2nd Annual Halloween Block Party!

[gish]

The leaves have turned gold and orange, the air has grown crisp, pumpkins both carved and uncarved have begun to crop up. It's time to don your costumes, light your candles, pray you don't see any spectres (or do!), rev up your sweet tooth. Why?

Halloween is Here!

Inhabitants of the Nexus may recall the festivities from last year, but even if you're new or your memories are foggy, the fliers and invites have been floating around for the past two weeks or so. They urge anyone who wishes to celebrate the spookiest time of the year with friends, food and festivities over at The Crossroads Café. The entire block is sectioned off for the shindig, in fact! Black and orange streamers festoon the café and trees, along with hanging (plastic!) skeletons and bats, plenty of jack-o-lanterns and candles.

Welcome, one and all, to the Nexus 2nd Annual Halloween Block Party!

• Costume Loan: If you don't have a costume ready or are lacking access to one, the Café staff has you covered! Next to the coat closet is a rack of various options for dress-up with a sign simply stating: Feel Free to Borrow! Outfits, hats, accessories, masks; anything a person needs for a perfect last minute costume is there for the taking.
  
  
• Inside the Café: The doors to the Crossroads Café are propped open and awaiting your arrival! Seating inside the Crossroads Cafe comes at a bit of a premium, though for those who need the warmth and enclosure of inside there are certainly several tables inside, as well as couches and seating areas all around the bonfire outside the cafe.
  
  The lights have been dimmed for this special occasion and the display cases as well as the counters are laden with foods and treats from all over the Nexus. The far counter has been converted into a bar area for anyone in need of some liquid courage. On one table sits a large table set aside for people to share their own Halloween themed treats should they so choose. For now it's mostly empty, save for a large bowl in the center with a sign reading: Candy Exchange Program. There's sure to be something in there you've never seen before if you dig around long enough!
  
  
• The Bonfire: Out in front of the cafe in the middle of what is usually the street is a large bonfire in a rather large fire pit. Plenty of tables are set up near the fire, showing off pumpkins carved in all manner of spooks and designs. Seems like folks are welcome to bring their own jack o'lanterns and other festive creations if they so please.
  
  There's plenty of seating on one side of the large fire, though the other side gives way to a large, open area.
  
  
• The Dance Floor: On the far side of the bonfire where usually the outdoor seating goes is a marked off area for a dance floor. The large speakers ensure anyone walking by won't be able to miss the fact that there's a party going on. Several floating lights bathe the area in a golden light altogether separate form the light and heat the bonfire provides.
  
  Music from many different worlds plays continuously throughout the night. It beckons one and all to let loose and enjoy themselves on this night of celebration.

((Check out the OOC post here!))

EDIT 10/31/17: Something's gone wrong. [Phase 2: NIGHTMARE has begun!]
((Here's the OOC post regarding Phase 2!))
Here's where people go to wonder what the heck just happened. [Left Behind thread!]
EDIT 11/28/17: The Nightmare is over. [Finale thread!]
((Thanks for playing, everyone! And happy holidays!))

Comments

Salvation: The Finale

[grantuseyes]

Viatorus’ trek to the chapel is fraught with the sounds of howling wolves travelling the other streets, hunting unseen prey. The fact there is more than one where once there was only Harrowheart maybe cause for concern. But the urging of the augur makes it clear that it must be ignored. The task must be complete. The cage must be returned.

The chapel is as he first found it, door and windows alike alight with that baleful orange glow. The steps are painted red with a steady flow of blood running down them. Inside, the man who gave birth to this horrible Nightmare. And now, the dreamwalker has become the only one who can make it end.

Viatorus finds it a relief to finally see the chapel again, in fact. This has gone on long enough. People are upset, people are hurting. This isn't a just a bad dream anymore, this is the making of bad memories. When he gets to the chapel, he directs the cage to the open doorway and sets it down. Micolash should be able to see it. He hopes. If Micolash can see.

