone from the Congregation can train as a chef in the Cotillion, even if they've never handled food of this nature their entire lives. It's a good job to have, as a number of favored chefs have been elevated to Magpies.)

Beyond the shops is the first level of living quarters for the various members of Parliament. Many Magpie and Rook suites are side by side, though some Rooks prefer not to be housed next to a newcomer and have made their preference known throughout the years. These suites are designed and adapted to its inhabitant's every need, and if someone is born into the family, they inherit their family's suite once someone dies. How is it that there could be space for all the members of Parliament, and so little room outside of the walls of this compound? Consider that yet another question that members of Parliament don't need to concern themselves with.

At the uppermost levels are the suites belonging to the Cardinals. Unless explicitly invited, no one is allowed onto these floors. Numerous Carrion have died throughout the years because they wandered up the wrong set of stairs, knowing that risk was looming over them.

And at the very top is where The Conclave meets. Newly elected members of Parliament visit this room once to receive their powers, only they recall nothing. No one knows what happens within the inner walls of The Conclave. Some have attempted to spy throughout the years. Needless to say, that didn't go well.

The Volary is the home of the pampered, the rich: the people who can ignore the dying world beyond them. Even those inheriting a sense of importance feel as if they've done enough—when they clearly don't do enough. At least those stuck outside may find themselves walking through the heavy front doors of this compound one day. Too bad it's based upon the powers of Parliament, and whether they deign to let someone inside. The only good news is that someone can be buzzed in via their power. That gives a real personal touch, right?

> NO WAY TO LIVE (THE CONGREGATION)

Outside of The Volary, The Aerie is set up in sectors, these sectors acting like rings that move further and further from The Volary up and down throughout The Aerie. Almost by necessity, the rings closer to The Volary are populated by Parliament's favorites. The upkeep around here is better: not pristine, but far from as bad as it gets as someone travels to the outer sectors. Many who have made a name for themselves in the Quarry live in these inner sectors, close to the people of Parliament. Many believe that the inner sectors are still tended to because members of Parliament would hate to face up to the fact of their world dying, and it may not be far from the truth.

In addition to better upkeep, the inner sectors experience less Shrike patrols, with the people allowed to live a life that allows them to remain ignorant to the world around them. They may not be Parliament, but their life in these sectors affords them the feeling of comfort. They don't have to fear their ceiling caving in; they don't have to fear a pipe bursting at an unfortunate moment; they don't have to fear wrongful arrest because they looked at someone the wrong way. It takes a lot for those from the inner sectors to have their lives ruined—but it's not exactly impossible. Of course, this is also where The Cotillion is kept, with numerous buildings and dormitories maintained for its students.

The further and further someone goes away from The Volary, the more life within The Aerie becomes difficult. The worst part is this: no one knows any better. They know the crumbling walls, the faded and peeling wallpaper, the revealed steel beams. They know the frequent Shrike patrols. They know that if they commit a crime, it's on them: they deserve whatever comes their way.

How does someone work in order to get by in these outer sectors? They can help man the bars, because drinking is as much a way of life here as it is back in the regular world. They can help upkeep of The Aerie. Someone can easily enter a trade alongside their compulsory schooling, especially if they aren't special enough for Cotillion training. Electricians are needed throughout. Maintenance of trains is needed throughout. Plumbers are needed throughout. And rations? They come by way of processing plants connected to hydroponic farms. More than a few times throughout the years, these plants have suffered breakdowns, and there have been ration shortages. But don't worry: Parliament continued on eating as if nothing changed outside.

Rations are given out three times a day through numerous rations checkpoints in each sector. These rations are like tasteless protein bars: enough to provide someone the meal they need, a bland mixture of carbohydrates, protein and fat sprinkled with essential nutrients, and little more. Attempts to make them more flavorful throughout the years have failed. Badly. It's probably better that they're bland little morsels. The good news is that they're filling. That may be the only good news.

Life isn't all misery and pain, even if job prospects are largely unfortunate if you're nothing special and the food is literally nothing to talk about. There is a thriving popular culture within The Congregation. There are numerous television shows and movies depicting the distant past, or even a brighter present: one in which the people of The Congregation managed to come together and make their lives better. Oddly enough, these don't tend to act as propaganda. They're just badly written, but done with an eye on hope and perhaps a better life. There are sports and games, though no official leagues have started up, almost certainly because they would compete with the Quarry for airtime.

