#.our fate cannot be taken from us ; it is a gift ; vit.torio.

[dimensionalspades]

. He remembered the amount of times he planned these expeditions with his uncle Renzo. Trusted company to care for Portoscuro and its people, squires to run information to and from, routes planned to the site and back, costs for salaries, and more that would've escaped him were it not for Renzo's fastidious journaling.

. And unfortunately, most important, was the matter of protection. Vittorio despised the need for such measures, but he was not so naive to think that he could avoid it. In any case, she seemed trustworthy.

. "Vittorio Toscano," he greeted, a hand extended to her when in range. "Have you ever been to spain before?"

plotted starter for @ofspvrta

[dimensionalspades]

Like for a starter (length will vary)! Specify who you want or I'll choose for you!

[dimensionalspades]

. He stared out the window, brows furrowing. Were all the buildings on the planet this way? It seemed almost like they were going to crash into each other. The transportation he'd seen while they were walking to her home seemed almost blindingly fast.

. "Suppose I would be more incredulous if the world had not changed in nearly a thousand years," he said as he shifted his weight and stood back up.

. "It's been a week, and I still imagine we'll wake up back in the Fog." By the damn campfire again. He didn't realize how much he'd grown to hate it until they were away from the Realm. He focused on @healingbrews after a moment. "How are you feeling, Hinoka?"

[dimensionalspades]

TAG DROP: Vittorio Toscano

[dimensionalspades]

. He wondered of the connectivity of this eternal fog and the places he'd visited before. Were they separate from the rest of this realm? Controlled, perhaps, by some other malicious creature; or was it all the entity? The bird, the villages, the abandoned places scattered around reality itself. Had he been trapped all along, only tripping into this group of people by chance after who knew how long of wandering?

He nodded as she spoke, mind fixating on their task. He looked around before he grabbed the lever, grunting as he yanked it down.

"I have not seen much of Megan or Dwight." He only really knew they were there because the Trickster occasionally got distracted from hunting Vittorio. His shoulder ached at the thought. He heard a shriek somewhere behind, head turning to spy the Trickster approaching to heft Meg onto his shoulder.

She liked the way he worded things, reminding her of movies based in an older era. It made this all seem like a bad dream at times and sometimes that was just what she needed to keep going. Keeping one's hope and optimism, even for someone like her, was difficult when pitted against enemies that felt too powerful.

She had stood up against plenty of enemies before but some overpowering fear gripped her when one drew close. It had to be something with the entity that prevented them from ever wanting to fight back. Several of the killers were monstrous and would easily make her think twice about squaring up but others she felt could be dealt with. But even those she ran from. Any fight that had been in her before left and all she could do was run and hope her teammates finished the generators or she could lose them in the fog.

"I'm glad you know," Faye was hot on his heels, listening as the humming grew closer before a scream ripped through the air. The laughter that followed waned and as they made their way to one of the exit gates she could see the first light on the switch was on. Someone had tried opening it and been interrupted. If they held out long enough they could all escape.

"You get the door, I'll watch your back," she replied, looking around the trees and wooden walls to try and search for the other survivor currently running for their life. "We're nearly out of here."

[dimensionalspades]

. His first instinct had been to want to go and intercept, to get Tarhos' attention again and allow Meg to slip away and seek aid. But how foolish that would be; he was injured and not interested in feeling the hook through his shoulder again.

. He followed after Nerissa.

. He still barely understood how these things worked. According to Yui, it wasn't like a real generator. They weren't doing real maintenance. Vittorio didn't really understand it, but he didn't want to try to at this point. Nothing in this realm made sense.

. "We can hope she is faster than him even when injured." Not that it mattered much. Tarhos rarely let up when he was hunting, and the Entity had only enhanced that. He crouched, favoring his injured leg as he began to help Nerissa. "I tire of this Entity's games," he muttered finally, fatigue pulling at his features.

They still had at least three to go. It'd been difficult with the Knight using his allies to patrol generators being worked on as well as checking in on them himself even while in chases. It was like he had a sixth sense when things were close and only the heavy footsteps and clanking of armor would alert someone. It was terrifying how some of the killers could just do that.