"Micolash," he calls out, inching closer to the doorway but staying away from the beams of orange light. "Micolash, I have the cage! Can you see it? Can you get to it? .... Can you stop the light? Just for a few seconds?"

The man lying limp in the middle of the chapel is like a corpse. There’s simply no other way to put it. Covered in blood, lying in a vast pool of it. All his clothing shredded from his frail body except for sorry, soaked tatters of sleeves and trouser legs from the elbows and knees; the only parts of him not afflicted by those terrible, incomprehensible spears shooting out from inside him. The scant evidence that he is not dead is only his back rising and falling fitfully, haltingly, his breathing laboured and stuttering.

There is a startling addition since the last time Viatorus looked upon this grisly scene. There's another person inside the chapel with Micolash. Maybe he'd seen her at the party before this entire ordeal began. An excitable, bubbly young lady with colourful pigtails, dressed in a skimpy ringleader costume. Though said costume is sporting plenty of its own tears now and is every bit as bloodsoaked as everything else in this building. She's unconscious, slumped near enough to Micolash to be holding one of his hands in hers. Someone who had arrived, perhaps expecting to be on death's doorstep, to give solace to the one person who's been the most alone since this all began...

Hearing his name makes Micolash stir only fractionally. A twitch of his fingers, a rasping sound upon one inhale. A small attempt to lift or turn his head that only ends with it limply splashing into his own blood once more. The orange light does not fade and it does not relent. There had been moments before where he could reign it in, try to suppress it for short times to let others get nearer. But no longer. His own waning strength has no impact on it weakening either. And who is to say what will happen if he finally, at long last, perishes?

What happens to a Nightmare when the dreamer himself dies? What happens to those walking within it when he perishes?

The augur in Viatorus’ mind has gone still and silent. Afraid.

For Viatorus himself, each glimpse into the chapel means bathing his face in that dreadful orange glow, and each time he pulls away into the safety of the shadows Viatorus’ head spins and his eyes stream. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. He has to get in there. He has to reunite the cage with Micolash, but someone has already tried to get to him. A shudder of fear runs through him and makes his stomach twist. The more he fears the harder it is to manipulate the world around him. For however long this world lasts…

In that moment he wishes loudly, desperately, that Isidor was with him. She would know what to do. She wouldn’t be afraid. She would simply… fix it. Maybe that’s what he needs to do. Stop being afraid and fix this. He’s so close. This can’t be where he stops. This can’t be where he falters. He needs to put an end to this. His friends are hurting, his friends are scared. In a dream! With him in it! No! No, this won’t do! This is nothing! A fever dream with teeth and blood, but nothing to be scared of…

Enough is enough.

If this dream wants to hurt him then he’ll have to change the dream.

He closes his eyes, calms his breathing and then, putting his hands out in front of him, he begins to pull at the dream. It’s like a twisting, wringing out cloth and changing it from wet to dry, a wooden puzzle that shifts from one shape into another, shining a light onto a dark nightmarish street to make it an idyllic overgrown wonder. It doesn’t want to change. It doesn’t want to shift. It’s stubborn, firm, but stone is weathered by water. It just needs… power. It’s a surreal skill that was passed on as his birthright. As difficult to grasp as dreamwalking, and not one he’s ever had much motivation to use, but right now it’s exactly what he needs. The power his blood connects him to is electrical, warm as the sun’s light, and it’s not dream magic he needs, it’s simply magic. Unfiltered, raw, bright and impossible to deny. Magic, make it so. Make it warm and bright. Make it safe. And it does. The Nightmare is stubborn and constructed from something dire and powerful. The formation of a liminal space between spaces with unknowable energy as the brick and mortar that constructs it. A mind projecting a steady flow of this energy to keep it solid, keep it constant.

But the dreamwalker has been in his element this whole time. And honing his craft his whole life.

The Nightmare yields.

