Pluviosa Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pluviosamods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pluviosa2025-01-31 10:10 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviosa2025-01-31 10:10 pm
Entry tags:
EVENT - Ripple and Warp IC log (part 1!)
ripple and warp
Hello and welcome to the IC log for Pluviosa's Fourth Wall event, Ripple and Warp!
In addition to providing information about how characters arrive on the new deck (whether they're existing passengers or not), this post also serves as a place where Fourth Wall characters can post top-levels without joining the game community.
Further information on Fourth Walls in general and the other accompanying OOC updates to the game can be found on the OOC information post here. This post also serves in lieu of a regular between-events Test Drive.
Finally, you may now start sending in your applications to keep your AU, CRAU, and so on characters around after the Fourth Wall! Be sure to note the minor changes to the Applications page (namely, the addition of an "AU information" section).
Without further ado - How did you get here? And more importantly, where is 'here' anyway?
Whether or not characters remember falling asleep on the evening of Day 37, they wake up somewhere different on Day 38, lying on a couch in an almost-familiar room. The couch is similar to the ones in the lounge, though those with keen noses will note that the cushions don't smell the same - there's no scent of your fellow passengers, or of the faint hint of an unknown, arid place that first accompanied the clean furnishings the Ship dragged out.
The room isn't one you've been in before, either, but it's still clearly on the Ship somewhere - there's the familiar motion of the legs moving, and the overhead emergency lights (the only source of light initially in the room) are the same as the ones in the hallways on Fern that the Ship has been working so hard to restore. However, that doesn't mean that it's hard to see - indeed, considering the contents of the room, the low lighting might be a blessing in disguise.
It's full of mirrors.
Not only the sorts of mirrors that character would expect to find, the ones that have been missing from the Ship's bathrooms and other expected places, though there are certainly plenty of those in the room - but the walls, the door, and the ceiling are also all mirrors. Mirrors hang on a portion of the larger furniture in what appears to be the living room of a suite. It's not as dramatic as it could be, but aside from the couch characters wake up on, it's pretty close. The floor, at least, is not reflective mirrors, though it's not much less shiny - instead of the usual hotel-esque carpet of the suites, there's seamless stone tile in stormcloud grey, slight variations in the color indicating marble. And all of those reflective surfaces are perfectly clean - although it's possible to find dried spots of decay on the backs of the mirrors, overall, it seems as though time doesn't have claim on this part of the Ship, much less the Growth.
And of course, where there are mirrors, there are reflections.
Some of them - probably the majority - are normal, perfect mirrors of the person the character expects to see. Some of them are distorted, but in a normal, mundane way - funhouse mirrors among the panels on the walls, making you wide or skinny or warped.
And then some of them show reflections of you that are distorted, not as in bent, but as in there being something different about the you that's in them. Different clothes; different hair; different age; different species. Added scars, or missing ones; limbs missing, or replaced with something else. A completely unknown you in the mirror.
For the most part, these altered reflections act the way you would expect, imitating the movements of the rest of the reflections in the room. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes they climb out of the mirror - and whether they're friendly or not remains to be seen.
There's a note on the mirror-topped table next to the couch. In backwards writing that needs to be held up to a mirror to be read easily, it says:
For those who are new around here, the method of arrival is... a bit different. This applies equally to characters who are just here for the fourth wall (alternates of existing characters etc) or those who will be apped as permanent residents - there isn't a distinction to these categories until the end of the event.
These characters arrive with a first sensation of being pressed against a hard, glass surface - not unlike the whispers of sensation that haunted the existing passengers over the last few days. The difference is that this time, the glass you're pressed against isn't a horizontal floor or bed - it's vertical or at least mostly vertical, and you can tell which way is down.
Or, put another way: Newly arrived characters start their boatride on the wrong side of the mirrors that are packed away into the unknown deck. They are facing towards the real world side, the way they would if they were reflections made physical, but turning around and looking behind them is nearly impossible.
Indeed, there's a growing pressure forcing them against the glass barrier. It grows harder and harder to breathe, almost like drowning, or being crushed by water pressure -
Until, just when you think you can't survive any more, something gives way, and you stumble out of the mirror into the real world. It's not the glass breaking - it's more like forcing your way through a soap bubble or the membrane that sits inside an eggshell that separates the hard pieces from the white. Water, too, cascades down out of the mirror with you, splattering all over the floor, but it's just water, and it doesn't seem to have left more than a bit of surface dampness on you.
However, when characters turn around, they will find that while the glass is still in place and unbroken, the mirror will no longer reflect anything - not even the shine of light cast on the glass - rendering these mirrors completely black. This reflectivity stays on the puddle of water around your feet instead, which aggressively reflects the area around it even if taken elsewhere - even if poured into a cup. In motion, it's too transparent to be taken for mercury or silver, but when pooled undisturbed, it does not ripple in response to the motion of the ship. Only the actions of characters or other forces can cause ripples. Otherwise, it appears to be normal water.
Characters who are alternates of each other might come out of the mirrors while they're literally being reflected (a certain surprise for those who are on the normal side of the mirror doing the looking), but they might also just appear in rooms all by themselves, or in the presence of someone else they know (or think they know). Those who don't have any immediate connections among the current passengers are more likely to appear in some empty room, but ultimately this is left to player discretion.
Not all reflections are as potentially friendly as those played by those of us on the player side of the screen, however. In addition to the "deeper" reflections played by real humans, who have or at least appear to have personalities and histories of their own, there are also "shallow" reflections. Unlike the Fourth Wall arrivals, shallow reflections can't be of characters who aren't present at the time - they only appear in response to characters looking into mirrors (whether those characters are existing residents or new arrivals).
The shallow reflections come out of the mirrors just like the Fourth Wall arrivals, but there's always something a little off about them. Some of them stay reversed like a reflection; some of them don't make any noise when they move and cannot speak; some of them come out of the mirrors with the funhouse-esque warped reflections and stay that way. Like their more 'real' counterparts, the mirrors the shallow reflections come out of turn completely flat, unreflective black; unlike their counterparts, they don't really hesitate in striding out, much less stumble and potentially collapse.
What do they want? To shove whoever they're a reflection of into the black mirror they came from. What happens if they succeed?