Her hand gripped his tightly when the scream echoed across the trial ground. She looked around before spotting the young athlete running as fast as she could through the trees. Her hand gripped her side as she pushed herself, Tarhos not far behind.

"I know where one is that was about halfway done," she released his hand quickly, realizing she hadn't released him yet. "Follow me."

Nerissa waved and ran toward a group of wooden walls. The closer they drew the louder the generator became. When she spotted it, sparks shot out and the pistons began to slow. As quickly as she could, she opened up the side panel to prevent the regression.

"This must've been the one she was working on."

[dimensionalspades]

.     He's lounging back on the log behind him like he's ready to sleep, but he wasn't quite ready to yet. The warmth of the fire keeps him comfortable, though, arms crossed loosely over his front.

He worried about her. She was so terribly young to have here, but there was nothing any of them could do to help her, spare her. She was just as trapped and none of them chose who went into the trials. At the question, he chuckled.

"Where I originally intended to go," he replied. Energy swam over his tattoos. "Out of a dungeon. But now? Back home." He shifted in his place, leaning foward with elbows on his knees. "Portoscuro was by the ocean. You could smell the seawater from miles away and in the evenings, it was like a painter spilled their paints along the horizon, beautiful pinks and blues and oranges- magnificent to see. You have seen a... terrible version of my home. But the entity decided to curse it further by removing the ocean in this hell."

"Old man," Ellie taunts, poking the fire with a handy stick. It doesn't do anything, but the sparks it sends into the air as the logs shift are pretty. Truth is, she's isn't ready for another round either. They come thick and fast, and though she always wakes up intact and uninjured, that doesn't make the pain any less real. Not that she's going to admit to any of that. Never. She wants the others all to think she's a little bit mad, eager for another round, but ultimately unbothered by the horrors.

"Oh, yeah?" She looks at him, poking stick forgotten. "Where would we go? C'mon, paint me a word picture. Say you got the best night sleep ever and you got all your energy back. Where are you teleporting us to?"

[dimensionalspades]

. There was silence for some time, curious, of course, but still wary. This could be an unprecedented chance to understand those placed in the role of killer.

. "I have found that gods are neither merciful nor benevolent." He paused. "Nor are they always gods." He didn't like to think of the Entity as a god, but there was little other language to describe it. Though it was ages ago that he was in the real living world, he remembered the church and its teachings, how pious and self-righteous so many of its ilk were; how feverish they were to convert others. Research into other religions revealed equal supposedly benevolent beings that smiled on violence inflicted by their devoted apostles.

. "Are you not curious about this realm?" He asked after a moment. "If I can find a way out, I will." He'd escaped an impossible situation before. Traveling had been muted in this realm- only able to travel between the Entity's 'trials' and inspect the empty grounds. "Maybe that will only be achieved through some kind of cooperation."

How strange. The cenobite had not expected to be so disarmed by the survivor. Although, granted, it did not expect to ever be disarmed by a survivor. Admonishing itself for its hubris, the Priest lingered in stillness and silence for a long while, observing Toscano and the way light and magic seemed to flow through the markings on the side of his neck. It had been too quick to presume. This stranger was, evidently, more complex than the usual prey it found in trials.

At long last, it replied only after it was clear Toscano had no intention of fleeing.

❝ I am kept here against my will, yes. From one god to the next, I have been transferred like so much chattel. I would not have entered this place, could I have made the choice. ❞

It paused, blinking, visibly uncertain. One might even say it appeared uncomfortable.

❝ But what does that matter to you? ❞

[dimensionalspades]

. It'd crossed Vittorio's mind more than a few times that the cenobite could lie to him. But being on the hunt for knowledge again was invigorating. After so long of little to no answers, he had one that would speak to him. Difficult to understand, sometimes, sure, but Vittorio was far more interested when things weren't simply handed over. For all its first impression as a ruthless, painful killer, sitting here with @possessedchain, Vittorio felt very little apprehension by now.