The fabric of this dread reality loosens and bends as Viatorus wraps it around himself into something, someplace, more suitable. More gentle. A place of rest and not one of torment. And this fabric continues to bend around Viatorus, taking the form he deems necessary rather than that the frenzy cares to project. Within the swirling sphere around him the world is sunny, beautiful, buildings forgotten and overgrown but beautiful for it, but as soon as he steps away the Nightmare returns. Viatorus doesn’t notice. When he opens his eyes he doesn’t question it, he doesn’t wonder or look around curiously. This takes all of his concentration and he only has one task.

Stepping slowly towards the chapel, he stops to pick up the cage with one hand and keeps the other outstretched. The metal is heavy, and he has to set it down every few steps, but that’s fine. Moving slowly allows him to keep his concentration, and keep his resolve strong, a task that is made ever more difficult the closer he gets to his friend and the stranger. The Nightmare surrounds him with its unrelenting orange horror as Viatorus inches closer, his protective sphere imposing its own scenic version of the world onto this reality. It feels like it takes an age to reach Micolash, to step around the poor girl next to him, but eventually he gets there. Though he’s so close now, he becomes even more cautious as he kneels down without breaking his spell, inspects the cage beside him and slowly, awkwardly, tips it onto its side and slides it over Micolash’s head.

At long last, the cage is back upon the head that continues to feed this horrible place. The head that gave life and form to this all.

Micolash's body goes limp, all the tension of predicting pain and demise draining from his muscles. The orange light of frenzy weakens and, at last, dies, the last of it appearing as rays segmented by the iron bars it shines from behind. And at first, nothing happens. There is only the sound of Micolash's ragged, laboured breathing. And then?

The Nightmare yields once more.

Scenery goes blotted and faded, as if looking at it through rain-covered windows. Things begin to drift and separate. Cobblestones spreading out from one another, shingles rising lazily from the roofs and into the air. Dripping or downward flowing liquids soon does so in reverse. The moon's light begins to glow brighter.

And then, slowly, it fades. Starting at the outer reaches of the plaza and creeping steadily inwards. Buildings swallowed into black, roads falling away into nothing, lanterns and light posts having their glow smothered beneath a travelling haze. Bit by steady bit, the Nightmare is undone. Returning to the nothingness found between stars that made it.

Soon it is all darkness to anyone who unfortunately found themselves in this horrible place. Except for the moon. Brighter than ever, it is all that is left, hanging in the sky and visible from anywhere. Even where people may have, just moments prior, been standing indoors.

And when it vanishes into a silvery vapour?

There is the sensation of falling. Dropping from one reality and down into the next. Depositing the dreamers back into the Waking, where they will find themselves once more in a setting that feels like they'd last been ages past. A bonfire, a café, costumes and lights and food.

They are back in the Nexus, their ordeals behind them and vanished. Like a bad dream.

[plagueofdeception]

The screaming stopped, and he heard the breaths.

While the first thoughts were concerned with that man's health, the way the scenery gives way feels somewhat... Comforting.

T̸i҉̨m̷̶͢e̸͡ i̛s u͏p.̷͡ ̴͢T̶h̨͠e͠͞ ͟N̸͟iģ͢͡h̢t҉̧m͜҉͞á҉͏ŗ̵e͘ ͢ì̶s̸ ́͠͠d̡e͠a̶͠d҉.̧̨

Anyone who hasn't been in the Nightmare will not recognise the plague doctor in white standing in the middle of the plaza. He is eerily silent as he surveys his surroundings, quietly searching for someone...

Suddenly, he sets off. He weaves through the crowd of reunions, mumbling muffled excuses as he accidentally bumps into people in search of that one man. Someone's gotta check on Micolash. Wherever he is.

By the way, if anyone finds a spray bottle with a steampunky dark ages asthetic, that belongs to the plage doctor. He kind of lost track of it back in Nightmare land.

