#col22rex

ruina rex: part ii. with @cvnstantin​ 

[They shouldn't serve wine at a wake. Well, perhaps that was a little harsh. Correction: they shouldn't serve wine at a wake to two astronauts who were still gravely underweight and didn't have any lasting connection to the person being lowered into the ground.

She isn't sure how she got to the end of her first glass, but something compelled her to get a second one. That's when it really hit. Her head felt light and her tongue felt heavy, all of a sudden she didn't want to stand still, and it felt too hard to balance on her legs anyway, so she kept alternating between swaying and leaning heavily onto Costin, by her side. She wasn't sure if Constantin had accompanied her in this journey, but judging by the way he was also growing restless, it was safe to assume.

How long had it been since she'd gotten like this, giggly, wine drunk? Once upon a time, before the world went to shit, she used to hold her liquor better -- not that she was ever a hardcore drinker, but she could handle herself better than a glass and a half of shitty, watered down wine.] No, but I'm serious, [she whispers to Costin, leaning her shoulder against his, head ducked down so she won't be heard by the others.] It'd be great fertiliser, I'm just fucking saying!

COL22 EVENT  ╬  RUINA REX: “THE FUNERAL” ╬  part ii

Kiss your perfect day goodbye Because the world is on fire Tuck your innocence goodnight You sold your friends like guns for hire Go play with your blocks And now you'll pay when these walls come tumbling down Oh, they're tumbling down                                                —Guns for Hire, Woolkid [x]

The day dawned bright and unseasonably warm, as though nobody had thought to tell the sun that it was to be a grim day. Breakfast was a subdued affair; anyone with a hand in the funeral wasn’t present, whether they were discussing last minute changes to the ceremony or ensuring the coffin was properly sealed, and those that were present talked only in hushed tones. It was out of respect, in some cases. In others, it was out of a furtive need for privacy as people discussed whether a man like Kaiser could really be felled by something as mundane as an aneurysm.

It was the first grave in many years that had been dug at the Natural Memorial and it felt momentous to different people, for different reasons. At the foot of all those thin, sickly trees lay a hole, vacant for now. Soon it would be Kaiser Bahr’s final resting place, and as Colony 22′s first martyr (if one believes the rumours), it would likely change the meaning of the Memorial forever. It would be impossible to go to the trees now and not think of him.

There was certainly no risk of anyone forgetting him today. If he had few he called friends in life, it seemed as though the whole Colony turned up to say goodbye this morning, gathering in little groups around the grave, which was presided over by the Colony’s own reverend, Enoch Lynch. Cambie, while arranging the funeral, had hesitated to approach him since by no account was Kaiser a religious man, but if nothing else Enoch knew how to lead a funeral and she’d really had no idea who else to ask.

She’d had no idea what ought to be said, either. They couldn’t incite a riot, but it was difficult to talk about Kaiser without acknowledging his extreme beliefs—and yet getting into that would only anger the NWRF. His son, Diederick D’Mornay didn’t have the energy for much input beyond ensuring nobody accused Kaiser of being a good father. In the end, the ceremony was simple by necessity. Enoch spoke, the crowd listened, and heads were bowed respectfully as the coffin was lowered into the ground.

With the formalities completed, attendees were invited to move to the chapel where there would be a wake. This was when the rain came. A sudden, bellowing downpour, driving citizens inside in scurrying lines. It was as though the skies had now caught up and wept for this unexpected death, swollen tears from angry clouds nobody noticed rolling in. Perhaps Kaiser had sent them. Perhaps his followers, fallen before him in the wastes, in riots.