Members of the Congregation are able to travel anywhere they like within The Aerie thanks to trains, with the only sector the train lines don't access being The Volary. They can peer down over the city, seeing a blurry line of grey all merging together, with people living their lives as best as they can. These trains go near the surface of The Aerie, too, granting someone a close up of the world outside, and reminding them that life could be much, much worse. It could be gone altogether.

> SO SHALL IT BE (QUARRY PREPARATIONS)

With one week remaining until the next Quarry event, preparations continue within The Company's headquarters. Located at the base of the arena out of necessity, The Company's offices are pristine and lifeless in nature. White walls, white ceiling tiles, and white chairs: nothing varies from anything else. How does it remain so surgical at all times? One can only wonder.

Numerous Quarries are being prepared at any given moment, with the televised sensations planned months in advance. Some plans are scrapped depending on competitors. Given the recurrence of Snipes, there are moments where plans need to be changed, where tension needs to be brought in. An arena designer may have to scrap his entire vision for a backup plan.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—The Company is a well-oiled machine. Need some crunch time to make sure a Quarry event is ready on time? The underlings at The Company are used to working long, long days to make it work.

The Quarry this time around is unknown, though there are suspicions of what it might be.

As for those waiting to enter the ring: they're free to live their lives, but many of them are undergoing talent training and preparation for the big event. They're going through interviews, getting sized for any costumes, and being asked to tell their stories. Some of the Snipes may be more than ready for this, while the Guineas will need to figure this out for themselves.

> A WILL TO FIGHT (THE KESTRELS)

Littered throughout the Congregation is a group that's been budding for a while. As much as this world is all they've known, there are some who believe that they deserve something better. The Quarry is unfair, and all throughout the many sectors, there are signs that The Aerie is breaking down and dying, barely keeping it together. These are people who may be afraid, but want to fight despite that fear.

Some of them have made themselves known: bearing a tattoo of a kestrel where others can see. Others hide who they are, but they're waiting. Planning. They strike when they can, but they know that time is running out. There are tiny safehouses throughout, typically through hatches underneath small local businesses that are sympathetic to the kestrels themselves. These people aren't members, but they put themselves at risk every day to protect this movement.

So, they have their sights set on this upcoming Quarry. It's time to bring change to The Aerie—or die trying.

> GOALS FOR THIS LOG

Either through talking ICly or OOCly, we'd like to have the following goals outlined and submitted to our comments below:

What is the Kestrels' plan in all of this? What do they intend to do?
This can include trying to find and meet with Prometheus, just as a note! Overall, we'd like an idea of what they'll be attempting with the upcoming Quarry so that we can work it into the next log.

What is the theme for the next Quarry arena?
We'd like to have some idea of a theme, as well as some submitted puzzles! We know that we're the kings of Vague Ass Puzzles, so feel free to be vague. We just want to give our Quarry participants something to look forward to.

Are there any other factors we need to consider?
Parliament upheaval? Plans to find out what Parliament is doing? Anything else that might come to mind? This is more loose!

We're giving a loose deadline of DECEMBER 7 with the next log going up on DECEMBER 12.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to part one of our year-end AU event! We meant for this to be primarily be a description log to start play, especially since we feel that most of our critical information is in our Planning Post. We suggest that you do any necessary planning there for your select crews there, as well as use the "DM" system on Warbler for private stuff.

Of course, our questions thread is still open.

Since it's come up in the past: since all characters are in the AU, please feel free to do a catch-all post of anything you might want! Flashbacks! Anything open prompt-wise! Go wild with this stuff. This is always available during events, but we wanted to be explicitly clear here given the nature of this event.

As for mod-run social media, we have a post here on the network where we'll be steadily adding things throughout the event!

Our November Activity Check goes live on DECEMBER 1. AC for the month of December will be check-in only. It's a weird holiday season, but it will undoubtedly still be stressful for all of us.