[brother_alone]

It's coming apart.

The bobbleheaded fetus creatures trill and cry before vanishing into their misty hole they had been emerging from leaving Joshua all alone in a house that creaks and bleeds at the edges as the tiles raise up and away. He's craning his head back, taking in the dark inky blackness of the sky beyond. A stark contrast to the moon which glows and grows in luminescence.

"H...Harly?" No one answers. No footsteps approach. No one's here. You're alone. "Anyone? Wh..what's going on?!"

He's nearly on his feet when it all fades and Joshua falls. Lands none too gracefully on the hardwood floor of the Crossroads cafe. Bloody, shirtless, wide eyed and trembling with a real fear that stems from within rather than forced upon him from the outside.

Is this what snapping feels like? Is he having an episode? But it's warm in here and faintly, distantly he can hear voices. Josh ignores the stinging in his hands and knees and slowly pulls himself to his feet to look around.

Is it over?

[poetwarrior]

Faris may not be personally familiar with most of the people present, but it is hard to miss the scents of blood suddenly appearing seemingly at random across the grounds set aside for the party. So too do these scents match those he had noticed at the site that was the source of the psychic explosion, the traces of the missing.

So they have returned. Perhaps not all of them, but time will tell. For now, the K'da comes forward to offer his assistance, if it is needed. He carefully approaches one frightened human, unable to tell where the blood is coming from. "Are you injured?" he calls softly, pitching his voice to be what he assumes will be its most soothing. His scales are no longer the threatening black of battle, returned to their normal red-edged gold.

[brother_alone]

Well.

If he had any worries if they were safe, it shattered on seeing a giant ass lizard monster stalking up to him and speaking. Though it's not growling at him?? Which is really confusing. Still, Josh swallows and takes half a step back like a frightened prey animal would.

"I..I'm fine." A few superficial burns and several bruises. Pretty good considering the condition his partner is in. "Who are you?"

[sweetcandygirl]

It might seem like the Nightmare was just a bad dream... but the victims who were trapped all look like they have gone through Hell.

And while for most other people, the experience of returning to the Nexus café felt like waking up from a bad dream, that proves to be the exception for Harley Quinn. Who is laying unconscious, near where Micolash and Viatorus were returned to the Nexus café.

Harley is covered with blood. (Most of which belonged to Micolash). The ring master costume that she had worn to the party is torn and destroyed. The top half of it was torn into pieces of fabric, that currently bandage her stomach, where claw-shaped wounds are slowly healing on their own.

She wears a blood-soaked wifebeater, and has a infected bite mark on her right arm. She is holding onto Micolash's hand with her left hand, no signs of the metal bar that she had to use as a weapon.

Even in her unconscious state, Harley is somewhat aware of the fact that the pain caused by the orange light is gone. And a small smile forms on her lips.

I am a doctor.

[plagueofdeception]

Well, he was going to check up on Micolash, but there's an unconcious person laying nearby who he also kind of recognizes.

Well, he doesn't know her that well, but doctor instinct is kicking in.

Immediately, he kneels down to check Harley's pulse. How beat up is she? Is there anything he can use to fix her wounds? He doesn't have any bandages on him, but he faintly remembers the lantern he saw when he passed the cafe. Perhaps he can still talk to those monkeys... Or use the costumes from the rental rack. Anything is better than nothing at this point.

... Hopefully Harley doesn't freak out too badly if she wakes up now. At least the coat and mask is recognisable, right?

[smartass_captain]

The crumbling stone of the spire dissolves into the warping night. Were the younger Captain awake he'd no doubt be reminded of Hunter touching his watercolors to a fresh surface. Watching the paints bleed onto their target, twining and dancing. Around the older captain the shattered glass lifts off the ground around his body just as the stone does. Neither captain stirs at the fade of the orange light.