You die. I mean, probably. There's no way of knowing unless one of them does succeed, after all. If you want your character to die in this fashion, please let the mod team know. While we cannot guarantee that interesting things will happen to all characters (and those who are only here to visit for the Fourth Wall are not eligible), this may have permanent consequences for your character, take them out of play for longer ICly than a typical death, or impact other characters in the game beyond the typical levels of emotional harm. Or some combination of all three.
Fortunately, the shallow reflections only have physical strength on their side - they do not possess any powers of those they take the shapes of, and they can be killed in largely the same way as unremarkable flesh and blood humans. A killing blow causes them to collapse into the same hyper-reflective water as described above; the mirror they came out of remains black.
The deck itself is open fully to character navigation. Like the lab specimen storage of Zinnia, this deck - whose name is not posted anywhere for characters to find easily - is clear of any signs of Growth, and manages to feel chilly even if you get up to the top deck where the sun is shining.
Or... Should be shining. Regardless of the weather on other deck dimensions, the skies above this deck are
always, at best, a cloudy, half-stormy grey. The air above hangs tense, like the clouds are waiting for something to happen. Unlike the other instances of Ship weather, you don't need Neuvillette's particular affinity with water to sense it - any character with empathic or telepathic powers will be able to feel the sense of looming, helpless frustration in the clouds.
The most notable feature of this deck, of course, is that it's full of mirrors. Indeed, it's not only the mirrors that are missing from the suite bathrooms, the public restrooms by the cafeteria, and so on - there are far more mirrors than the Ship would reasonably need to outfit the decks it has, even including the multidimensional nature of it. Mirrors hang from the walls, and then more mirrors lean against those, or against the other furnishings, or even against each other (since some of them are standing mirrors), and the groups against the walls are often five or six panels deep with the largest at the back the side of the glass panels of the Ship's sliding glass balcony doors. (Yes, those are also replaced by mirrors, reflective in both directions.) Tabletops are reflective in their own rights, and then littered with even more, antique-looking hand mirrors and makeup compacts and those little circular mirrors sold in bags by the dozen at the craft store, only an inch across.
Considering all the reflective surfaces, it might be a good thing that there is only emergency power supplied to this deck - enough to keep the guide lights on and ensure that the sliding doors (though not the elevators) are working, and that whatever system pumps water through the faucets and showers is still going. The water is all cold, however, and there isn't any food available on the deck so far as characters are able to find. In the place where characters are used to finding the cafeteria, there is instead a terrifying mirrored bar filled with empty bottles and glasses as well as - well. Take a guess.
With the exception of the sliding glass doors in the suites, the glass of windows and so forth seems to be what it should be - though it's more reflective than seems natural, too. Like Zinnia, the cleaniness of this deck means that characters have full run of it, all the way down to the lounge on the bottom of the Ship - which is the only place that isn't completely clean on this deck. The super-reflective water that pours out of the mirrors seems to have flowed down here at some point, where it sits, unaffected by the motion of the Ship, about an inch deep across the entire floor. This water is the only feature down in the bottom lounge - there is no furniture, in contrast to its Zinnia counterpart.
And on this floor, at the very bottom, and only this floor, the reflective water has the smell - only the smell, not any other qualities - of fresh blood.
The Ship will not answer characters here - although the terminals in the residential deck that can normally be used to communicate with it (in whatever limited capacity) are present, their screens are (of course!) mirrors, and unresponsive. There's also no signs of drones about, not even the basic roomba-like cleaning drones; there's no evidence that they've been here recently, either.
A follow-up log, in which the Ship manages to make contact with characters wherever they are, will be posted later (mod goal time is 2-3 weeks from now). That log will take place on Day 40 and will bring with it food (for everyone who has gotten very hungry by then) and drone assistance, but whether characters actually manage to escape at that point or later on on Day 42 is left open to the opinions of you, the players! Both current players and visitors will be able to vote in a Discord poll on the matter, to be posted in the Discord announcements channel tomorrow (after you've had the chance to sleep on this post and let it cook in your brains a little).
Happy playing! Questions can be asked on Discord or added to the usual questions header below this post.
In addition to providing information about how characters arrive on the new deck (whether they're existing passengers or not), this post also serves as a place where Fourth Wall characters can post top-levels without joining the game community.
Further information on Fourth Walls in general and the other accompanying OOC updates to the game can be found on the OOC information post here. This post also serves in lieu of a regular between-events Test Drive.
Finally, you may now start sending in your applications to keep your AU, CRAU, and so on characters around after the Fourth Wall! Be sure to note the minor changes to the Applications page (namely, the addition of an "AU information" section).
Without further ado - How did you get here? And more importantly, where is 'here' anyway?
existing characters
Whether or not characters remember falling asleep on the evening of Day 37, they wake up somewhere different on Day 38, lying on a couch in an almost-familiar room. The couch is similar to the ones in the lounge, though those with keen noses will note that the cushions don't smell the same - there's no scent of your fellow passengers, or of the faint hint of an unknown, arid place that first accompanied the clean furnishings the Ship dragged out.
The room isn't one you've been in before, either, but it's still clearly on the Ship somewhere - there's the familiar motion of the legs moving, and the overhead emergency lights (the only source of light initially in the room) are the same as the ones in the hallways on Fern that the Ship has been working so hard to restore. However, that doesn't mean that it's hard to see - indeed, considering the contents of the room, the low lighting might be a blessing in disguise.
It's full of mirrors.
Not only the sorts of mirrors that character would expect to find, the ones that have been missing from the Ship's bathrooms and other expected places, though there are certainly plenty of those in the room - but the walls, the door, and the ceiling are also all mirrors. Mirrors hang on a portion of the larger furniture in what appears to be the living room of a suite. It's not as dramatic as it could be, but aside from the couch characters wake up on, it's pretty close. The floor, at least, is not reflective mirrors, though it's not much less shiny - instead of the usual hotel-esque carpet of the suites, there's seamless stone tile in stormcloud grey, slight variations in the color indicating marble. And all of those reflective surfaces are perfectly clean - although it's possible to find dried spots of decay on the backs of the mirrors, overall, it seems as though time doesn't have claim on this part of the Ship, much less the Growth.
And of course, where there are mirrors, there are reflections.
Some of them - probably the majority - are normal, perfect mirrors of the person the character expects to see. Some of them are distorted, but in a normal, mundane way - funhouse mirrors among the panels on the walls, making you wide or skinny or warped.
