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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.
A tragedy (a will)
Eventually after what feels like forever she finally gets another ping.. only one... weird.. maybe Federico sent Sunday back twords me... I can't ping across the entire ship so he must just be out of range as much as robin hates to admit it she's developing a soft spot for the soldier...
Then he turns the corner... It's Federico... Alone
"Federico where is Sunday?? Could you not find him??"
There is slight agitation in her voice.. fucking.... Ugh.. why do I have to do everything all the time...
As he gets closer something seems... Off.. he.. he doesn't look to hot.. his eyes look exhausted.. has he been sprinting around the entire ship???
"Federico where is Sunday... Why isn't he with you? I sent you to protect him I figured you'd be able to find him"
She wouldn't consider any other possibilities for the situation at the moment, Federico must have overestimated his abilities and got lost... Aeons fucking damnit.. where is Sunday...
He's got nothing but bad news ma'am
Perhaps...he allows it to resonate more painfully than usual. All while he watches the mirror in front of him. Two figures are reflected in it. One like him, another like Arturia...they seem to be working on a musical score together.
Robin approaches behind him. She asks where Sunday is. His shoulders tense, his wings going eerily still. He knew he'd have to face this eventually. He knew....but she's not in the will. So he...made it a lower priority.
But he doesn't run now. In fact, he just looks even more haggard, his shoulders bowing slightly with an incredible weight. He watches the mirror a bit longer.
Then she asks again. His head turns to her, his posture straightening. He doesn't quite meet her eyes.
This used to be easier, when he didn't...feel. When he wasn't personally involved. He's too close to this.
But Sunday entrusted his will to him. Told him to protect the others. His last wish.
"I found him, Signora," he rasps, the words heavy. "I did not find him in time, however."
It's now he turns to her, to properly relay this. "Signora Robin. I regret to inform you that your brother, Sunday, is now dead."
Oh no
"I found him, Signora, I did not find him in time, however."
"What.."
She can already feel the dread icing her veins no..nononono!
He turns
"Signora Robin. I regret to inform you that your brother, Sunday, is now dead."
Robin failed
Sunday was gone
No
They both failed
he's... Gone?... No no no .. robins face darkens as her eyes close tears can be seen forming in the seconds before however no no no no no I failed... No.. HE FAILED I told him to protect Sunday... Stupid fucking bird why would I not do this myself. Sunday needs a delicate and firm hand to hold him.. not a fucking soldier... No..why... Is... everything...so... Hazy.. breathing...is ...hard.. her eyes open slowly, only he is no longer looking at the beautiful emerald eyes of the Oak family head...not how he knew them at least.. there was pink in them now mixed with the standard green, a pink very reminiscent of the eyes of the bird in the mirror, the eyes of a nightingale.
"I gave you one job.. and you failed..."
She looks away trying so desperately to contain her fury until she had more answers.
"Explain exactly how this happened... Or this breath might be your last.."
Her threat was drenched in venom as all of her wings open to their full extent, the eyes of the nightingale staring deep into him. He could practically feel THEIR presence but.. this time it's different... It's almost impossible for him to figure out just who THEY are.
Welp she asked
no matter how uncomfortable it is.He knows this. He's studied it. But it's...extra difficult now...He bows his head in respect, in shared grief, when he notices her tears forming. But her breathing...a panic attack? "Signora..." he says, soft, tentative. Not the voice of a soldier or an Executor. It's just a man, who's lost someone important, trying, trying to comfort those left behind. "You must breathe."
He looks up again when she speaks, then freezes. Her eyes...is she going to use Arts?
She speaks of his failure. Robin is...not his superior in any sense. And yet he knows what she says to be true. And the statement still hurts. "I did." No excuses. He did fail.
He winces when those eyes bore into him once again, as if searching his very soul. His head hurts. It's been hurting so much.
He does not fear his own death. Not even as some...unseen force claws through and wrenches his pain and fear to the forefront. No. What he fears is continuing to fail...
His breath shudders. A report...he forces himself to straighten up, to look right at her, at the eyes, even as it makes the world spin slightly-
"By the time I found Sunday, he was being accosted by a...reflection of himself. Its goal was to put him...in the mirror, it seems. I tried to stop it." His fingers brush at his firearm. "It used him as a shield. I could not fire. Not at the risk of hurting Sunday." He swallows, feeling nauseous having to recall this in such a setting. "There were other reflections lying in weight. They hindered my progress. I couldn't...reach him." He forces his voice to remain steady.
"Sunday ordered me to depart. To protect myself and the others. Those were his last words. His final request before...before the mirror consumed him."
She did indeed
oh no...
Why where her eyes pink... ? she blinks and it slowly starts to disappear but it has its effect, she feels as though she just had a bucket of water thrown on her raging inferno, now naught but smoldering ash.