Our next reserves will open on NOVEMBER 23 and our next application period will open on DECEMBER 1. We intend for all new or returning applicants to be kept outside of the AU. We have a special plotting opportunity and NPC ready for this scenario to help people integrate. However, if you have a friend who's apping to tap into the AU, let us know—we're not 100% married to our plans, but we worried about any new players apping into such a convoluted scenario after so much plotting has already taken place.

That's all for now. Have fun and for those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

> NAVIGATION

Comments

Castiel | Supernatural

[unwings]

the company;

[ castiel blends into the background in the Company offices more often than not, a quiet, unassuming figure with attention ever on his work. Polite, helpful, but mostly impersonal. His job is to run the physics behind the arena concepts the designers pitch, letting them know what’s possible and what isn’t. Maybe he didn’t completely internalize what he was in for before taking this job, but some time close to the next quarry, he’s hovering over one designer’s blueprints, expression distant, dissonant. ]

How cruel…

[ He mutters, like an afterthought, distracted, and catches himself a second after, blinking rapidly up at the designer next to him. ]

Which is, of course, the goal. [ cas clears his throat, glances back down at the plans once more, then back up, nodding stiffly. ] Impressive work.

[ it doesn’t come out sounding like a compliment, but it’s too impassive to seem like a criticism either. Like that, the moment’s gone, and cas’s attention is back on the tablet in his hands, typing out equations related to the plots in front of him. ]

pre-quarry training;

[ dead man walking. That’s how it feels as he watches the other quarry participants-to-be parsing through weapons, speaking with trainers in low voices, watching each other with assessing eyes. He’s a physicist, a mathematician. The perfect angle to swing an axe for quick, seamless decapitation wasn’t something they covered in the cotillion.

If it were cas here alone, that’d be one thing, but dean’s here - dean’s locked into this death sentence with him and its his fault. Cas can’t, won’t, be deadweight for him to be burdened with. Throwing knives in hand, Cas watches another participant across the room thudding them into a target, one after the other, observing the method before attempting to mimic it.

It doesn’t go great for him. After a couple lame tosses that bounce right off the wall (don’t even hit the target itself), he lets out a huff, dragging his feet as he goes to collect the knives on the ground. They’re traded out for a spear, and Cas turns back to the poor person who’d volunteered to train him. ]

I’m— I'm just not very good at this, I’m sorry.

[ there may be muscle memory left in him from before this world, something his limbs remember about the endless battles he’s been through, but he’s all together too nervous and tense for anything to feel natural. ]

interview;

[ tell us a little about yourself, castiel! the interviewer (a peppy woman with fuchsia colored hair) asks, far too chipper for the circumstances. Cas answers, short. ]

I’m a mathematician.

[ a lull of silence, the woman waiting for there to be more, but cas watches her with flat, unwavering indifference. This isn’t a game he wants to be playing, and he doesn’t plan to give her, or the millions watching, anything of himself. Which is fine, she’s found a way to twist even that into something tantalizing. So Dean Winchester likes them nerdy, huh? Cas blinks, squints. ]

You’d have to ask him.

[ sounds like a cop out, she answers, and cas gives the woman the lamest, laziest of shrugs. Miss him with your romance in brutal death fetish, lady, and miss his entire relationship with dean, thanks. As far as cas is concerned, that’s none of their business. Dean is something precious to him, something personal, something he wants to keep close to his chest, and this barbaric world can pry the love he holds for him from cas’s cold, dead fingers. Is it true that you were caught smuggling state secrets to the rebels? a heavy sigh, and he admits to it. ]

Yes.

[ Dean too? Is that how your romance began, as rebel spies? Partners in crime? Star-crossed lovers on the lamb? ]

What? No. [ what absurd fucking nonsense, this isn’t a soap opera, woman, it’s a death cult. Irritation starting to show on his features, Cas snaps at her, asserting with conviction. ] It was my plan, not his. Dean Winchester is innocent.