Inside, the chapel was muted and eerie beneath the thundering on the roof. At the end of the room was a charcoal portrait of Kaiser, hand drawn by one of the more artistic members of the Colony, a wreath of synthetic flowers, a few candles and an abstract tapestry to make a memorial of sorts. It was carefully apolitical, and as a consequence felt as though it were missing something. The pews had been pushed to the sides of the room, with a few tables scattered through the space left by them. What might pass as a buffet was laid out— sausage rolls, mini sandwiches, potato salad, cheese and meat, chocolate cupcakes, the sort of finger food that is easily eaten while milling around. There were even a few bottles of wine set out, though the guards made it clear they were keeping an eye out for anyone taking more than their fair share.

Since Enoch had done his part, Cambie was unwilling to ask more of him— instead she took the lead herself, and went to the fore of the room to say a few words about Kaiser, and to invite anyone else that had stories to share to go up at some point over the course of the afternoon.

And with that done, the rest of the afternoon’s proceedings were left in the hands of the residents of the Colony. While Cambie hadn’t known Kaiser terribly well, she felt pretty confident in her conclusion that he’d not want his funeral run exclusively by Elites. He was a man of the people, and the people should be the ones using their voices now.

Alois: Hey. I saw the announcement this morning.

[She hadn’t been in the labs that morning. She knew why she wasn’t. Kaiser was going in. His testings were always more carefully watched. The people that could test him had to be unaligned. And they certainly couldn’t be people like her. People who made his blood boil. She had no problem sitting it out. There had been too many times she’d had close calls with him. Where she’d seen his anger get the better of him and had him lash out at her. She remembers the anger he showed her once, how he grabbed her by the throat. Not too hard, but hard enough. It was a threat, it was a show of power and control. Yes, it had hurt, but it had terrified her more than she let him know. 

She’d spent her morning down in the infirmary, not doing much, just checking on a few people who had been in with minor injuries, just checking off charts, making sure things were fine when her peaceful morning came to an end. She heard doctors and staff clamoring, a panic she hadn’t seen since she shadowed in the ER. “He’s becoming unresponsive.” “Get Cuthbert in here now!” 

Her curiosity and knowing that she was a nurse on hand, Percy went towards the commotion but froze when she saw who was laid out on the bed, his body stiff and limp at the same time. Everyone is rushing to do what they can but in what feels like too short an amount of time, Dr. Cuthbert is calling a time of death, and Percy feels like she’s been hit by a truck. She knows it wasn’t just a few seconds, but it feels like it. He’s gone before she can even process what’s happened. Her hand goes to her neck, touching lightly, absentmindedly as she looks at him, the life gone from his eyes. And she remembers times she’d seen him softer. Not someone here just to cause problems, not a violent man. But all those sides are gone in a minute and he’s gone. No loner a man. Just a body. Just a corpse. 

In the following hours leading up to the announcement of his death, and the murmuring of rumors start to spread, Percy finds herself seeking out someone she’d really rather not. But answers were important, and even if she didn’t always trust Clove and his motives, she knew he was there. And maybe he’d be honest with her. But with people whispering that the NWRF may have done something to him, she had to know what happened. She had to know how they’d reached this point.

She knocks lightly on the door to his office.] Do you want to talk about it? [she asks, calmly. Softly. She’s not accusatory or even upset with him. Because as worried as she was that perhaps something had happened, she thinks it may be unlikely. She doesn’t think Clove did anything to him. She thinks he’d be the one dead if he’d even tried.] Can we talk about it?

COLONY WIDE NOTICE—RE: MEMORIAL SERVICE

SUNDAY, APRIL 9TH, 2163, 7:05PM

PDD READS: Good evening citizens. We hope everyone is taking care and looking out for one another during these trying days. We would also like to extend our further condolences to those in mourning, and our appreciation to everyone for your patience with regards to Mr. Bahr’s memorial. 

A burial service has now been scheduled for 10:00am tomorrow morning (Monday the 10th), to take place at Colony 22′s Natural Memorial. A wake at the Chapel will follow. Our sincerest gratitude to Delma Head of House, Cambie Andrews, for taking on the responsibility of making these arrangements. Your generosity and compassion are an invaluable asset to this colony. 

