revivalproject | A Hunting Archivist

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A Hunting Archivist

WHO: Hunt!Jon & you
WHERE: Apocalypse!Temba
WHAT: Everything is wrong. Jon is a Hunter, out to chase some prey.
WHEN: During the event
WARNINGS: TBA
Note: No beastie traits for Jon at the beginning aside from sharp teeth. This might change during a thread.

A - The Change [ violence may happen - you set the hellscape for this one ]

Jon stands outside, looking up at the sky that looks so eerily familiar but at the same time utterly strange to him. "...it's looking back..." is all he can whisper to himself, quoting himself from what now feels like an eternity ago.

It's not the same eye. It's not The Eye. He would know, wouldn't he?

Or would he? He can't feel it. But at the same time he doesn't believe he should feel it. He hardly know how he is supposed to feel anymore. Aside from cold, maybe. It is cold. And dark. And loud. The blood is loud. It's calling him...

He lets his eyes fall away from the sky, to the ground before him. It's cold. And dead. No traces of any prey.

Wait. Prey? No, that can't be. That's wrong. It's wrong!

Shaking his head, Jon reaches up to press a shaking hand against his own temple before looking around, desperately looking for anyone who can confirm to him that this isn't happening, only to find himself shakily making his way towards the first being he spots, desperately calling out to them. "H-help me- please!"

And that's when everything changes again.

B - The Search [ hellscape starts out as The Hunt ]

These deep, dark woods feel just like home. This is where he belongs. This is where he can smell his prey, hear its very move, locate it so the chase can begin.

Thinking about it already makes Jon shake with excitement and he barely holds back a low growl. He breaks out of the deep woods and into an open clearing. Places where the strange eye above is unobscured by looming trees. But the Hunter doesn't care. He has found his prey and is approaching with measured, silent footsteps.

C - The Chase [ hellscape starts out as The Desolation ]

He had nearly caught up to his prey when the world changed again and soft forest ground turned into hard concrete, making it impossible for the Hunter to be the silent predator he is meant to be. Which doesn't mean Jon has given up, but he still pauses to take in his new surroundings, already missing the fresh, open air and the night sky around him.

There are walls and it is hot and he can hear the screams of those trapped behind closed doors.

Jon snarls to no one in particular. He can't stay here. He has to track down his prey. Randomly picking one direction, he starts down one of the corridors, ignoring the heat, the smoke, the flames. He will either find it, or be found first.

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The Eye remains, but the rest of the sky is a matte-green-black that reveals no other source of light. It stretches overhead, a boundless canopy over an seemingly equal boundless field. What little light is present proves just enough to outline the cold stones that mark graves and the marble profiles of the sparse, broken statues that overlook the still, resting places of the departed. A mist roams through the graveyard, slithering around tombstones and legs like a blanket of serpents.

The stillness is broken only by Jon's movement and the startled motion of someone else in the fog just beyond. A perhaps familiar glow of blue and amber gives focus to an equally familiar metal visage, the Exo whipping around at the voice he'd been sure he'd heard just a moment ago. He's still trying to wrap his head around what's happened, and even despite all the processing power he can put forth he still has no explanation, save that something feels wrong, and this situation- likely very bad.

"Jon?" he calls out, something in his mind finally connecting, and he starts towards the spindly man. "That you?"

Amidst the confusion of his surroundings changing entirely, the sound of a familiar voice is very much welcome and Jon makes sure to avoid any open graves he spots while carefully trying to reach the Exo.

"Cayde!" He exclaims, relief clear in his voice. "What is going on?!" A question, followed by a concerned look up into the sky. That eye remains as threatening as it has been before. Jon looks back at Cayde. now close enough to properly make out. "Y-you heard that too, right? The voice...?"

The voice. It's still clear in Jon's ear and he doesn't like what it had to say to them. He doesn't like what happened just after it made itself heard. And Jon won't deny that he is scared.

The Exo nods as he approaches, feeling just as relieved as Jon as he confirms the Archivist's presence, and not just some apparition. "I have no idea- was hoping maybe you knew," he says as he casts a furtive glance towards that distant Eye. "I heard it. Don't like it. I'm thinking it's those guys but how does that work with all...this?"