. When the scene vanished and it produced the box, Vittorio's eyes locked onto it, instantly interested. So much of the trials were such blurry, adrenaline-soaked affairs that whatever he did during always passed too quickly.

. But now, in the quiet of this eerie place, Vittorio could perhaps understand it further. Without much more thought, he took it, far too interested to be concerned about anything else.

. "Who incurs such a debt? Anyone?" He asked, focus sharp on the box as he turned it in his hands. He could feel the texture, now, see the almost invisible seams, eyes roving over the symbols on it. Each side was inspected, fingers careful as they turned it and tested what could be pushed or slid.

. "You were brought through a door to collect something, and the door was closed behind you, then?" he reiterated, his voice somewhat distracted in his concentration. Flesh had certainly been collected at multiple points. Both from himself and others. "The Entity that created this realm, it must be strong enough to keep the conduit closed."

It would be lying if the Priest had said it had not felt some age-old desire to take full advantage of Toscano's cooperative state. After so many years in service to Leviathan, it had honed the ability to wriggle its way into a human's good graces into a sharp edge -- but now, its further success likely hinged on its ability to abstain from the temptation to do him wrong. Giving a silent sigh, with bloodstained fingers, it produced a small burst of electricity from thin air, manifesting a small illusion of unfamiliar shapes.

Scrolling across the little pane of visibility the illusion produced, a vast expanse stretched in all directions, knotted with an infinite labyrinth. Above it all, the great diamond, Leviathan, watchful and hungry, bleeding ink into the bleak heavens.

" The intended function of the lament configuration is to create a conduit between Hell and the mortal plane with one purpose: to collect a debt of flesh. When the debt is collected, the conduit is closed only after we return from whence we came with what we are owed. "

At once, the illusion vanished, and in its place, the cenobite manifested its accursed puzzle box.

" So, then, tell me -- where is my conduit? "

As it moved nearer to the scholar, its alien grace afforded the Priest the appearance of floating. Stopping just a few feet shy of him, it held the configuration out to him in a gesture entirely unseen.

It offered the box to him willingly.

" Perhaps it requires a certain touch. One such as myself cannot provide. "

[dimensionalspades]

. Sometimes he wanted to tell the knight that he could take the armor off on occasion. Vittorio wouldn't be causing harm to him any time soon. But as he'd come to understand about him, Tarhos did things his own way. He would rather the other be comfortable in his space than push his boundaries. He wanted the knight's trust, and he'd hardly gather that if he showed himself to be untrustworthy.

. He wasn't surprised about the confusion. Watching Tarhos' expression, Vittorio set his pen down, giving the other his attention.

. "Considering how well you fought them off, I would be shocked if they ever made the attempt on anyone else," he replied. Part of that was a joke, he didn't think someone changed their ways after a singular encounter. But the rest was completely assured that only a fool wishing for death would challenge the knight more than once, considering that he was certain if he hadn't commanded Tarhos, the would-be assassins would be as dead as their companions.

The chair gave an audible creak beneath the weight of armor which wrapped around Tarhos' large frame. His thoughtful expression fell to the papers scattered upon Toscano's desk momentarily, and the hair which usually obscured his scarred features was pulled back — with just small strands of long dark brown locks draping before his face. In contemplation he scowled, before finally meeting the duke's eyes.

Toscano had proved confusing, and sometimes frustrating to Tarhos. He had served beneath many lords who often valued him more as a blade than for any sense of personhood, yet Vittorio was different. Instead, the other man told him to stand down. To show mercy even when his adversaries could be struck down with ease. It was a different teaching than the familiar ruthlessness of the Guardia Compagnia.

" ... The assassins. " The knight spoke, a recited professionalism in his accented tone. " You are not concerned of them returning for another attempt? "

[dimensionalspades]

. He sighed, staring at the fire with a frown. "There is much war has taken from us. Too much has been eaten by violence and greed, it is astonishing we have survived so long as a species." He waved a hand dismissively, as if trying to wipe away the notion of war in its entirety.

He chuckled at her reassurances. "I appreciate that. Hopefully the trees recovered well." His grin to her was more wry, aware that his more... sensitive disposition wasn't shared by all, and appreciating the kindness she showed.