Regards, 

COL22 EVENT  ╬  RUINA REX: “HOWL” ╬  part i

The lab techs always prepped with a bit more finesse—not to mention tension in their shoulders—on the mornings when Kaiser Bahr was scheduled to come in for testing. He could rarely be considered a cooperative participant, but ever since the New Wave, taking disruptive patients off the roster list for testing was no longer an option. Because now, it was political. Testing was mandatory not just for the sake of the scientific research, but also as a display of dominance and control. The Reformists couldn’t let a known Radical leader off the hook for testing purely for being disruptive, because then others could take that as a cue to follow suit. Besides, if they were trying to send a message about cooperation with Colony Officials and the New Wave Mandate, excusing a violent and disorderly Infected citizen from testing would be sending the wrong one. It was about principle, about setting a precedent.

So there was a palpable but familiar anxiety hanging quietly in the room as the looming German stalked into the testing unit, a correctional officer at each elbow.  Given how much time he’d spent in the correctional wing as of late, they might’ve cuffed him had he not been a Telekinetic. As it stood, cuffing him would only make him angry, and an angry Kaiser Bahr was a significantly challenging beast to control.

Now, there are many reasons why Lab Techs and Researchers beg the NWRF Reps not to interrupt during testing. On paper, a Rep is ‘allowed’ into the labs whenever they feel it’s necessary. But this work wasn’t theoretical; it was experimental and science didn’t care about politics. Passers through simply coming and going as they pleased was highly discouraged by the techs, and this particular morning, with Kaiser begrudgingly seated in a chair hooked up to an EEG, was an excellent example as to why.

Clove Modius insisted his interruption would be brief—he also insisted it was important. With instruction directly from Chancellor Quinn to clarify something in the most recent progress report on the classified work with the specimen sample, he walked with an important stride as he approached Narcissa Shor at their station.

Shor’s work station was across the room from where testing was being conducted, but apparently—and unsurprisingly—a bit of distance wasn’t enough to make Kaiser Bahr forget his venom for Clove and everything he represented—a figure among many who put Kaiser here, who was responsible for the leather straps around his chest, the silver discs stuck to his scalp. Kaiser’s greeting, as well as unnecessary, was predictably scathing. The man never missed an opportunity to insult a Reformist, just as Clove never missed an opportunity to bite back when an Infected crossed a line. In retrospect, the lab techs would come to wish they’d intervened in the hostile exchange, because they were powerless to act when Kaiser decided to hurl a chair towards Clove. It had to be assumed that he intended to miss, because Kaiser wasn’t known for inaccuracy when it came to his telekinesis. A power play, then: the chair splintered into kindling against the wall, and the lab techs scrambled to do something, anything to prevent any further destruction.

As though unaware of the chaos he had just caused, Kaiser set his gaze levelly on Clove with a vulpine smile on his mouth. “Did I scare you, little boy?” he asked, his voice like gravel. Low as it was, it still carried over the noise of the lab techs. One of them hurried out, mumbling about bringing Angel Thorne in before Kaiser did any further damage. Another collected the broken pieces of chair with an air of weary resignation.

As it happened, nobody was quite looking at Kaiser when a strange look came across his face, rolling like sharp thunder across the storm clouds of his eyes. They certainly looked a moment later, though, when he barked with pain.

There was a moment of silence as all present tried to process the noise they’d just heard—such a curiously vulnerable, animal sound from so strong a man. And then he really howled, hands clawing at his head as though he could break through his skull and scoop out the thing that was causing him such agony. With the organized panic that can only come from medical professionals who have been too long without an emergency, they descended then and tried to prise Kaiser’s hands away, to shine a little torch into his eyes—one lid drooped, and he glared blindly out at them—and to haul him out of his chair.

Clove watched.