The chanting and the whispers fading to blessed silence. The cold damp chill of the night replaced by warmth. Even when they fall they slump and thud against the floor behind the bar in a tight little work area in the cafe. Out of sight from most of the partygoers these two lay in a tangled heap.

One captain bloody and in mussed leather armor with a sliced hand and bloody bare knees. The other shirtless and with a makeshift bandage around his shoulder that looks as though it's been stretched to its limits. A dirty bootknife clutched in the older captain's hand as they continue the only rest they're likely to get for a long time in their futures.

[boldygoing]

The worgen subsides with nary a whimper, sinking back into his human shell with little protest, bones cracking and rearranging back into their original shape. Jim hardly twitches as the ground beneath him gives way, dropping him unceremoniously on top of his doppelganger, edges of the leather armor digging into his side. His subconscious groan is barely audible, on some level aware of the ache spreading through his entire body, but unwilling to swim up to the surface of the all-encompassing blackness of unconsciousness to find out what the hell is going on.

Life is pain. It's hardly a surprise that it would follow him here too.

At least most of the blood on him is already dried. And most of it doesn't seem to be his.

[rogueinladysclothing]

She's still running. She's running hard and fast in any direction now. At first she was trying to get away from the worgen, but the further she ran, the more it seemed like she needed to keep running. Her legs burn and her lungs protest every breath she takes, but Amelia doesn't stop. She couldn't stop. Can't stop. Running is all she can do.

It's why she doesn't notice the changing of the scenery around and beneath her, why she trips when the cobblestones begin to move under her feet. And when she's about to hit the ground, she finds herself falling instead. It's the same as it was before, when this whole Nightmare started. But there's no light this time. No strange mark coming across her vision. There's only darkness, and weightlessness, and the sensation of being somewhere she doesn't really belong.

Her ass hits the pavement hard when the falling ends. Amelia looks up, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. It's the cafe? The... Halloween Party? Is it true? Is it real? She searches for faces she recognizes, utterly lost in the confusion of all of those trapped in the Nightmare reappearing suddenly. Part of her wants to call out to the people she knows, but what if they don't recognize her? What if this is another nightmare? She can't take that again, can't risk it. Her heart is only so strong and she's far beyond the limit of what her mind can handle.

There's too much happening all at once. Cursing and making small noises of frustration, the rogue tears off the cap and goggles of her costume, throwing them down beside her so hard the plastic lenses of the goggles shatter. Tears she's been holding back all night stream down her face as she begins digging furiously through her pouches. Her hairpin isn't on her - and she knows that - but if this is still a dream, maybe she can make it appear. She can learn to control this dream just like the ones she has on her own at night. It'll be here if she just keeps digging.

[mudblood_andproud]

There is a soft mewing sound, as a large orange cat pads closer to Amelia. Crookshanks can sense her confusion. Her desperation.

He lays out in front of her. Blinking at her, with big bright eyes.

[darkpiety]

Abysa spends very little time on the ground once he is certain the victims of the nightmare have returned; even with his height, he dislikes the chaos of weaving through a crowd. Once in a spot to do so, he lifts off to float about in the air, seeking the man who was at the epicenter of this unfortunate disaster. It doesn't take long to find him from the air, with there being a notable gap where folks have avoided a pool of blood with a naked, corpse-like man in the centre.

Abysa wastes no time reaching him, appearing by Micolash's side in a swirl of violet smoke. He kneels close, removing his outer hooded cloak as his invisible psychic limbs lift the man to a reclining position, cage and all. He wraps Micolash in the cloak, careful to keep him and the cloth suspended as to not be dampened by the surrounding blood.

"Be at ease, dear mortal, I am here. Can you hear me speak?" Abysa asks Micolash quietly, focused entirely on sensing his body's vital signs. What he is able to identify is not good. Actually, it's very bad. The priest gasps, despair evident in his face (his mouth?).

"I must heal you, and I am afraid I cannot ask your permission, so forgive me. I cannot let you die." He says quickly, hands shaking as he removes a wooden box from his satchel bag.