"Ah, how true! The dead can tell us as much about the future as the past. History repeats itself in so many ways. I am sure you've seen this in your studies as well."

"It does break the heart to know how much knowledge was truly lost. So much history destroyed due to wars and time, a shame there's no way to carefully preserve it all." Beyond what her memories held. And they held everything in such perfect clarity, it was a miracle she hadn't been driven mad by what she was able to retain all these years. "That we do. That we certainly do."

Realizing what she said might have offended his peaceful nature, she held a hand up, "The targets were all trees, I assure you. No people were hurt in the lessons." And it was even more fun with a belly full of mead. "They were and I will. There's value in learning both from the dead and the living. The dead can show us where we came from and help us appreciate what we have, the living can teach us where we're heading and to appreciate living in the moment."

[dimensionalspades]

. "Ah, I have been there! My uncle oft spoke at length about the library. You would have thought he experienced the tragedy himself." He remembered being enthralled about the idea of such a place of knowledge, and had decided even as a child that he would craft his own Alexandria. The castle library wasn't nearly as large, but it was impressive on its own. "Hard to tell! We span the breadth of the world between us all."

He made a face at the notion of throwing axes, the expression somewhat unnerved, but it settled after a moment, still listening to her. "They sound good company, then. I am sure you'll keep those experiences for life. I am envious! Most of my work revolves the culture of the dead, not the living. Both have so much to teach us, though!"

Kassandra smiled to herself hearing him speak on Egypt's history and fringe societies. Two things she has very first-hand experience with. More than most, she'd be willing to venture. "Have you ever been to Egypt yourself? I went once, years ago, stood where the Library of Alexandria once stood. There's so much history there, a beautiful place." Kassandra chuckled, "I wonder who, among the three of us, is the most well-traveled?"

The smile faltered for a moment. Oh, how her heart missed Ravensthrope and longed to return to that time. "I was with them for a little while, a year or so. I think I learned how to handle my mead better, and they taught me how to throw an axe. But I learned their prayers and their festivals. I think I took their work ethos to heart, for certain. They are a hearty people." While she had never been religious, a part of her was envious of their faith, the truth weighed on her for centuries. It could never be unlearned.

[dimensionalspades]

. He thought on the library for a moment, sighing as he tried to think of the most interesting ones. "We've collected quite a few about Egyptian archeology and lawmaking, I have a few tomes that cover medicinal plant uses by some fringe societies, and I've made a section for fiction, if you enjoy those types. My copiest is a fantastic man who almost does more traveling than me!"

He stretched again as he listened, shaking out his legs a few times. "Ah! Quite lucky, then. I imagine they allowed for a great deal of experiences. How long were you with them? Any practices you took into your daily life?" Perhaps he could be too hard on the faithful. In a way, his work had become his religion, fanatical in his desire to spread the notion of the Observers. But his belief was in a world without war, not a world that bent to his rule based on the supposed presence of a deity.

Kassandra didn't even need to eat and yet she could put away food like it was nobody's business. Call it a leftover effect from when she had to live not knowing when her next meal would come. She especially loved trying the food of the cultures she encountered.

"Oh, and now you fully have my interest. Most of my tomes are home in Greece, kept under lock and key. Not necessarily information most people should have access to, given the nature of the items I hunt." A brow raised in curiosity. "What other sort of tomes do you have?"

"I was taken in by a Norse village for a time. They still practiced the old ways, one of the few people in the land Christianity could not claim. They taught me the old ways of worship and festivals. They were very welcoming." She may have lied a little, but how could she explain she lived in a settlement in England when the Viking practices had died out about two centuries past?

[dimensionalspades]

. He nodded in agreement. He was never a particularly voracious creature but for the times that he had gone without food too long and someone reminded him. Those times, however, he'd probably fight the cosmos itself for even a small scrap of sustenance. Being stolen by a bird... unforgivable!

"And mine is grand! My uncle collected tomes for many years befgore I began to help in bringing more. Some are not strictly about our research, but..." he shrugged. "There is some merit in those tomes as well."