“Message the infirmary, tell them we’ve got a big, German fuckin’ problem,” one of the techs grunted, trying to bear the weight of the man on his shoulder. That was the moment they realized how serious this was. The Kaiser they knew would never allow himself to be hauled around. His full weight, it seemed, rested on the lab tech, and he rent the air with another awful cry. Someone threw the door open to allow them out, eyes wide and panicked.

And Clove watched.

╬

Kaiser Bahr would be pronounced dead before the hour was up. Doctors quickly deduced a brain aneurysm as the likeliest cause of death, but until a proper autopsy could be performed, they couldn’t be sure. Even then, there were no guarantees. But what officials did have, were the EEG results, since Kaiser’s brain activity was being monitored at the exact time of the aneurysm. Those documents were immediately classified and fast tracked for close study— by authorized personnel only, of course.

When the passing of the would-be New World Radical leader Kaiser Bahr was announced to the citizen body, it would take little time for conspiracy and fear to rip through Colony 22. While the NWRF none-too-subtly inferred that it was likely the long-term overuse of his Telekinesis putting strain on Kaiser’s brain which eventually lead to the aneurysm, scientists and medical professionals of Col22 are neither confirming nor denying this theory publicly. Meanwhile, rampant rumours spawn from the anxiety of the unknown and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the Radical’s death. Word would get out that Kaiser collapsed in the testing facilities, while an NWRF Rep was present, no less. Was there more to the story? Could the NWRF be trying to cover up an accident or experiment gone wrong?

Or worse, could this death have been an execution?

Just dropping in for a quick update! Maddie and I have discussed the event progress, and we’re going to aim to have the next phase of the plot drop sometime early next week! This isn’t set in stone, but that’s a rough estimate! 

When it does happen, this will move the timeline forward into the 2nd week of April, which will include Kaiser’s funeral, and you will no longer be able to post any new threads that take place in the ‘Howl’ phase or before the Rex Ruina event. So if people are still hoping to get starters out that are specifically set the weekend of the announcement of Kaiser’s death (or before hand), please do so soon while you still have a chance! 

In other news, I have recently found a new (and better!) website to host our CaTC games (Cards Against the Colonies, for anyone who doesn’t know of them yet!) and am thinking of hosting another game once things are set up! Stay tuned!! 

Also, I know we’ve had a few lurkers over the past couple weeks! If anyone is still thinking about applying, I believe we’re expecting an app sometime next week, so just a head’s up if anyone else is working on anything and would like to get one in for the same round of acceptances! Keep your eyes peeled :) 

Ta for now darlings!

xxMod!Ro

It was a rare moment in his sleep where Roy felt calm.

There’s a moment where things are still. Calm. No noise, no static, no screaming. Just a cold sort of calm, like he’s floating. Or falling. He isn’t sure, he couldn’t be sure. Was it a dream? When did he have those that weren’t plagued with visions of death. It was eerie. It was unlike the calm he’d felt when the Reaper had left his mind--when everyone was sick. It was different. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. A cooperation with the monsters that lived inside of him; a shared moment of rest between and the devil that dwelled in his mind. A rarity. 

He feels like he’s standing, looking in a mirror, seeing himself. Calm. it’s strange how calm he feels. No dread or panic or worry. Almost like he’s let go. He’s drifting. 

and in the peace there’s a noise that rips through the silence, shattering the walls of this calm reality. the mirror shakes and cracks and in the reflection he sees his face twist and change into something horrific. There’s a flash of black, then light.

And Roy wakes; he feels present in his body again. Not with a start, but still calm. remembering the dream, still hearing that noise. Like a monster in pain. It echoes in the back of his mind. And for a moment there’s still peace. His body feels calm and still. Like a corpse. He doesn’t feel anything in this moment, no emotions. Just this eerie sense of tranquility. He isn’t thinking, isn’t feeling, isn’t questioning why he’s in this sort of state or what’s just happened 

He’s just calm.