He turns the clasp that opens it, and within the box is a grid of metal meant to encase vials in each space. There are three vials inside, filled with red blood. Each vial sports a spring-loaded contraption on one end, meant to be injected as-is. Abysa quickly removes one, holds the correct end to Micolash's bare thigh, and activates. The blood infusion is startlingly fast, the vial draining quickly. Without missing a beat, Abysa sets the used vial aside, pulls a second from the box and repeats the process. Following that is the third and final vial. He sets the used vials away without touching them, the emptied vessels floating back into the container which shuts and locks seemingly on its own, the container then floating back into the priest's bag.

Abysa covers Micolash properly now, lifting him into the air with his psychic will to do so, the human now wrapped fully in the priest's cloak (save that damn cage), and then takes him into his arms to hold him. He concentrates on sensing Micolash's vital signs once more, and then exhales a shaking breath as he attempts to remain calm.

[grantuseyes]

The fact a portion of his shed blood returned to reality with the man who did the shedding is making this fortunate release from the Nightmare still a grisly ordeal. He is no longer actually bleeding and, in fact, there appear to be no obvious open wounds from which it all came. But it still is leaking steadily from his eyes, his nostrils, his mouth.

There is no response to Abysa's words, nor the administration of the blood vials as they're injected one after the other. Micolash is completely out cold, breathing shallow and laboured, his body gone limp.

Though the demon can take solace in the fact that, as the Old Blood works through the scholar's tortured veins, its healing properties set in swiftly. His pulse and heartbeat are no longer erratic and stuttering. The tissue underneath his blood-painted skin is knitting gradually, repairing the relentless tearing and strain they'd apparently gone through. His breathing begins to even out.

Looking the part of the martyr in some bizarre depiction of the pieta, Micolash lies in Abysa's arms, soaked in blood and deeply unconscious still.

[sweetcandygirl]

There was a young woman laying near Micolash, when Abysa knelt close to wrap up the other man in a cloak. She had arrived back in the cafe, covered in Micolash's blood, and holding onto his hand.

Harley watches Abysa as he focuses on the other man's vital signs. She moves out of his way, as he completes the blood infusion.

And then manages a weak smile of seeing Micolash wrapped up in the priest's cloak, and how Abysa holds Micolash. Harley hugs herself, relieved to see that someone is taking care of Micolash. She had been worried about him.

"He kept asking about the Old Blood. And Kosm..." She whispers softly.

[heirtothedragonsfire]

They're suddenly back in the Nexus. Everything feels normal again. Sounds, smells, sights he didn't realise he thought of as 'normal' give him instant reassurance. They're back. They're safe. Everyone's safe.

He steps back as the small rush of people come to help everyone, giving people room to tend to Micolash. Dream problems he can deal with, but all this blood... Now that he's in the waking world again he can feel his panic rising. A feeling that's interrupted by a tackle as Isidor launches at him, wrapping her arms tight around him. She's rambling, and he thinks she might he crying over his shoulder.

"It's all right. I'm all right," he assures her as he gently pats her back.

Still she sounds pleading as she tells him, "I tried to find you. I did. I tried."

"I know, and I'm fine. It was a dream, that's all," he explains. "Just a nightmare."

A nightmare. Her eyes clear enough for her to spot a cage standing up from the crowd. Isidor's sobbing stops. She straightens, her hands on Viatorus' shoulders, her eyes on that cage. "Stay here."

And then she barrels for Micolash. She doesn't care that he's unconscious. She barely notices the fire starting to lick her palms and curl around her fingers. All she cares about is Micolash, about how dangerous he is, about how he took her brother to somewhere dangerous where she couldn't help him. Given half a chance she'll grab at him. "You could have KILLED him! This was all your fault! You hurt all these people! You hurt him!"