It takes her almost a full minute before she opens her eyes the pink disappearing fully, as her additional eyes close.. great... Now I'm hallucinating .. her rage is boiling but this time. Not at him.
robin... Remember your mantra.. just.. push it away we can unpack it never.. just minimize and internalize.. minimize and internalize...but it's.. it's Sunday.. before she realizes what she's doing. Her first slams into the mirror, glass shards fly in every direction and she feels every bit of it. She doesn't care
".... Take me to the spot.. where he died..."
She looks at him deep into his soul... And deems him worthy of living another moment... Barely
"You .. have given me no reason to declare you a threat.. so I.. apologize for my outbursts... You seem to be close to Sunday.. you must at least understand... A sisters grief.."
There are tears streaming down her face but she doesn't even seem to notice. She just wants to see the spot.. maybe there she can find a way to get her brother back...
All as the raven haired man watches from a distant mirror.
And now we're walkin
He remains still, watching, at attention. A silent vigil of his own.
Her fist impacts the mirror, and he twitches. There's blood. "Signora-"
She wants him to take her to the place. His breath catches. It's...can he remember where? It's all a blur when he ran...still he nods. "I will endeavor to do so. Follow me." And he steps down the hall without further preamble.
"No need to apologize, Signora." Actually yeah she should. But guy's in sort of self deprecation mode. "He is. Was. My friend." Which doesn't sound like alot. But Sunday was the first to point it out, that they were friends. Federico has trusted colleagues and coworkers, not friends. For Sunday to openly want him around as just Federico...not an Executor.
Not that any of that could save him in the end.
A sister's grief...would Arturia grieve him in such a way if he died? ...he's. Not sure...it did hurt to learn she'd been here, then died. "I...think I'm beginning to," he replies, softly.
As they walk, he can see her tears dripping, and the blood trickling down her hand. His jaw tenses. Protect the others. Please.
"Signora Robin. You should...tend to that, as we walk. It will take some time, after all." He produces a red handkerchief with the suggestion, offering it to her.
It's the same one he'd given Sunday when they met. It's been washed since, of course, but the familiarity makes his chest ache.
Don't worry she hates herself just as much
Her voice is almost... Monotone it's so different from her regular, even when enraged there is always a singy undertone but now.. now it's just gone.
Robin feels numb. Absolutely numb.. she can barely feel her arm despite the glass shards digging into her knuckles. She needs the sensation, the pain, a reminder of failure.
"This was just as much my failure as it was yours... Has I not slowed you down you would have made it in time, has I not been so injured then perhaps we both could have made it in time... But we didn't"
There is no sobbing there is no strained breathing, by the tone of her voice you'd struggle to tell that there are tears washing down her face. how.. could I fail so badly... How did my ambitions blow up in my face to this extent...was father right?... If... If I had focused on the festival like he said... Then I wouldn't have lost.. I wouldn't have been wounded.. I'd have been able to save him... Maybe.. maybe father is right..no no father was a fool... I think.. her mind feels like a thick haze has blown in clouding her thoughts and blowing them all around.
"When... When we get there... I.. I am family head so normally I would be responsible for funeral rights... I apologize but I am not sure I would be able to give them given the circumstances."
Her voice was still unusually monotone as if her entire world just slipped into autopilot.
wrong!! Putting a stop to that when he sees it outside himself. Mans craves tasks.
He lets out a slow breath as he picks out the pieces of glass, careful, one by one, ignoring how his own vision is a bit bleary with exhaustion. This is something he can do. By the Law he will do it. "You cannot know that for certain. I could have been delayed by any number of things." As well as there being many things that could have killed Sunday. For once, he keeps that to himself. "Tormenting yourself with hypotheticals such as that also serves no purpose."
His voice is also it's usual monotone, but just a bit softer. Worn. He's using the same cold logic he's been slamming against his own regrets, guilt, fears...it's all he has. Faced with her own numb, agonized resonance, it's all he can do to keep afloat.
So he takes the glass out of her hand (if she lets him. Even if she resists, he might double down.) He pulls out some bandages from a small emergency kit, cleaning and dressing the wound. If she lets him, it will be done in about 5 minutes.
"The sterilization can hurt. But it seems that is your wish. But now it is at least not an active risk of infection." Now they continue walking. His head tilts to her, distantly curious.
"What sorts of death rites do you you perform? Is there something you need?" He's already gathering things for the will...
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"That was... Unnecessary..."
She allows him to heal her hand, after all there is little rush, not like there is a Sunday left to protect... She jokes to herself bitterly.... how... Is any of this real... Is this THEIR punishment for my ambition? To take away the one man I care about more than anything?