[ rather than the concern he would’ve rather seen on the woman, she only becomes more excited, nearly squealing, and goes off in a titillated string of romantic speculating on the heroic sacrifice of a love-struck soulmate. cas’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling. Are you sure, because Dean claimed it was his plot, and Cas sharply interrupts her, patience at its limit — ]

That's because he's an idiot. Are we done?

wildcard;

[[ hit me with whatever floats your boat, or message me for plotting - wuzzafuzzle ]]

the company

[remorseful]

The crueler we are, the better we are at persuading people to stay away from this outcome. [Never mind the fact that there are always Quarry participants. There are always people willing to screw up. And if they don't have a nice, solid, even number by the week before, the Shrikes are sure to cook up some surprises for people. Deals are broken. Blood is spilled. And so, they get more people in the ring yet again.]

Sometimes I feel like we're a little late in the game, too. [Casual. Thoughtful. Sam doesn't sound like he's chastising Castiel, and that's because it hasn't crossed his mind.] Like we have to be more creative. Sometimes creative means crueler than you'd think.

[The theory of Quarry making is what drives Sam. He knows the engineering processes, but he likes to go outside the box. It's why he has a Warbler following in the first place.]

[unwings]

Was nearly guaranteed death not persuasive enough already? [ cas murmurs it, tone flat as it usually is. cas trusts sam with his doubts, but no one else in this building. sam's known him, understands his tendency to question things, and he believes his friend wouldn't take that as reason to report him for dissent. ]

Regardless, the viewers appreciate creative cruelty more than bland. [ 'the viewers', which is more particularly the viewers of parliament - the only opinions that actually count. so long as sam's designs keep them engaged, he's doing well. thankfully, the design parts aren't up to cas, so this creative cruelty thing isn't his responsibility. he's just here to crunch numbers, he reminds himself. ] I doubt you'd keep your job here without that flare.

[remorseful]

[Dissent isn't the same as acting on it. Dissent isn't trying to stop the system. And what they do is cruel, is unjust—but that's why people need to avoid what's coming their way. More than that, Sam doesn't like to rock the boat. Don't seem like he's bothered. Don't turn anyone in. Don't think too hard about the way things sound, either for or against any of this.

Besides, Cas is doing better for himself. Sam figures that a little doubt comes from being closer to Parliament. There's a reason why he doesn't want that to be the new normal.]

I'm working on it. Both the creativity and the flair. I guess I see it as trying to keep things fresh. We're pretty much the only ones injecting that into this world. A lot of other things seem ... rote. Repetitive. [Repeats of The Time Before. There are some gems out there, but not many.]

To tell you the truth, sometimes I just try to forget what it means when I succeed at that. [That people die.

Sam has his doubts, too, but they're the ones he has to separate himself from day in and day out. It's how he survives. It's how he stays normal.]

[unwings]

[ reaching parliament was supposed to be the lifetime achievement goal, a way to secure your survival and find a permanent, protected place for yourself. it's what his parents wanted for him, it's what his professors at the cotillion expected of him. cas had hoped there'd be a sense of fulfillment, of security, once he got here, but it's all the more empty. ]

Confined to a single bubble of a city on a devastated planet, it isn't too surprising the scenery and routine gets old.

[ not a lot of vacation options, but it's been their reality for a long, long time now. sam's a good man, he's known that since their days at the cotillion, and if any of them had a choice, they wouldn't be doing this. at least, that's what castiel's telling himself: they don't have a choice. ]

It's self-preservation, Sam. [ Cas tells him somewhat softly, lower than their coworkers could overhear, with a sympathetic look cast to him, ] If you spend your time dwelling on that, you'll never be able to sleep at night.

[remorseful]

Yeah. [Self-preservation without being elevated the way that Cas has been. Sam knows that some of the members of Parliament can really screw a guy up, and he knows that he doesn't like the lavish lifestyle or even the idea of trying to get through year one. That Cas has to put himself through it worries Sam.]

Is that what you call your life these days? Self-preservation?

[It's notable that he doesn't sound judgmental. Worried? Yes. Parliament is more than just screwing someone up. Hell, it can come down to cruelly putting someone through the ringer. If someone has a bad day, their whole life can be ruined in the compound.

There's a reason why Sam's managed to avoid that notice. He doesn't even wanna be a crow. He's gotten close once or twice, thanks to parties and dates, but ... he'll do without.]