-

People are just taking notes in class. He’s not really paying much attention. Tapping his pencil on the paper in front of him, a slow rhythmic bounce. There’s still this calmness around him that he didn’t usually carry. Roy was jumpy and would shake his leg and would mutter to himself in class, but today he’s silent. The only sign he’s even awake and present in his body is the tapping of his pencil. He’s in a haze that he hasn’t been able to shake all day. 

Until the PDD on his wrist lights up, vibrating and sending a chill through his body that lingered. A sense of dread that he couldn’t quite place. The taste of metal in his mouth. 

It isn’t just his that chimes, though. It’s everyone’s. 

He looks at the screen and that dread sets deeper into his bones. And all the noise in his head returns, mixing with the murmuring that breaks out in the room. The static, the screaming, the deep chilling rumble that felt like the devil was laughing in his soul. He feels sick. 

Dead. How could he be dead. Kaiser was like a building. He was a force of nature, he wasn’t... he wasn’t something that could die. Not like this, not in a quiet way in the early hours of the morning. Was it quiet? Or did they just want everyone to think that. A brain aneurysm. It sounds wrong. It sounds fake. Kaiser wasn’t that old, he was stronger than most of the people in this building. How could this have happened.

Something cold takes over his body. He feels frozen in his seat. A chill that scratches like claws down his back. We weren’t close, he thinks. But that’s not true. Kaiser had known him-- he’d known Kaiser. Kaiser practically told him he wanted Roy around. Wanted him to be a part of something bigger. Kaiser had tried to encourage him but Roy always shot him down because he was afraid. Afraid of himself. Afraid of what would happen to him and the people around him. And when Roy had chosen to wallow in self pity instead of standing up for anything, he’d distanced himself from Kaiser. Though in a weird way, there had been times Kaiser had been there for him. Times he’d gone to Kaiser or at the very least thought of doing so. 

And it’s now that Roy realized that in some of his darker times, Kaiser had been around him. Had tried to help him in his own weird way.

His advice was the closest thing to fatherly you’ve gotten in years.

Roy finds himself in a bathroom near the classroom. He doesn’t remember if he’d asked to leave or if he just left. He doubts the teacher cared. This isn’t your fault, this isn’t your fault, this isn’t your fault, he tries to tell himself over and over again. He’s shaking, he can’t breathe. His eyes are burning and he finds himself crying. Crying over a man he felt like he’d done nothing but disappoint. Too much like your real dad, huh? 

He wishes he’d eaten breakfast just so he could have something in his stomach. To maybe make the nausea less bad or so at least something would come from that feeling. It’d been a long time. A long time since someone died, someone he’d gotten close to. A long time since he had to face these fears. Since these fears were made real. 

Roy throws cold water in his face and when he looks up he stares into the mirror, seeing his twisted visage staring back, darkness around it, an inhuman smile on his face. 

“Why him? Why now?” Roy finds himself whispering, gripping the sink, feeling ill as the reflection moves; a sort of vertigo effect around the edges. It shakes and the noises in his head are louder. Screaming. He feels like his ears are about to bleed but he knows they won’t. It’s all inside. It’s all in his fucking head. 

There’s the laughter from the Reaper and Roy blinks. When his eyes open, focusing on the distorted reflection he sees Kaiser looming over his shoulder, eyes gone, bloody sockets remaining. Darkness gathered around him, his skin taught to the bone. He looks like he’s screaming. He looks angry and in pain. He reaches a hand out, touching Roy’s shoulder, something he did often--something he can feel the weight of-- and Roy is filled with a blind panic. 

It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happened. He’s backed up on the ground, in the corner of the restroom, clutching his hand. It takes a moment to remember where he is, why he’s here. It takes a moment to remember what he’d seen in the mirror, it takes a moment to remember lashing out, punching the mirror several times, harder and harder until he couldn’t see his reflection anymore through the cracked glass and his blood that smeared across it. 

He can’t stop thinking about his morning. How calm his head was. How he felt normal. How the Reaper felt cooperative, like there was no battle, like Roy didn’t have to fight to keep him quiet.