"Burial rites in Penacony... Do not exist... But there are some from our old home world. I... I remember them.... But I'd need two things, the body and the will. If he was pushed through a mirror then we won't be able to find his body unless it spits it back out. And I highly doubt he wrote a will. They are extremely important in holovian culture... They are normally given to a sibling or a best friend and not the partner as most other cultures do it... But seeing as neither of those things exist.. I would simply like to hold a small vigil.."
It's the most she's spoken in one go since he told her, it comes out cold and robotic but there is a tinge of sadness to it. She clearly is still blaming herself for this however illogical it may be ...
She's forgotten about one of the very first things he told her in her panic...
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He has no idea that the very woman he's treating is contemplating murdering him at that very moment.
"I believe it very neccessary, Signora." His eyes flick to her for a moment, tired, but resolute. "Your brother would wish me to keep you whole and healthy. If a wound like that is not treated quickly, it will grow infected." Normal bacterial infection, not the magic rock cancer kind. Then again there is a plant growth on this ship... "Treating it now saves the trouble of treating more issues later." It's logical to him. Leaving something to hurt when something can be done to soothe the pain? Illogical. It's that simple.
He continues to walk with her. He listens, intent as would be expected of an Executor. He's well versed in death rites in other cultures so as to not cause international incidents in his work, and is taking this in almost greedily. "I see. Because Penacony is a world of dreams, and no one dies in a dream." Allegedly.
A body...his wings fold in on themselves a little. He'd...not seen the full aftermath. He does not know if Sunday will still be visible in the mirror, or would be lost to the depths. He'd run away
like a cowardbefore he could see it all.But a will. .....best friend? There are rankings of friendships?
....that is not an appropriate question for the current situation.
"Signora. Sunday entrusted me with his will approximately a week ago. I have been working to fulfill it in the wake of his death." It's tucked safely away on his person, weighing heavily over his heart. He's...reluctant to procure the actual paper. He does not have the proper materials to properly safeguard it here... also he's quite sure he's mentioned this will to Robin before?
..... "Would you like me to recite it to you as we walk?" What do you need? I will strive to fulfill it.
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"Oh... Right you told me before... It... Must have slipped my mind.."
Robin seems genuinely uncertain all of a sudden, how.. how... Could I forget that... she seems almost... Hollow compared to normal, her posture is rigid and militaristic like a puppet on a string, her voice is empty, lacking it's signature hum and cadence.
"If you would read it to me.... That would be lovely.."
She is still focusing on the fog over her mind something is wrong... Why can't I remember
...
She starts thinking back further and further, more and more specks seem to be blurry.. there was a long stretch leading up to the announcement of the charmony festival... And another large blot surrounding when she had her limbs perfected... my memory is normally perfect.... Am.i losing my edge?
"In response to your earlier statement I intended to leave the wound as a grounding agent to help stabilize myself, if ... Anything happens I can focus on my pain and it should bring me back...but I suppose you are right.."
let's hear this will and find out who....who our people of interest are...
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....he's failing her by not being there to protect her anymore. He feels sick.)
Federico shakes himself. Some things cannot be helped. But he can do this.
He takes a breath. "I lack the proper archival tools, and I do not wish to risk damaging the will itself. I can recite it by memory, however."
As for the injury...pain as a grounding tool. That...he understands. It's what kept him afloat in encountering Ishar'mla here. Come to think of it...
There's a similar...clouding happening with Robin. He can only sense it when he focuses solely on her, through the clashing tones, the pain in his own mind...yes. It's like a heavy static is spreading over her own connection. Is it an emotional response...? He does not know.
Still. He can recite the will. It's something for them both to focus on.
So he places a hand over his heart, the box holding the paper. He recites it, word for word, as if the paper were in front of him.
He only falters on the last words. Just a little. Is he really a wonderful friend if he'd left Sunday to die alone? He doesn't know. He doesn't know.
"I could only retrieve Sunday's glove from the incident. That has been delivered to Fou-Lu. The rest...is in progress, as of now."
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"It.. it's hard to believe he is really gone... If.. we somehow get a chance I would like to do a proper burial rite but I doubt that.. you said he was pushed through the mirror correct?"
Robin bushes her bangs back subconsciously as she runs her head. maybe... Maybe I can go in after him.. I can bring him back... Or.. worst case scenario.. I can at least be reunited with him in death... Assuming we go to the same place after we die .. no no robin you must live so that you can lead, you and only you can show the world what it means to be truely perfect in THEIR eyes you are the apex... You are transcendent .... Gods... Am I even starting to sound like dad... Fuck... Wait... Why is that even a bad thing... He helped me so much after all...