[unwings]

[ at the question, cas blinks, expression blank for a moment or so. he hadn't thought of it much that way, sam's good at putting things into a usefully framed perspective. frowning, cas find the sentiment suits his mentality more than he's comfortable with. ]

Doesn't bode well, does it?

[ spoken wryly, with a mirthless half-smile, attempting at some kind of good humor. humor's never been a talent of his. the truth of the matter is, that's essentially what parliament has felt like, to him. forever climbing towards power and immortality, to preserve yourself a seat at the top of the food chain.

then, he looks at the arena designs, and cas knows he has no real right to call his comfortable life 'self-preservation'. not when people are being cast into this death machine, damned to a true fight for survival. ]

So long as we aren't building these traps for me, I can't really consider my life so dire.

closed to lexa;

[unwings]

[ looking at her, cas remembers a little girl he’d played pretend games with while each of their parents were off making this world a more terrifying place. Lexa’s a long way from that child he’d taken to like a baby sister, now strong and proud and fierce in ways cas never grew to be. He collapsed in, while she exploded out, and now, with death looming ominously in his future and her here, carrying the hopes and dreams of a people struggling to be free, cas is glad it’s him headed to the quarry, rather than her. ]

I never told you how proud I am of you, Lexa.

[ he tells her softly, as they sit together on a courtyard bench, the peak of the arena building imposing in the distance. His eyes are glassy and brimmed with regret, but a flickering warmth of fondness there too, of pride. ]

This drive you have, this fearlessness, I’ve always admired that in you.

[ he beams at her like a proud parent. After all, he’d given her more nurturing than any of their parents allowed them, but then he’d abandoned her… if she never forgives him for it, he’d understand. ]

You have so much left to give this world. I just wish- [ his voice catches, and cas smiles sadly, heartbroken. ] I wish I’d believed you sooner. I’m so, so sorry, Lexa.

[coalitions]

[In this place, there are bonds that last far longer than anyone expects, and this is one that she thought she put to bed long ago. Lexa has come a long way since she was that little girl with the big green eyes, hanging on his every word. Her relationship with her parents grew more fraught with every year, but she looked forward to when he'd show up, giving her and Costia the attention they lacked.

Costia was the one to tell her to find forgiveness in her heart for him, when Castiel went in the opposite direction of the two of them. Lexa went to the streets, she let her righteousness fill her, while he seemed to go higher by the day. When Costia died, for a time, all Lexa could feel was rage and ice. He was appealing to the very people who killed her, and she was innocent. She was so much better than both of them.

Costia died because of her, and now here they are, with the weight of another loss hanging over them. She is trying to be strong. When he came to her, she reluctantly let him back in, and now she's afraid that weakness led to this. She's holding back tears of her own, barely, unable to meet his eyes. ]

Don't talk like we're saying goodbye.

[ Except they were. He's not like the others. Not like Clarke or Rey, who themselves could kill him, and Lexa wonders how they're going to make through this quarry. The Kestrels have plans, she has plans. They will not let it be that easy, but she cannot tell him that. Not yet. ]

I should never have let you back in.

[ She's not saying that because she is rejecting him, but because coming to her led this way. How many more times? Lexa is trying so hard to be strong, taking in a deep shuttering breath, rubbing hands through her hair. ]

This is all wrong.

[unwings]

[ Caring for Lexa was the last time Cas really felt human, alive, belonging, before the Cotillion and Parliament turned him into something hollow. She was precious to him, family neither of them found in their parents, invaluable. he left for cotillion, and heard the news about costia through the grapevine.

there was nothing any of them could have done, a victim to the viciousness of their society, but he knew it would ruin lexa. the reality of it crushed the hope in him, and castiel became a husk of a thing. the efficiency of a machine without much of a soul attached.

I never should've left in the first place, he wants to tell her, but cas can practically see how she's internalizing this, drawing lines between events that come back to her actions, and he can't let whatever happens to him rest on her shoulders. his poor choices have already caused her enough pain as it is. ]

Lexa, hey— [ castiel ducks his head to the side, trying to catch her eyes as his hands come up to frame her face, gently nudging her to look at him. ] This is not your fault. I knew what I was risking, and I chose this.