It's more than just being thrown into a setup. It's even more than a scenery change. There had been something inside of him that had changed too, he's sure of it, but he doesn't know how exactly to describe it. It scares him too, but he's less inclined to show it, especially when Jon's openly doing so. One of them has to try to stay solid. What frightens him more is that he actually feels that fear ebbing away. But to be replaced with what?

"They're playing with us again." He rests a hand on the pommel of the knife at his belt, his optics narrowing as he looks around, his gaze still sliding eventually towards the ever-watching Eye.

"This- This wasn't me!" Jon assures before Cayde can even finish sharing his suspicion. It's a suspicion they share, clearly, but given how this looks and what people know about him, Jon can only dread how some others will take this sudden change.

Jon can't help but look miserable as he admits: "E-everything is different. Including myself. It's wrong. I- I don't know what's going on! I feel like I don't know anything!"

And that scares him. He has come to be used to know nearly everything. But now? Now he can barely hold a single rational thought.

It's increasingly difficult to stand there doing nothing. Cayde begins to pace a bit, his fingers drumming on his knife.

"Yeah...something's changed. I'm not sure what. But I don't like it," he admits. There's this niggling sensation at the back of his mind, or maybe somewhere deeper. Itchy? Has he ever felt itchy? No, not itchy, it's something else, some building anxiousness. "Light's gone again. It's like a storm, but with a different spin." He's restless and that Eye suspended in the sky isn't helping, nor Jon's growing panic.

"Would you cut that out!" he snaps abruptly at the Archivist, immediately startling himself for the tone taken. He pulls a gloved hand across his face. "Sorry, I didn't- this place is just getting to us." That's it. It has to be it.

Jon backs away at the quick outburst, posture defensive and lips pulled back into a snarl. He nearly growls at the Exo, but finds himself easily pacified by the apology that follows. Though this gives Jon a moment to wonder what just happened.

Not that he has any answers. No real ones, at least.

Jon's hands twitch nervously at his sides for a moment before he brings them both together in front of him, keeping anxious fingers busy with their own kind as he looks around once more. ...something's changed, yes. A-another Change... This- It's too close to what happened on my Earth. It's bad, but-- I don't feel the Eye anymore." And he has to wonder when he has gotten that used to feeling it's ceaseless gaze on him that losing that connection feels unnatural.

"Even though it's right there? But even that one doesn't look right," Cayde amends as his gaze swings back towards the one up in the sky. He remembers the one from the fake city all too clearly, even if he's not sure if it's what the thing was supposed to actually look like.

Again restlessness gnaws at him, and he's back to striding back and forth. "Don't like this. Eye or no Eye, we can't just stand around. We need to be doing something, finding something...or someone..."

There's a subtle shift in his voice, his pacing ceasing again as his optics scan the graveyard around them with more purpose, alert as he listens and seeks.

"It's wrong." Jon says simply in response to Cayde pointing out the mechanical eye above them, watching. He watches the Exo, a small frown forming on his forehead. It's not unusual for Cayde to be somewhat on the restless side, but right now there seems to be an anxiousness about him. One that Jon finds rather relatable.

He lets out a heavy exhale, and nods. "Right. I..." Jon pauses, then casts a cautious glance up at Cayde and nods once more, simply signaling his understanding.

"Let's find them." A hunt is more successful together.

Wrong. So many things are wrong. And yet the more that wrongness is pointed out, the more annoyed the Exo starts to feel. Yes, they know something's wrong, but that doesn't change anything. His fingers drum over his knife again.

The prey would be few, but that simply adds to the challenge. The grin Cayde flashes at Jon then is positively feral, punctuated by a hungry brightening of his blue gaze. It's strangely refreshing, but then with so much unknown to them, to at least be on the same page puts him in eager spirits. This is wrong too, but at the same time, it feels so right.

The Hunter nods at Jon then, casting a look past the gravestones before starting to move.

Moving is on of those things that just feel right. Especially moving in comfortable silence, senses reaching to pick up the sound, sight or scent of their prey. Unlike Cayde, Jon of course isn't armed or in any way equipped for what may be considered a traditional hunt, but he doesn't require any of that equipment. He needs none of these tools as long as he has his hands and teeth.

They weave their way around the tombstones in silence for a while. This may not be their domain, and yet moving quietly comes natural.

As does noticing their prey.

Jon stops once he has laid his eyes on the person. A careless wanderer of this place dedicated to the dead. His eyes drift over to the Exo. Of course Cayde will have seen the person.