Now in its proper place. :P

[chiron_survivor]

Carefully picking out bits of glass from Harrowheart’s face with a pair of first aid tweezers, Adia does not notice at first the Nightmare breaking apart around her. What does catch her attention is the Scythe of Elune. Formerly inert at her feet, it starts pulsating with a a soft glow, a pearly luminescence that gives it an indistinct, fuzzy look about its edges.

“Why is it doing that?” Adia whispers. The cobblestones shift beneath her feet and her heart begins to beat faster in a sudden panic. But before she can react otherwise, a soothing message emanates from the scythe itself.

Rest, child of the night sky. Your work is done.

The ground beneath her disappears completely, and she falls.

Softly.

When she opens her eyes, she’s back in the café, slumped awkwardly against a decorated wall. She takes in a breath, then another, and laughs weakly with relief. Viatorus did it, he put the cage back on Micolash and ended the Nightmare.

She scans the room for a sign of Ghost or Blaze, but instead finds only those who are far more injured than herself. She still has her first aid kit in her hands, and with the thought of helping her friends, she tries to get to her feet.

A wave of dizziness sends her slumped back against the wall. She shuts her eyes, waiting for it to pass. She’ll get up to help, she just… needs to take… a little… a little break first…

[slayers_desire]

April was trying to get as far away as possible from where Micolash had been returned. Everywhere she turned, she could smell the blood of those who got injured during their Nightmare encounters.

And her vampiric side was evident right now, since her eyes were blood red.

The most important thing to April was to try to find someone to help, that might not be as injured as the others who were dangerous for her to approach right now. In her quest to find someone to help, April noticed Adia slumped against the wall.

"Adia?" She approaches carefully. Not wanting to surprise the younger woman.

[rekindledtitan]

There are quite a few people milling around and Ghost simply won't stray from Blaze's side right now. In fact the little bot has decamped to hide out in his bigger partner's systems, out of sight and safe from getting separated again. It makes searching for their friends slower, and Blaze really badly wants to go pick a firefight. But they aren't leaving until they've checked in on everyone.

Ghost can help in one way, though. Before they actually come across Adia he's sent a message to her PINpoint asking if she's okay. Hopefully the device is working again. Though with all that Adia has on her mind, and the noise around them, the pair probably won't find her until after April's come to her aid and the shell-shocked party-goers have begun to disperse in earnest.

[rekindledtitan]

Dreams often have a frustrating end. To realize you've forgotten the partner you're sworn to protect, that he's lost in a twisted tangle of nightmare streets, then to feel yourself being snatched away just as you're sure you have his signal and he's barely a street away...

That certainly qualifies.

But when Blaze finds herself again (and thank the Light she knows who that is), she's back outside the café, surrounded by people, the scents of blood and decay vanished in favor of food and smoke and alcohol. She straightens slowly, looking all around herself and still muttering as her senors straighten themselves out.

"Thirty-seven, I'm thirty-seven..." Ghost. Where is-

"GUARDIAN!" A tiny light streaks above the crowd and comes diving down into her chestplate. Blaze wraps her arms around the little bot and hugs him as tight as she dares, laughing in pure relief. He knows her. He's here. He's real. She's real.

"Thank the Light you're all right!" She lets him go enough so he can float up to eye-level. "I'm sorry, should've found you sooner-"

"Blaze, it's all right. I'm fine. Adia was with me. Have you seen her?"

The Exo shakes her head. She certainly doesn't want to think about what happened to her back there. Doesn't want to sit and pick it all apart, not now. Not when she's free. "We'll check if everyone got out of... that... safely. Find out what the hell that was. Then we'll get out of here."

"I'm with you." He'd like to be back in the Tower now, thank you. Back in the nice, safe, familiar Tower full of protective Guardians.

Should anyone else find the pair first, that's where they'll be: striding between the distressed and relieved party-goers checking in on who's hurt and who they recognize. Katsuya, Tina, and Adia in particular...