"Ah? Do you have a favorite, then?" He asked. "Some culture you've experienced that has stuck out to you? I'm afraid my studies focus on those no longer with us rather than my neighbors."

Ikaros had finally settled in a nearby tree. It seemed the faithful companion had grown tired of flying and she often wondered if he also was cured of the feeling of fatigue as she was. The staff made him immortal by proxy, but did he have the other side effects? He still seemed to have a voracious appetite, or perhaps it was out of habit.

"It's a shame to lose any food not willingly given." She adjusted her armor, still not feeling the wear of being on the road for some time.

"It is, they don't know what they're missing." Not that she'd ever hang around those institutions for long. The longer she stayed in any one location the more likely her secret was to get out. Plus as much as she longed for a more peaceful existence at times, she couldn't ignore the call to action she felt in her bones. It was who she was, she couldn't change it if she tried. "I'd definitely be interested to see your tomes, a good library is never to be looked down on." For a moment, she paused, mulling over her answer. "Traveling. Hunting. I like experiencing new cultures. No better way to learn than to be there and experience it for yourself."

[dimensionalspades]

. "Of course," he ground out- not because he was lying, but because he still ached. What a cruel thing the Entity was, letting its victims be made whole right before allowing a monstrosity to tear them apart again. "I do not wish to lose friends, even temporarily," he chuckled, his tone more charitable now that the pain was beginning to recede.

"I appreciate your efforts. I am made new again." There was a mild note of theatricality- he believed what he was saying, but he'd begun to understand his way of speaking could be odd to those younger. He could hear the groaning thrum and clunk of a generator completing. With that, lights flared across the grounds.

Now they were in the final stretch, yet again. Some energy flowed through him at the prospect of returning to the campfire, to others, away from stinging blades and laughter trailing his heels.

"I remember a gate this way, come." He motioned for her to follow, beginning his jog through the dense trees.

If she didn't need both hands to drag him she would have used one to clamp over his mouth and prevent him from drawing any more attention to them. It seemed unfair to have just enough strength to lift a larger survivor off the meat hook but not any other time. But the Entity was a cruel bitch and loved its little games.

"Love hurts and I'd like to believe you'd drag me to safety," she replied, choosing not to look up from the medkit, afraid of what his expression and eyes may reveal. Upon arrival into the fog, she had attached herself to him but that didn't mean he reciprocated the friendship.

Her hands remained steady as she cleaned and disinfected the wound before binding it with gauze. With it in place, relief should be washing over the older man. One saving grace of the Entity's ignorance of the real world was how long a wound would take to heal. Or maybe it was aware and ensured a quick recovery to instill another grain of hope in them.

[dimensionalspades]

. Healing here was unnatural. You became wounded, and then with the barest of medical assistance, you were healed. The Entity wanted you in tip top condition so it could further break you, of course.

He hated that energy flowed, renewed by Faye's seemingly eternal kindness towards him. He appreciated it. In every case where one may wish to give up, she was there.

He didn't quite understand it, but he would accept it- even when he ached and wanted to sleep it all away.

"You have my thanks, however begrudging, culver." He slowly pushed himself up. "We make it out of here, mm? The Entity will not have us today." Unfortunately. He peered out the window, frowning, then turning back to her. Howling carried across the oddly still place, signaling that it was time to escape this particular hell.

"Let's go."

If she didn't need both hands to drag him she would have used one to clamp over his mouth and prevent him from drawing any more attention to them. It seemed unfair to have just enough strength to lift a larger survivor off the meat hook but not any other time. But the Entity was a cruel bitch and loved its little games.

"Love hurts and I'd like to believe you'd drag me to safety," she replied, choosing not to look up from the medkit, afraid of what his expression and eyes may reveal. Upon arrival into the fog, she had attached herself to him but that didn't mean he reciprocated the friendship.

Her hands remained steady as she cleaned and disinfected the wound before binding it with gauze. With it in place, relief should be washing over the older man. One saving grace of the Entity's ignorance of the real world was how long a wound would take to heal. Or maybe it was aware and ensured a quick recovery to instill another grain of hope in them.