And then some of them show reflections of you that are distorted, not as in bent, but as in there being something different about the you that's in them. Different clothes; different hair; different age; different species. Added scars, or missing ones; limbs missing, or replaced with something else. A completely unknown you in the mirror.
For the most part, these altered reflections act the way you would expect, imitating the movements of the rest of the reflections in the room. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes they climb out of the mirror - and whether they're friendly or not remains to be seen.
There's a note on the mirror-topped table next to the couch. In backwards writing that needs to be held up to a mirror to be read easily, it says:
Thanks for visiting! I'm sorry I couldn't be there to meet you, but there's just so many people here today!
I wonder if you'll get a chance to meet the real you?
Good luck!
new characters and visitors
For those who are new around here, the method of arrival is... a bit different. This applies equally to characters who are just here for the fourth wall (alternates of existing characters etc) or those who will be apped as permanent residents - there isn't a distinction to these categories until the end of the event.
These characters arrive with a first sensation of being pressed against a hard, glass surface - not unlike the whispers of sensation that haunted the existing passengers over the last few days. The difference is that this time, the glass you're pressed against isn't a horizontal floor or bed - it's vertical or at least mostly vertical, and you can tell which way is down.
Or, put another way: Newly arrived characters start their boatride on the wrong side of the mirrors that are packed away into the unknown deck. They are facing towards the real world side, the way they would if they were reflections made physical, but turning around and looking behind them is nearly impossible.
Indeed, there's a growing pressure forcing them against the glass barrier. It grows harder and harder to breathe, almost like drowning, or being crushed by water pressure -
Until, just when you think you can't survive any more, something gives way, and you stumble out of the mirror into the real world. It's not the glass breaking - it's more like forcing your way through a soap bubble or the membrane that sits inside an eggshell that separates the hard pieces from the white. Water, too, cascades down out of the mirror with you, splattering all over the floor, but it's just water, and it doesn't seem to have left more than a bit of surface dampness on you.
However, when characters turn around, they will find that while the glass is still in place and unbroken, the mirror will no longer reflect anything - not even the shine of light cast on the glass - rendering these mirrors completely black. This reflectivity stays on the puddle of water around your feet instead, which aggressively reflects the area around it even if taken elsewhere - even if poured into a cup. In motion, it's too transparent to be taken for mercury or silver, but when pooled undisturbed, it does not ripple in response to the motion of the ship. Only the actions of characters or other forces can cause ripples. Otherwise, it appears to be normal water.
Characters who are alternates of each other might come out of the mirrors while they're literally being reflected (a certain surprise for those who are on the normal side of the mirror doing the looking), but they might also just appear in rooms all by themselves, or in the presence of someone else they know (or think they know). Those who don't have any immediate connections among the current passengers are more likely to appear in some empty room, but ultimately this is left to player discretion.
shallower reflections
Not all reflections are as potentially friendly as those played by those of us on the player side of the screen, however. In addition to the "deeper" reflections played by real humans, who have or at least appear to have personalities and histories of their own, there are also "shallow" reflections. Unlike the Fourth Wall arrivals, shallow reflections can't be of characters who aren't present at the time - they only appear in response to characters looking into mirrors (whether those characters are existing residents or new arrivals).
The shallow reflections come out of the mirrors just like the Fourth Wall arrivals, but there's always something a little off about them. Some of them stay reversed like a reflection; some of them don't make any noise when they move and cannot speak; some of them come out of the mirrors with the funhouse-esque warped reflections and stay that way. Like their more 'real' counterparts, the mirrors the shallow reflections come out of turn completely flat, unreflective black; unlike their counterparts, they don't really hesitate in striding out, much less stumble and potentially collapse.
What do they want? To shove whoever they're a reflection of into the black mirror they came from. What happens if they succeed?
You die. I mean, probably. There's no way of knowing unless one of them does succeed, after all. If you want your character to die in this fashion, please let the mod team know. While we cannot guarantee that interesting things will happen to all characters (and those who are only here to visit for the Fourth Wall are not eligible), this may have permanent consequences for your character, take them out of play for longer ICly than a typical death, or impact other characters in the game beyond the typical levels of emotional harm. Or some combination of all three.
Fortunately, the shallow reflections only have physical strength on their side - they do not possess any powers of those they take the shapes of, and they can be killed in largely the same way as unremarkable flesh and blood humans. A killing blow causes them to collapse into the same hyper-reflective water as described above; the mirror they came out of remains black.
??? deck
The deck itself is open fully to character navigation. Like the lab specimen storage of Zinnia, this deck - whose name is not posted anywhere for characters to find easily - is clear of any signs of Growth, and manages to feel chilly even if you get up to the top deck where the sun is shining.
Or... Should be shining. Regardless of the weather on other deck dimensions, the skies above this deck are
always, at best, a cloudy, half-stormy grey. The air above hangs tense, like the clouds are waiting for something to happen. Unlike the other instances of Ship weather, you don't need Neuvillette's particular affinity with water to sense it - any character with empathic or telepathic powers will be able to feel the sense of looming, helpless frustration in the clouds.
The most notable feature of this deck, of course, is that it's full of mirrors. Indeed, it's not only the mirrors that are missing from the suite bathrooms, the public restrooms by the cafeteria, and so on - there are far more mirrors than the Ship would reasonably need to outfit the decks it has, even including the multidimensional nature of it. Mirrors hang from the walls, and then more mirrors lean against those, or against the other furnishings, or even against each other (since some of them are standing mirrors), and the groups against the walls are often five or six panels deep with the largest at the back the side of the glass panels of the Ship's sliding glass balcony doors. (Yes, those are also replaced by mirrors, reflective in both directions.) Tabletops are reflective in their own rights, and then littered with even more, antique-looking hand mirrors and makeup compacts and those little circular mirrors sold in bags by the dozen at the craft store, only an inch across.
Considering all the reflective surfaces, it might be a good thing that there is only emergency power supplied to this deck - enough to keep the guide lights on and ensure that the sliding doors (though not the elevators) are working, and that whatever system pumps water through the faucets and showers is still going. The water is all cold, however, and there isn't any food available on the deck so far as characters are able to find. In the place where characters are used to finding the cafeteria, there is instead a terrifying mirrored bar filled with empty bottles and glasses as well as - well. Take a guess.