[ yes, this is a goodbye, and there's an aching regret heavy in his chest for that, but castiel recognizes the reality of his situation. he's an academic, never gotten into a fight in all his life. he's the kind of person their world expects to be killed off quickly in the quarry, fodder to the true competition. determined as he is to survive for dean, with dean, and for lexa, he can't ignore the fact this may be the last time they see each other.

cas clears the emotion from his voice, swallows against the lump in his throat, and speaks with an adamant resolution, firm. ]

Promise me you won't torture yourself with this. [ he tries to keep what feels like pleading out of his tone, but the thought of her feeling responsible for his own screw up... cas can't stomach it. ] Use the pain to fuel your cause, but don't let it haunt you.

[coalitions]

[ Lexa had to be careful setting this meeting up but she found a way. There are good reasons; she lives as a shadow, one of the best spies they have all things considered. She is a servant, an assistant, someone the Volary and everyone inside of it doesn't look at twice. She has made herself as forgettable as possible, so talking to a Quarry fighter is a risk. And how could she not risk it? She never got to say goodbye to Costia. Her parents blocked her.

She lets him lift her face and just looking at his eyes ruins all attempts at being in control. The tears fall freely and she's never been good at being cold and distant. The Kestrels are her family, she is a mother hen of sorts, but he was her family first. She shakes her head, a rejection of what they both know is true. ]

You can't fight, it was stupid to let you take the risk.

[ She feels the heat under her fingertips. Her power is immense, more than he knows, more than most people do. They keep it secret, holding it back for the right moment. She wants to burn this entire place down, dragging him home. But not yet. Lexa manages to breathe between short sobs and throws her arms around him, burrowing her head into his shoulder. ]

I can't.

[ She raises her head, her eyes desperate. ]

Come with me now. We'll ... we'll run, we'll find a way to hide you.

[ It's impossible and reckless but the five stages of grief, bargaining is coming most easily. ]

[unwings]

[ lexa sobs, shattering what strength cas had left in him, and he pulls her close, arms tight around her shoulders and a hand stroking over her hair. funny, how time condenses in moments like these. late nights with a much younger lexa float back through his memory, consoling her over nightmares, quiet fears of the world they're facing, the parents meant to be raising them, uncertain futures ahead. all those things he failed to protect her from.

it's backwards now, her trying to steal him away and hide him, and cas shakes his head, clearing his throat before he speaks to keep the lump of emotion threatening to choke him from interfering. ]

I can't leave Dean. My recklessness is the reason he's caught in this.

[ he'll die because of him, and that's a regret cas will have to take to the grave, unless he can see dean through all this. navigate him past the tricks and traps he knows, bring him to the light at the end of the tunnel. it's sad, but it's his reality now, and he owes it to everyone he's hurt to face that reality head on. ]

They'll find us. [ cas murmurs, like an apology, and pulls back enough to watch her with a bittersweet smile. ] They always do, and I can't—... I can't bring anyone else down with me.

[ lexa's already in enough danger simply meeting with him. aiding and abetting a fugitive would damn her completely. it's enough he's taking dean with him, cas can't let lexa be added to that list. ]

[coalitions]

[ Lexa has memories of parents who said they loved her but showed it in toxic and controlling ways. She understood the difference between their love and Castiel's and Costia's, that's how she managed to see past the brainwashing of their society. Some part of her parents were so certain they did the right thing with her, that once Costia died she would come back to them because they saved her life. They betrayed their job for her, and that meant she owed them. Their love was suffocating.

This grief feels suffocating too, but that's because it comes from the truest of places. While Lexa tried to shut her heart out to him, she is too soft to succeed at it. She kept an eye on him from afar, even if it hurt to see how he fed into the damage of the system. She is not there yet, in the plans, but there will be a point where Lexa decides she can't accept the status quo anymore. A bomb will be planned and she will be right there when it happens, because enough is enough. Castiel, Rey, Clarke. No more of this.

She cries into his shoulder since there is no stopping this outpouring of grief both fresh and long-lived. When she manages to take a shuddering breath or two, she pulls back to look at him. Her eyes are greener than ever with the waterworks.]

You're going to try to make him live, aren't you? I know you.