[magnetite_plz]

"I presume you will want someone who can tend to anyone's wounds then?"

Angel's appearance behind Blaze is accompanied by a small ray of light and a flurry of stark white feathers. The demon is unaware that anything amiss has happened, though looking around now she's certain something did. A pang of guilt stabs at her for not being here sooner.

Then again, she hadn't been summoned sooner.

"Blaze. Ghost. What happened here? Are you well?" She reaches out with one hand to touch at the Exo's shoulder hesitantly.

[chocolatechipbadass]

"Blaze! Ghost!" Hunter had long since left Tina's side once the bodies started dropping back into the cafe but now she's pushing herself off of the counter she'd been sitting on and darting out before Katsuya can stop her. He doesn't try very hard though when he catches sight of the Exo.

He's just glad to see his friends back and safe.

"You're back!" Tina still hasn't caught sight of Reynard yet but two outta three ain't bad at all. If Ghost will let her Tina's pulling the little bot into a hug even as she moves into Blaze's personal space to get picked up herself. "I knew you'd be back."

Healer LFG

[magnetite_plz]

There are so many people here in various states of injury. Some being tended to but most not. Angel has her orders from Blaze and does her best to make herself visible hovering a couple of feet above the ground as she drifts through the cafe in search of anyone in need of healing.

"Is...is there anything I can help with?"

[shardofwinter]

They're back. Finally.

He doesn't believe it at first, expecting the calm to be broken by screaming, or sobbing. He waits, tense, until people begin to move and find each other again. Nothing bad happens. There's no screaming, no more pain, just reunions. This didn't just happen to him and Blaze, this happened to a lot of people.

He should make sure Adia is safe. He should make sure Tina is safe. Jim, and all of his friends. But he doesn't move to find them.

He looks at his arm, still clutched to his chest, and flexes his fingers slowly, as if uncertain they will move at all. They do. Everything is fine... So why can't he relax? His grip tightens on his arm to quell the tremor running through it. He casts an eye at the crowd, hunches his shoulders and tries to slink away.

[chocolatechipbadass]

There's a little stuffed rabbit sitting on the floor next to the door to the cafe's entrance. It looks as though it's been patched up a time or two and has a few stains of soot on its legs as though it's been drug around by someone who spends a lot of time playing with flammable things.

Its owner is sitting on one of the bar counters with her chin tucked into her hands. Waiting for the people she's lost to come back. She doesn't run around boisterously or laugh or bother those who've returned in any way. If anything it just make her heart sink into her stomach.

They have to come back. She has to believe in them. It won't be like Roland. Not this time.

She sits up straight, thinking she's spotted someone familiar. Pushes herself off the counter and quickly darts around the people gathered inside the cafe. It was only a glimpse and she's not certain she's right.

"R..rey?" One fragile hopeful voice calling out amid so many others. One small hand reaching out to try and grab hold of his cloak.

[chiron_survivor]

By the time she has gathered up her energy, most of the party has dispersed. The severely injured have been whisked away, the ones who could return home, either alone or with loved ones, have already done so. There's nothing for Adia to do but go back to her new home, too. To sleep off the rest of her exhaustion and deal with the knowledge that she's been fundamentally changed somehow by the evening's events, even if otherwise she feels okay.

She catches sight of Reynard. Opposing emotions clash within her -- the urge to run to him, to see if he's okay, and the equally strong impulse to hide, worried that he's found out about her exploits and will be angry at her all over again.

Instead, she stays put, catching sight of Tina. She didn't know that Rey was friends with Tina, but the bond between them is obvious. She's not sure if she's ever seen him so gentle or compassionate with anyone else.

And then she remembers. The advice he asked her once, over dinner. How to help a friend from a terrible world. If providing stability for nine months would make up for the three he'd be gone.

She smiles softly to herself, leans against the wall and watches the two of them. Decides that she'll send him a text later letting him know that she's okay. She wouldn't dare to interrupt their moment.