With the exception of the sliding glass doors in the suites, the glass of windows and so forth seems to be what it should be - though it's more reflective than seems natural, too. Like Zinnia, the cleaniness of this deck means that characters have full run of it, all the way down to the lounge on the bottom of the Ship - which is the only place that isn't completely clean on this deck. The super-reflective water that pours out of the mirrors seems to have flowed down here at some point, where it sits, unaffected by the motion of the Ship, about an inch deep across the entire floor. This water is the only feature down in the bottom lounge - there is no furniture, in contrast to its Zinnia counterpart.
And on this floor, at the very bottom, and only this floor, the reflective water has the smell - only the smell, not any other qualities - of fresh blood.
The Ship will not answer characters here - although the terminals in the residential deck that can normally be used to communicate with it (in whatever limited capacity) are present, their screens are (of course!) mirrors, and unresponsive. There's also no signs of drones about, not even the basic roomba-like cleaning drones; there's no evidence that they've been here recently, either.
A follow-up log, in which the Ship manages to make contact with characters wherever they are, will be posted later (mod goal time is 2-3 weeks from now). That log will take place on Day 40 and will bring with it food (for everyone who has gotten very hungry by then) and drone assistance, but whether characters actually manage to escape at that point or later on on Day 42 is left open to the opinions of you, the players! Both current players and visitors will be able to vote in a Discord poll on the matter, to be posted in the Discord announcements channel tomorrow (after you've had the chance to sleep on this post and let it cook in your brains a little).
Happy playing! Questions can be asked on Discord or added to the usual questions header below this post.
no subject
this man.... Military background? Certainly not Penaconian... And he seems to be awfully close to Sunday... Calm yourself robin he doesn't seem like an immediate threat for the time being... The nature of his relationship with Sunday however.. that could be a problem... How did they know each other, he couldn't have been here long?? She just saw him in the battle... to say she was thoroughly confused would be an understatement, she was confused and agitated and still coming down from the rush of emotions that took over her during the battle. If this man proved to be even the slightest hint of a threat... She would not hesitate to remove him, she concludes the last bit as she absentmindedly held her pistol under her jacket before moving to slip in back but not all the way. It may be useful to be able to draw it quickly after all.
"if you don't mind me asking since you seem to apparently know me so well ...who are you to my brother"
She says the last part with a small unconscious bite too it without even noticing how her wings subconsciously flare aggressively.
no subject
He's uncertain. He still does not fully understand the mechanics of tuning, nor does he pretend to. The Law dictates his empathy link; it is not something he controls, only something he obeys. The fact that the link even functions in this place, so far from The Law, is already a miracle in its own right. But he does recall Sunday mentioning tuning before—trying it, even. It had only made their resonances worse. Robin’s frequency is close to Sunday’s, yet… not. The similarities are enough to be disorienting.
She speaks of songs, and something in his stance eases. "Yes. He recently acquired instruments and played at the 'Dance Party' that was held. He is very skilled." There is a flicker of something in his voice—acknowledgment, perhaps even quiet admiration. "He promised me a song." A pause. "This would not be the place for it, of course."
Her emotions churn, thickening the air between them, but he does not address it. This is normal. New arrivals are often confused. If she has questions, she will ask.
And then—she does. Whilst not so subtly drawing a firearm. Federico blinks, unperturbed but mildly puzzled. Was something wrong?
"Correction," he states matter-of-factly. "I do not know you well. It is Sunday who knows you. He speaks of you with fondness and care." A beat passes. "How you are free now." He notes the shift in her posture, the simmering aggression laced within her tone. This is... unexpected. But he continues, unfazed.
"As I have stated before, Signora, he has called me his friend. I strive to do that title justice." A measured pause. "I also bear his will, should anything happen to him."
That is... an uncomfortable truth. Saying it aloud feels heavy, wrong. But it is what Sunday asked of him. He'd entrusted it to him by name. A high honor amongst executors, one he carries with great care.
It's too bad his cold disposition doesn't show any of that.
"As an Executor, I am bound to fulfill that will should the worst come to pass." A statement, plain and simple. No apparent emotion. No hesitation. Just duty.
He will strive to make sure that does not happen, however.
Stares nervously at Sunday mirror thread...no subject
Her muscles begin to slacken as she fully sheaths her firearm before glaring at the executor.
"I will believe you this time... I will not lie to you, it is only because of your aid that I extend this courtesy to you... I suggest you avoid implying my brothers death near me again..."
Her words are dripping with venom as she slowly steps twords him, something has been bothering her...
"Exactly how long have you known my brother.. and why have I never seen you before?"
Before he gets to answer her question she takes another step forward and leans into his ear.
"I suggest you avoid any attempts to deceive me.. that never ends well and I do hate getting my hands dirty... But if I deem you a threat to my brother... I will not hesitate... Am I understood?"
As she says the final part the eyes on her wings open to their full scale as they begin to give off an ever so faint glow, a very thinly veiled threat to invoke the power THEY gave to THEIR most fervent devotee.
I'm gonna assume some things about what Robin is doing here, ehe
There's a significant pause as Robin gives her next instructions. "Understood," he replies. He...did not suspect her of lying. Why did she go to ensure him of her honesty? The Robin that Sunday described seemed to be the type that had no need for lies...in fact, she seems much more distrusting than the general impression he was given. Perhaps Federico misunderstood the descriptors. He tends to do that.
And...the death. "I apologize. Death is something I work closely with on a regular basis. I understand some have sensitivity toward such a topic." My guy. Very few people actually enjoy considering the death of a loved one. The venom in her words seems to sail right over his head, bless his heart.
The pain increases in volume as she draws closer. He stands steady, still.
"I have known your brother approximately..." he pauses, as if calculating, processing data... "24 days, 9 hours, 53 minutes and 23 seconds, give or take some fluctuations in-" He stiffens when she gets even closer, so close he can faintly smell the blood from her wounds. His head pounds viciously, and he swallows down a wince. He can't seem to look away from the eyes on her wings, something uneasy running down his spine. The pain and static and something press in on his mind, making him want to reach for his own firearm.
This is Sunday's sister. He should not hurt her. But there's an aura she's giving off that presses in on him, screaming threat, and it's like his words are dragged out of him.