[ He loves Dean and he feels responsible, that much is obvious. She knows he would do the same for her, if she was in the quarry with him. Lexa shakes her head. ]

You can't make him kill you, Cas.

cw: suicidal ideation

[unwings]

[ with a sad smile, cas reaches up to sweep away the tears clinging to lexa's cheeks, an affectionate, fond look in his eyes when smooths his palm over the side of her face. the weight of her focus, after that question, though, is more than he can meet with his eyes, and an arm around her curls to tug her against his side, flat palm at her back stroking over her spine. ]

No. [ cas answers quietly, his eyes dropped to his lap almost sheepishly. ] He'd refuse anyway.

[ castiel doubts there's any way to get dean winchester to do something like that if he doesn't want to. one of the things he admires so fiercely about the man - this iron will and morality he has, the simple goodness and heart within him. it's partly what inspired him to take this risk in the first place.

letting his eyes slip to the side, this isn't an admission he's proud of. ]

I don't plan to make it Dean's choice.

[ so, suicide. ]

[coalitions]

[ She has already met this conundrum with Rey; how to recommend to someone the best way to kill others when some of them she loves too? There is no winner here, everyone loses. This society is broken and it's why she's joined the Kestrels, why she believes they simply have to break it harder if they are ever to put it back together. They can't go on like this forever. Yet she sees no end for this particular situation.

She curls into his side as he offers her the option, burying her face on his shoulder, trying to remember what it was like when comfort was a thing either of them could believe in. Lexa understands, is the terrible thing. If she was in situation, if it was her against any of the three of them, she would pick ending her life over theirs without hesitation. But she isn't the one who gets caught. She's always the one who has to watch.

How is she supposed to react with the reality that regardless of what happens, he plans on dying? There's nothing more than loss here. But she has to understand. She breathes in, tears still soaking her face, and breathes out.]

If you want him to live ....

[ She swallows, closing her eyes. Castiel won't change his mind about this. She puts her arms around him and breathes him in. ]

You'll have to help him. Team up. I have information on the Snipes.

[ She would give it to all of them, give everyone a potential edge over the others. It's the only thing possible. ]

training;

[notathreat]

[It's not something Ellie often does, visiting the training grounds for the Quarry. Having been in this position herself, she knows the terror mixed with raw survival instinct. How everyone is just this close to a mental fucking breakdown.

It's different, this time. She knows multiple people going in on this round. More than one of them are old friends. People she cares about.

... or just faces from her past that she can't stop from cropping up in her nightmares.

And this guy -- this fucking guy. She watches him throw a knife and knows, just knows he'll be dead in minutes. She's seen the announcements, the interviews. It's the kind of story she knows better than to engage with.

Ellie's never been good at curbing impulse, though, and when Castiel's trainer throws her hands in the air and stalks away, Ellie pauses at the edge of the ring, fresh from checking in someone else, and something in her just crumbles.

She gestures at the spear.]

I don't know why they fucking do this. Nobody can learn to use a spear in a couple of weeks.

[unwings]

[ his previous trainer is fed up with cas's ineptitude, and frankly, he's not surprised. watching her storm off, he lets out a sigh, planting the spear on the ground and using it more as a staff to lean against than a weapon.

until this one speaks up, and cas glances over his shoulder, expecting to see someone else she must be talking to, but nope, he's the only one holding onto a spear in the vicinity.

after a couple owlish blinks, a sheepish half-smile pulls onto his features and cas shrugs. ]

Maybe watching us fumble just before we die is part of the entertainment value.

[ he's a bit grim with his humor, sue him. he'll be dead in a few weeks, may as well go out laughing, right? ]

[notathreat]

I'd put money on it.

[Then again, he'd know, wouldn't he? Ellie watches him for a couple more seconds, then sighs, stepping into the ring, gesturing for him to guard with the spear.]

Polearms are all about controlling range. If somebody gets past that you're toast. Easy to do with stealth or distraction, or just if they're faster than you-

[Ellie darts forward, easily knocking it aside with her forearm, pushing in close, letting it slide along her sleeve. She holds her other hand as if she has a blade, pushes it, punches it into his stomach, slowing the motion so that he can see what she's doing.]