The space is too open, with little cover to take someone by surprise, but they navigate it quite well in spite of things. Experienced hunters can make the best of even such circumstances.

Cayde keeps low, but he halts almost simultaneously as Jon does so, his hooded head lifting, his optics narrowing as their prey is in sight. He turns his head just slightly enough that he can glimpse Jon past the edge of his hood, giving a curt nod. He motions with a hand; he'd circle ahead while Jon went the direct route to spur their prey forward.

Just a small nod, that is all Jon's response comes down to before he lowers his head a little And moves forward, remaining quiet until he is certain Cayde has reached the right position for this chase. Controlling where their prey flees to is part of the hunt after all.

Once he has reached the right spot, Jon makes his presence known. A deliberate noise that would look to be a mistake to anyone else. But the prey reacts, looks at him while he looks back. Then he snarls audibly and rushes forward, sending their chosen prey running.

Running in Cayde's direction.

There are many obstacles here, but the space is otherwise seemingly endless. Driving their target between the rows rather than along one lane of them would be more challenging, yes, but Cayde trusted that they were more capable than their unfortunate prey.

Once their nameless victim approaches his cover behind an aging statue marking but another grave among many, the Exo leaps out with a metallic growl, causing a panicked yelp and sending them stumbling, scrambling to get back to their feet as they're routed. They catch themselves around headstones, tripping over others, a clumsier flight however only growing in their panic as the two hunters close after them.

Seeing their prey flee makes it impossible for Jon to resist the chase. This isn't even their domain, but the fear leaking from their target is still strong, still potent. The rush of the blood narrowing Jon's vision and focusing it on this particular being, blending out everything else.

Jon's movements remain easy and efficient, taking him close to their prey where sharp claws lash out at struggling legs, drawing blood and sending their victim into a flailing forward tumble.

First blood. It drives Cayde into another surge, quickly closing the distance where he can join Jon in bringing down their target. There's a ringing gleam of metal as he draws his knife, his steps slowing as their prey flounders on the ground. They lurch to their feet again, their breath quickening between pained hisses as they try to force themselves forward, hauling themselves around another tombstone.

The Exo's blade narrowly misses fingers and he makes sure their victim knows it, a whisper of a breeze and the slight vibration as metal once again rings off stone and the grasping hand abandons its support, sending their prey falling again, whimpering.

Jon's second swing misses entirely, but he doesn't care. Their prey is already tumbling and hardly keeping any distance to the two hunters and his next attack sends sharp claws right into an arm, pulling the person back and down with a cry of pain and rising panic as they struggle.

And they do, in fact, manage to tear their arm free, leaving them scrambling noisily on the ground, still attempting to get away.

Jon gives his hand a quick shake, then glances over to the other hunter, intrigued to share the kill.

A glance is as good as signal as any, Cayde darting in not a second after. It's almost pitiful, the state in which their prey continues to insist on fleeing. There's no need for effort to push speed, and the slash that the Hunter makes appears like a lazy swing of his arm, which nevertheless draws fresh blood as the victim cries out, collapsing under his own weight.

It's not so much scrambling any more so much as feebly pushing along the ground, using the other arm to crawl.

The noise the Archivist makes is a nearly ecstatic growl of approval and triumph as he darts forward just half a moment after Cayde and eager claws bury themselves mercilessly into the back of their victim, dragging out a wail of pain and hopeless terror.

Their victim knows it has lost. And yet it still insists on treating the hunters to its feeble struggles even though Jon is practically kneeling on their back, only reluctantly pulling one of his clawed hands free to press down on the back of the neck of their prey.

The Exo steps around in front of their panic-fraught prey. The chase has come to a close, but that fear of knowing the end is near that wafts off this poor soul is like a main course after the appetizer. Cayde leers as he stoops there, planting his knife firmly in the ground but millimeters from their victim's face, a garbled scream dying in their throat between the sight of the blade and Jon's sharp claws digging into their neck.

The rapid breaths become shorter, more ragged but no less desperate, the one good hand clawing at the dirt, flailing blindly, weakly at the weight on his back. The Exo puts a quick end to that with a quick motion and a disturbing crunch of broken bone, the arm flopping wetly onto the dry grass.

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A Hunting Archivist

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