"You have not seen me because you have just arrived here, Signora. I met him soon after his arrival. A day after mine." A deep breath, his eyes transfixed by the ones on her wings. Why do the colors seem oddly familiar..."Sunday has been here much longer than you have. This place..." He cannot hide the wince as a particularly vicious stab of pain pulses through his mind. "It is. A different world from yours. Time moves differently between them. I lack the sufficient data to fully describe the specific dependencies, but there have been many cases of such on this landship."
His jaw works for a moment, as if, for once, considering how best to say this. "I do not lie, Signora." Which is something liars can easily say. But it's all he has. "I assure you that your brother's safety is of extreme important to the missio- to. To me." He's a bit startled at the truth yanked out of him. Still, he is deeply sincere. "I am not a threat to Sunday."
He lives another day
She practically growls out, the aggression running thick in the air as she loses control of her temper. It is only then does she stop and realize.... Her tuning didn't detect any lies...
a month. A. Month. That's.... That's not possible!! She saw Sunday less than an hour ago?!!?? His song? His dance .. his... Fight...... Fight..... She fought him...... Could time be so warped that a difference in minutes in Penacony could be a month here?? This wasn't possible.. this man was lying he HAD TO BE. and yet she sensed no dishonesty from him...
She backed away slightly, baffled expression still apparent on her face. Slowly she began allowing her other eyes to close and stop amplifying her resonance.
"He... Has been here for a month?... That doesn't make sense... I saw him mere moments ago..."
the words echoed from his mouth into her mind a different world... she wracks her brain trying to make sense of this.. even scrounging up old lectures from her time at university in an attempt to make sense of it all. quantum-imaginary equation? No ... Herta sequence? Also no... Imaginary tree theory?? N-wait... That lined up dangerously well with what she knew of this place... She was in another world... But how? Had Sunday came with her and simply arrived at another point? Not totally impossible...... Was this even her Sunday at all? If their are infinite universes as imaginary tree theory suggests... Then logic says that their must be infinite Sundays.
As much as she is in love with the idea of a infinite amount of her brother this possibility seems to unlock an emotion she had beat out of her long ago... Robin is scared
"Ca-can.. can you describe my brother please... If what your saying is true ... Then I fear I may have just confirmed decades of scientific theory by accident..."
She's flashing between emotions of confusion to anger to disbelief and more all far more rapidly than she can hope to process them... She feels light headed... She wants to pass out.
She wins her sudden fight with gravity just barely as she takes a few steps back and leans against the mirror. A shocked expression of disbelief still rests on her face..
YIPPEE I mean thanks ma'am
Something large and angry weighs down on his senses, something much bigger than either of them. It feels like the Will of The Law almost, which is...how is that possible? Here?? His hand grips the handle of his patron firearm, tight in preparation, to steady the shake in his hand, to keep his knees from buckling under the weight, the pain cranking up in his mind to near unbearable levels-
Is this...truly the soft spoken, lively, kind sister Sunday spoke of...?
She steps back, the eyes closing, releasing him. He lets out a shuddering breath, his grip still tight on his shotgun.
"Nearly a month. If...your months are classified in the same manner as Terra's." And it's...curious. He doesn't really notice this, but when he speaks the name of his home-world, images slip unbidden over their painful connection. A bright city, with some sort of angelic statue in the distance. A field of flowers, with a woman standing in their midst, her hair long and black, her smile patient and sad as she stares down the barrel of a shotgun pointed at her. A small garden in a mobile monastery, burnt, a statue broken, a man, a gardener, dying in the statue's arms, not from Federico's actions, but from his own choice. Moving cities, never still, all to outrun constant calamities that beset this world...
None of these images match with what Robin would know of Penacony. Nor any world she may have visited or heard of. All true and very real for him, but it's up to her how she takes it all. He nods, patient, calm in every way except for the still tight grip on his weapon. He still feels pain, a threat, from her. That's...confusing, to feel threatened by someone connected to a man he so deeply trusts.
"I last saw him about a day ago, at a 'dance party' held on this landship. He was well." Another image; Sunday, smiling, almost sheepish even, as he fights to keep his wings from covering up his face, an ivory violin in hand. He looks just a bit disheveled, yet happy. More at ease than he'd probably ever looked in Robin's world.
"I can hear him now too." Opening his halo up more to listen for Sunday's frequencies hurts with Robin's own abrasive, tumultuous "song" crashing against him. He's...somewhere that way. Federico watches the woman stumble, nearly falling. His grip loosens on his patron firearm.
"I will describe him for you. It is possible that the Sunday I know is different from the one you know. Perhaps while we walk?" He offers his arm, still standing a distance from her. Non-threatening, leaving the choice to take his support fully up to her.
no subject
fuck... I really really hope this isn't a different world... Please Xipe just let sparkle pop out and reveal this is all a joke...
"I... I will believe your sincerity, I have detected no sense of dishonesty from you nor have I sensed any malicious intent.... If that changes, so will our partnership..."
Her anger is slowly simmering down. If this really was a different world and not one of the fools tricks then she had an apology to make... And if he was lying, then she simply had to make a corpse instead...
"Very well .. let's walk.."
As the words leave her mouth she pushes off only to stumble slightly, her wounds clearly having not healed enough as crippling pain shoots through her organic leg.
"Fuck"
She squeaks out, genuinely squeaks, it probably would have been an adorable sound in any other context but not here, this sounded almost closer to a bird that had it's wings shattered And fell to the earth, desperate for aid yet so unwilling to receive it...
"I... I will be fine.. let's move..."
Her tone was less aggressive then it earlier was, this was just more irritated, at him or at herself? She isn't even sure.
no subject
He bows his head slightly. "My thanks, Signora." He understands. A tenuous alliance.
He keeps his arm out in case she deigns to take it, watching as she stumbles in pain. The sight twists something in his chest. Why does she not take the aid freely offered to her? It makes no sense...
The swear. That. Does break his stoic expression, just a little. His eyes widen, lips parting as if to respond, but coming up short with what to say.
Federico's heard foul language before, plenty of it. He's involved in several military organizations, of course he's used to this. It's just...startling to hear it from someone who appeared so dainty and refined. The way it was said even, the squeak...
It'd be something like if young Ezell suddenly started spouting foul language around Cecelia unprompted. Hm.