Your hands are occupied. You can't block me. See? But-

[Ellie takes the shaft of the spear, guides his hand, hooking the edge of it across her body.]

You're bigger than me. Stronger. You can force me back.

Better, you can trip me up-

[Ellie guides the edge of the spear to her ankle, tapping it-]

And stab me when I'm on the ground.

[unwings]

[ when she steps out to the ring, castiel's blinking dumbly at her for a beat, not expecting any further help once the exasperated former trainer declared surrender. ellie seems to be in an altruistic mood, lucky for him. cas, of course, would rather be informed than not, so he jolts into action, following her instructions.

taking a defensive stance, he does his best to mimic what the young woman shows him, brow furrows in concentration as he watches her move and nods his understanding. a murmur of 'okay' or 'i see' confirms that he's following along here and there.

as ellie's instruction goes on, cas starts to focus more on ellie herself than what she's demonstrating, still following along with the motions, head gradually coming to tilt curiously as intrigue gets the best of him.

she's familiar, but he can't quite place where he's seen her face before. clearly skilled with combat, if she's here training the new quarry participants. when the spear's at her ankle, it clicks into place. ]

You've done this before, haven't you?

[ that's where he's seen her - one of the previous quarry champions. for someone so young to go through all that and come out alive... what nightmares this girl must have. ]

Thank you, for helping. You didn't have to.

[notathreat]

[As they work together, Ellie narrows her focus, is patient but critical- and that's why it brings her out of it when Castiel speaks to her directly.

She looks up, her eyes harder, the edges of her mouth tight, searching his eyes. It's not something she really wanted to discuss. She herself doesn't really want to think too hard about why she's doing this. He's going into the Quarry with the likes of Wade and the others, he won't stand a chance and it's probably cruel to give him false hope.

... but she survived, a long time ago, because someone took the time to teach her when she seemed hopeless. And if someone does win, she'd rather it be one of the many, many worthwhile people who are also probably going to die.]

Yeah, well... you didn't have to, either.

[unwings]

[ Ah, so she knows his story already. He shouldn't be surprised, the entire Aerie knows his story by now. eyes casting to the floor, cas swallows thickly, recalling the events that brought him here. ]

I did.

[ he admits with a somewhat sad half-smile, sheepish as he shrugs. ]

Watching the last Quarry... I don't think I could stomach another knowing my part in it.

[ 'stomach', 'live with myself', you know, whatever works. nightmares plague him after each death, especially the ones involving any kind of trap or environment element he can remember coming across his desk in the Company. others told him the feeling would fade, eventually, but that never sat right with him. it shouldn't fade. it isn't a guilt any human being should simply get used to. ]

[notathreat]

[Ellie continues working him over with the spear, forcing him to keep her off him, even while they're talking. She's quick, but make sure not to hit him too hard. No sense in him going in covered in bruises.]

Just this last one, huh?

[It's a little cutting, perhaps, but her eyes are steady all the same.

Every single person living in this world is complicit, including her.]

[unwings]

[ it is cutting, but it's fair and honest all the same. castiel's head ducks, and he steps back from their sparring a moment to process that, sheepish. ]

Shameful as it is to admit, yes. [ at least he's honest. ] Moral conflict becomes easier to suppress when there's distance, I suppose.

[ which isn't an excuse, just a truth about how this horror has come to be so widely accepted, perhaps. it says more about how this system was designed than anyone's innocence within it. ]

[notathreat]

[Ellie's eyes lose some of their hardness as Castiel absorbs the emotional blow, takes a deep breath and lets it out.

... yeah. She can get that.]

Most people just wanna ignore it because it's too big, y'know. For any one person to handle.

[She hesitates again.]

But you tried anyway. Why?

[unwings]

[ his head taking a slight tilt to the side, castiel's thinking on it a moment, stepping back to lean his weight on the spear with a furrow in his brow. ]

Most don't have a position to do anything about it. [ he offers eventually, like it's that simple. ] I did.

[ maybe it is that simple, but then again, he's here now, isn't he? he's paying the price like everyone else before him has. so how much was he really in a place to help anyone at all, himself included? ]

Well, I thought I did.

[ hanging his head, it all feels a bit stupid now. ]