"Your choice in verbiage implies otherwise, Signora. Why do you refuse the aid I am perfectly capable and willing to give?" he asks, fully earnest and baffled. This is not the first time he'd run across such behavior, and yet it still mystifies, even somewhat frustrates him every time.
She's the problem it's her
She says with a slight squeak, but manages to hide this one much better as she starts walking, a limp rather noticable, just from how she avoids putting weight on it you can easily tell it's heavily injured, if it's just fractured or completely shattered internally however is much harder to determine
just walk.... Left foot rig-FUCK Aeons that hurts.... Just... Keep going... her steps seem to be getting imperceptibly shorter with each pace as the pain shoots through her again and again...
"If... If you have a cane or something that would be greatly appreciated..."
She says the last part almost.. scared? Nervous? He can't quite tell, she says it with the tone of a child crawling back to a parent who was right from the beginning... Clearly she's a very prideful woman and asking for aid like this... She almost seems to view it as weakness...
you are the guide... You are the shining, guiding star.... You can get over an injured foot... What kind of savior can't get over a minor injury..
After a few paces she collapses against one of the walls, pain clear as day on her face as her eyes seem slightly frazzled and glazed over as she is slowly being worn down...
He is analyzing her problems like a very confused computer
"I do believe pressing on alone when you are experiencing such pain is what's unnecessary. You could be worsening your injuries. That is foolish." ...A true gentleman would look away to grant Robin her dignity as she struggles. Such social graces are...not in this man's wheelhouse.
He understands pushing one's limits for a mission, for some form of task. But there no such thing here...Federico himself had, in fact, sprained his ankle quite badly upon meeting Sunday, and while not ideal, did accept the Halovian's help.
"A cane..." All he has is a nightstick. And his patron firearms. If this were any other part of the ship, he would go fetch a stick (ha- wait he's not a dog) for her. But all they have is mirrors.
Regardless, he doesn't seem scornful in the least. In fact, his brow furrows slightly as if very seriously considering his options...her nervousness in expressing weakness goes right over his head, but he is still considering the compromise she proposed. If he could decide, he'd just pick her up right now-
She falls. Federico is at her side in an instant, crouching down to eye level, but not touching. He's...not sure what constitutes "necessary". Perhaps if she's in line of fire?? Unspoken lines for the boundaries stated...difficult.
"Signora. All I have on my person is weapons. You could feasibly use one of my shotguns as an aide," Some sankta might consider that sacrilegious, but Federico is only concerned with the practicality, "but that could be dangerous. Not to mention its weight might be a detriment to your state. I just." And his brow furrows more, faint frustration bleeding into his expression. All his training and he keeps getting barred from offering his help...
"You say it is not necessary. But Signora, you cannot walk, and you wish to find your brother. Those two factors oppose each other. It is logical to accept aid in reaching that goal, is it not?"
The regret sinks in
She winces in pain as she slowly allows herself to sink down the mirror, unbeknownst to her the reflection stays in the leaning position for just a little longer, a perfect copy of the robin that Sunday would be familiar with.
"Give.. give me a few minutes and I'll work on amplifying my healing"
She says this as she starts to feel around her leg fractured calf
.. maybe an ankle too? The knee seems damaged but functional....Xipe don't fail me now ... as a golden glow envelops her hand and you can see her wincing in pain as the feelings of bones knitting back together pulse through her lower leg before pausing as the glow fades.
"Give me a little bit and I should have my leg mended...."
The adrenalin is starting to fully wear off and she's only now realizing the weight of her previous actions, regret pulses through her body as the mask she spent so many years refining slips back into place.
"I... I am terribly sorry for the way I treated you.. the adrenalin was clouding my vision.. I thought Sunday was in danger and just had to act.."
he's a soldier he should be able to buy that... He is a soldier right? I mean he certainly doesn't fit any of the military powers I know but he's undoubtedly a soldier... she winces as two shards of her calf run against each other, the pain is undoubtedly excruciating but she continues with only a faint golden glow.. Just ignore the pain
"If... If I rush it I can probably be done in a few minutes... If not this might take an hour...I.. I am sorry for inconveniencing you sir.."
She has to bite back a smart ass remark by replaying the events that led her here in her minds eye.... How did it all fall apart so spectacularly..
It's ok, Fedi's very hard to offend
"It is alright. I understand many lash out when hurt. If I could offer my own Arts as energy, I would." Unfortunately, his exclusively work through his firearm. To hurt, not heal.
He shakes his head. "It is no inconvenience. You are a passenger on this landship now, and therefore your safety is of import to me. Your health." He blinks at her saying she's pushing it. But she's...right. Who knows how much time they have? Still...
"I must...warn you now, however. The Sunday that is on this ship, who is my friend. He may not be the one you know." His eyes flick to the woman in the mirror, swaying to the beat of unheard music, spotless before an audience. To her, different, hurting... "It is a possibility."
no subject
She lets out a low chuckle as she continues attempting to mend her leg with small little pulses
"I appreciate the offer but my body is attuned to the harmony and the order... Any healing that doesn't come from my natural regeneration or from THEM might have... Unintended consequences"
The pause was longer than normal for her pattern of speech making it feel far more ominous. Before it can fully set in his next words slam into her like a train.
not... My... Sunday?... He's mentioned other worlds before... And the places he showed me... Are unlike any I've known.... Could this be a different world?..it would certainly explain all of the weird things but .... How...?
"I.. I am sorry sir but you must understand your words are incredibly hard to believe.. could you.. could you describe this Sunday for me?"
She looks genuinely confused and scared for the first time,the glow now maintaining a steady level as she isn't focusing on making sure it doesn't overload. a different Sunday... Is he even the same person?.. of course he is Robin, it will still be Sunday, even if he is not the same Sunday you've protected for so long he is still A Sunday... And you won't fail to protect this one.. you have gotten another chance.. make it count. she looks up at him and for the first time he can see just how exhausted she looks. But, there is almost something serine about a her scared face, she's... At peace even if momentarily.
gets out sketchbook. IS THAT ANIME- (when "anime" is realism here)
"That is a logical theory. My Arts are not from any god-like being. Terrans are simply born with them, at different aptitudes. Mine normally require channeling through a firearm, but there are factors...regardless. You are correct. It is unwise to attempt such a thing." The furrowed brow remains. There is a helplessness he's been forced to feel more and more as of late on this landship...
....ah. He has upset her. He did say he would tell her about Sunday. So he nods, reaching into one of his packs on his belt, pulling out...a. Sketchbook? It looks very handmade, and yet made with care, very well put together...(Dr. Ratio made it as a gift for him and I sob ok). He opens it, paging through sketches of that black haired woman from the memories before, some other sankta like him, a demon-like man in some gardens, a girl that may look foxian to Robin...he's not dwelling on those, though. He pages past sketches of Robin herself (limbs intact and normal and...happy. Content looking, as she sings.) and he stops on a sketch of Sunday. It looks like he's inspecting a small, singed flower in the sketch.
"The Sunday I know here is...kind. He prefers everything to be clean and in order, which is very logical." Yeah, you can see why this guy vibed with him.
Autism to OCD communication- "He has...a desire for perfection, however, that I believe is often unobtainable. That tends to make him upset." An image flickers over their connection, again unbidden, now more vague. But it's this Sunday, writing out musical scores and crumpling them up again and again. An endless pursuit of something he can barely remember. "He...mentioned trying to achieve that perfection in his world. He seemed...conflicted on if it was good or not that he'd failed."That faint memory shifts, and Sunday is much closer. There's warmth, as if the point of view is embracing him.
Federico pauses, thinking. "He has many questions similar to mine. About order, about laws. About...purpose, direction." He turns the page, and it's that woman from before, playing a cello. On the adjacent page, Sunday is playing a violin of similar make to that cello. "He has been more at ease lately. He played music recently. He is very skilled."
He looks up again. "He cares for you very much. A version of you, at least. He worries, and hopes...you're free. Are you free in your world, Robin?"
The seed of doubt
As he flipped through the sketchbook she can't help but feel... Strongly for each new drawing. The first woman, she... She felt an odd sense of kinship with her, she's undoubtedly beautiful but robin is more focused on her halo.. the next few where similar feelings, a strange kinship. The woman in the wheelchair caught her attention, she was holding a weapon... what kind of world does this man come from where even she would have to fight... then it's the foxian girl, she reminds her of some of the little ones she met on a trip to the yaoqing... So little... So precious.
The next drawing snapped her mind free and commanded all attention. It was her
"She looks so... Happy...."
She trails off, her thoughts overwhelming her that dress... It's beautiful... She has all of her limbs untouched... I haven't been like that since I was 19...she looks.... Majestic.. powerful in her own right... Angelic... This is what I could have been?... robin doesn't realize it but she is crying. For the first time in her adult life. Robin Oak is crying.
She wasn't ready for the next picture
Sunday is ethereal as ever but... This is truly not the Sunday she knew... he looks.. stronger.. more tired... More... Orderly...he looks so different and so... Perfect... This is what I fight for. I live and die in the shadows so that Sunday can take the stage... Right?..
"He... He's beautiful... He seems genuinely happy here...I... I am happy for that"
Her aggressive demeanor from earlier has completely faded. As for what replaced it... He can't quite tell..
"are you free in your world robin?"
Her world stopped
of.. of course I'm free?? I've always been free? .... Right?... I've always... Been... Free.. even if gopher wood ... Told me... To...
I am free....
I am free.....
I am...
Free?
Am I...
Free?
I am free... And with that freedom I chose to sacrifice my own... To preserve it for the many... for him for everything... If I must rend my own wings from my body... I will... For them.. for THEM until I am strong enough to guide them... I am free... Right?...
Robin's eyes have glazed over slightly as more tears wash down her face. She doesn't realize she's crying yet.. she doesn't even know why she's crying either, is it for what could have been? Or what has already come to pass?
She acts before she realizes it, she pulls fedi into a tight embrace and buries her face in his neck as her wings cover her eyes, robin oak, head of the Oak family, master of Penacony's dreamscape, one with power that could rival some aeons, is sobbing into him, in-between shaky breath she lets out little sounds similar too a birds tweets of despiration... The anguished cries for a duo separated by fate and destiny... Opposite sides of the same coin, they are one in the same, yet they can never face the same way...
oof watering that seed with many tears I see
'Happy'...?
"Yes. Sunday spoke of her smiles, and how brightly she shone for her audiences. How she worked to teach "harmony" amongst those who needed it most. I usually sketch portraits for work, but learning to capture the emotion of it..." He supposes it transfers?
-is there a leak somewhere? A drop of moisture drips onto the page. Thankfully, the paper is treated for watercolors. Federico tugs the sketchbook out of the way.
He hums at her comments on Sunday, thinking. "As difficult a connection my empathy link is to his, he has been more at ease lately. Sunday is someone easy to track normally due to the constant anxiety he seems to be feeling." Not unlike Ezell in that respect... "But that has calmed somewhat over his time here. It's...good." Even if it makes him harder to track.
There's a long pause after his last question. He understands needing time to think. But the drops of water are increasing in frequency.....wait. He blinks, looks up- oh.
Oh no.
"Signora? I...apologize if my words upset you, I did not mean-" His words catch in his throat when arms reach out, shaking and desperate, and a tearful face buries itself in his neck. He stiffens, truly shocked at this reaction. Why such sorrow? Such grief?? Her hands are clinging to him like a lifeline...those same hands which were working to point a gun at him earlier. What?? What??? What did he say???
"Signora..." he manages, his words softening. Her only answer is sobbing, tears, and quivering feathers tucked against him. She sounds more like an injured fowlbeast than a woman who'd perform as a shining star before a crowd. How did it come to this...?
....Arturia would cling to him in a similar manner, when they were small. When other children were cruel to her, when the emotions of others became too much for her...when her mother, his amita, died. The proper course of action...he'd done this recently, too. For Sunday, hadn't he?
It probably takes an absurdly long time, but eventually, finally, his arms come up to wrap around Robin's shaking shoulders. The reciprocation is stiff and faltering; someone who is very not practiced in physical comfort. Still, he holds her securely against him, as if bracing her against a storm, strong and steady. Federico lowers his head, as if in prayer, having no idea what a rarity he's witnessing. Just that she needs comfort...he'll offer the best he can.
"Based on your current reaction, I will assume your answer is 'no'," he murmurs.
M. Maybe he shouldn't talk actually.
Yeah it's robins trauma simulator:)
"It.. it won't stop ..I want it to stop.. why won't the tears stop.."
She just barely manages to choke out a sentence through her tears, her eyes are red. Her mask is gone. For the first time.
Federico is looking at the truest form of robin, a broken woman who has layered herself behind masks and walls. Only to have him pierce through them all without even trying...
Slowly but surely the tears start to stall. But the damage is already done this powerful and somewhat intimidating woman has just allowed herself to falter in front of him fuck .... Fuck fuck fuck fuck... I can't kill him.. not like this.. but if he ever says anything about this to anyone... I suppose.. maybe I could swear him to secrecy? I could bind him with the order... That.. that might work... she slowly begins to detangle herself and pull away from him, her wings still covering her lower face as she speaks, her voice is... Scratchier more raw with emotion.
"I'm.. I am very sorry you had to see that ... You.. you cannot mention any of this to anyone ok? If I need to I will bind your tongue with the order.. I suggest you do not make me do that.."
As she speaks the last parts he can sense a growing feedback in his halo as she begins channeling the order ready to force him to obey whether he agreed or not... But he didn't need to know that all he needs to do is agree... the eyes on her wings glow brightly as two larger wings emerge from her back as she rises to her feet. Still wincing in pain but pushing on through it regardless. Her wings are striking to say the least, one has brilliant white and purple feathers with gold trimmings, while the other seems to be much more mechanical and features porcelain white steel with gold accents, they match her other limbs perfectly, perhaps they too where a blessing.
"Just... Please promise me you will not speak of what you just saw.."
Oh girl, he is the WRONG person to ask about why tears won't stop, lmao
"I do not know. Emotions...often do not follow the logic they should." No matter how much he wishes they would. For Arturia to make sense. For any of this to make sense. He has no idea why she's crying now. Therefore, no clue how to help her stop. But he holds her. That...that at least, he can do. He's a silent witness. No judgement, no condemnation.
He wonders if his soror would be glad at this scene. To see someone letting their "true feelings" spill forth without even needing her musical guidance. Or would she grieve with her? He's not sure.
The tears slow on their own, and she pulls away. He lets her. He sees the state of her face and reaches into his pockets for a handkerchief.
"I have no need for your apology, Signora Robin. Emotion is unpredictable and-" his breath catches in his throat as the feedback screeches to new heights, pressing in on his senses once again. The handkerchief drops from his fingers as he goes to hold his head, letting out a pained, indecipherable exclamation.
He's being watched. Many eyes, open and boring into him, watching him for...for what?
"Why...?" he rasps, cringing as his vision hazes in a mess of colors. "What are you- why? I do not understand."
It truly was not even a thought to talk about this. To him, her emotional outburst was something confusing but...natural. Nothing wrong with it. He's used to not understanding things like that. But her following reaction has confused him so thoroughly, and the pain making it harder to think-
All he can ask is why.
no subject
"I.. I am sorry I had to do that, but as a soldier you must of course understand the importance of controlling the flow of information.. this little... Incident of mine is something that I cannot allow to be known"
She looks... Sad almost as if she genuinely didn't want to do that it's for the best, we know what happens when rumors go unchecked... But still.... He has been nothing but kind and it clearly hurt him...
"All I have done is placed a compulsion on you to avoid speaking about what just happened, if you do then... Consequences happen but it's nothing lethal I made sure of it. I truly am sorry, but this was necessary"
She hates to do this.. he has been nothing but nice ... it is necessary... Nobody can see me... Weak ... Not like that.. not unless it's to my advantage.. she staggers back against a mirror and slowly sinks down to the floor, wrapping her wings partially around her torso.
"I am going to focus on my healing for the moment.. you... You should go find Sunday.. I will be ok for a little while.."
Poor Fedi is running into alot of funky mind altering situations here
The Law gifted the sankta their empathy link, and it can take it away at any time. But...but he's never felt anything like that. Was that...what it's like to Fall?
He can still "hear" her, however. Normal aching at the resonances clashing, her anxiety, her...guilt? He sighs, breath shaking slightly.
"Your apology is accepted." He had brushed aside her previous one, but this...warranted an apology. "I will not pretend to understand. I had no intention of spreading word of your pain. It is a personal matter to you..." Is it like if His Holiness the Pope became injured...? But Robin's people aren't here, if she presides over any. Right? So why is she so secretive about it?
....it oddly reminds him of Richele, actually. An old colleague who is very skilled in social communications, and deathly afraid of showing any bit of weakness. As if it's a death sentence to him. Federico never understood why it frightened him so, but learned to not ask about it. It seems he will be applying the same here.
"I...see." He bows his head for a moment. "I...just a request would have sufficed, Signora. But you have my word. I will not speak of this to anyone." Perhaps she's surrounded by people at home who lie about such things. Federico is not that kind of person.
Not lethal...? As if she. Can. Make it lethal. His stomach turns at the thought.
A dismissal from her. Federico rises to his feet, swaying slightly as she sinks to the ground. "I will leave you to it." The distress from Sunday is growing. She's right; he needs to find his friend. Her brother. A version of him..."You are properly armed, yes? In case any threats appear? You won't be using so much of your power that you won't have bullets to fire, yes? Or do you have originium bullets in reserve?"
Guy who does not know how normal guns work....
And ....Cut!
She lets out a soft almost chuckle as she lays back and starts focusing on healing her leg before being blindsided by his question. using my power to form bullets..?? Honestly that might not he a horrible idea... Thanks for the suggestion
"I am armed with two magazines worth of 9mm holopoint so I should be fine, if it's good enough to kill a stoneheart it's good enough to scare off or kill anything that might come after me.. I will be fine Federico.. but.. thank you .. for the concern."
She leans her head back against the mirror a reflection of her standing up in the reflection.
"Go.. find Sunday.. and keep him safe at all costs."
She gives him a small nod and a two finger half salute to see him off. However as he is walking away he looks back at her, Robin's eyes are closed and she's leaning against the mirror still as healing does it's work.
The same cannot be said for her reflection. For just a moment her reflection morphs into a tall black haired man with wings hauntingly close to her own, a black and gold suit adorns his friendly features as a nightingale rests on his shoulder overlooking robin with his half glasses. He looks pleased, very very pleased.
after all she was perfect