She refocuses on what's in front of her, she hopes they are getting close as this somber walk is utterly agonizing... She glances in a mirror and for a split second her father is staring back at her, the moment she blinks and does a double take he is gone. Replaced by her usual reflection.. except it just feels... Foggy.
great robin.. the hallucinations are getting worse...
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He does, in fact, again offer the red handkerchief from before. "You're crying." No sh*t Sherlock.
He takes a deep breath. "Yes. I understand you've grown up with him, so this cannot compare. But...he was one of the first I'd met in this strange place." A pause. "And he was, yes. I will help with whatever you see fit." As long as it's not hurting herself again. Because that goes against Sunday's wishes.
"We should be almost there." Movement flickers out of the corner of his vision. That man again. "Signora...I see. Someone who is not you, in some reflections. A man, in dark clothing. Is he someone you know?"
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"Signora...I see. Someone who is not you, in some reflections. A man, in dark clothing. Is he someone you know?"
Robin stops in her tracks Federico... Can see him?... Are we both going insane? Maybe.. maybe it's just the stress... Yeah yeah we are both hallucinating... Sundays death must have had an effect.. but... How does he know what dad looks like... It.. it must just be another person he knows that is similar.. yeah... It can't be dad... Why am I so worried over dad??.. it hurt... Because it hurt... she starts walking again after a few seconds.
"It's nothing Federico... Just a trick of the eye. Exhaustion is probably getting to the both of us.. once.. once we do this we should both rest..."
She doesn't even realize it but her resonance to Federico has been growing fainter and fainter, she can hardly sense it at all...
"If there is a body... Assuming we have the means.. then I would like to launch a skywing ceremony..it would take a lot of effort and may not be doable with our limited resources.. but I should at least try..."
She picks up her pace very slightly so that she is side my side with Federico.
"We should be close correct?"
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He proceeds a couple more steps ahead before he realizes Robin stopped. He turns, the growing static on her end feeling more...pronounced in her lack of answer. "Signora...?"
But then she walks beside him again. They continue on.
"Exhaustion...? I assure you I've rested adequately in the time being." Not well. Not at all. He knows it's important to rest. But it's very hard to rest when your thoughts go in circles and tangle up and- "But...your suggestion is reasonable." Robin looks exhausted.
"I will assist with whatever you need. Whatever the...skywing ceremony may entail." He lets out a long breath. The fading, drowning resonance....Robin is not well. The sooner this is over with...
"It...was here." They round the corner, into another mirrored corridor like the others. One mirror is shattered, glass littering the floor. There's a white bundle of fabric crumpled up in the floor that Federico steps toward.
Another mirror is completely black. A lightless void with all its reflectivity melted on the floor. This is the mirror Federico gestures to, his head bowing. "It was this one, Signora."
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She says.this without looking at Federico, instead she's staring deep into the only black mirror. She reaches out her hand attempting to reach through, only to simply plink against the glass. fuck... This is really it huh.... He's really gone... It's almost ... No no it's tragic, Sunday was the best of us even.. even if he wouldn't listen... He didn't deserve this... she gently brushes her hand against the mirror.
"Sunday... I'm sorry..... I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you this time...why.. why would you never listen to me you stupid ... Stubborn... Amazing man...why.. why do you deny THEIR gifts..."
The tears start to fall before she has even realized it. Robin has cried more during her time on the boat then she has the entire rest of her life... She hates it. She turns to face Federico, her left eye has a pink tinge to it and this time it isn't the tears.
"I doubt it would be possible but traditional ceremonies normally involve casting the deceased into space on a small personal shuttle... However resources are limited.. perhaps we should just drape what little we have over the mirror... As a memorial.."
She gently turns back twords the mirror and rests her head against it. Letting out small muffled whimpers like that of a mourning songbird.
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It's not like Robin is looking anyway. Still, it's only then that Federico hands his cloak over. He's almost tempted to drape it over her shaking shoulders, but does as he's told.
"Who's gifts?" he asks, curiosity muted by the heavy air of loss.
And...ah. Yes. "We have no access to..."space" from here." Space travel on Terra is still a far off dream as far as he knows. And there's no body. So they must adapt. "That could suffice, yes."
The pink makes his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary. She's...struggling to keep her Arts in check, perhaps. But when she turns to mourn in full, he stands beside her, head bowed, as if in prayer. But he's silent. Only her mournful cries echo across the mirrored halls.
They pain him. He can only imagine how this would distress Sunday, seeing his sister in such a state. But all Federico can do is stand in silent vigil.
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"THEY are called Aeons, in a way.. they are the gods of our world, if this Sunday was like me... Then he was influenced by two of them. The first was Xipe the harmony, also known as the triple faced god... THEY have marked my right side. The other.. is Ena the Order THEY are a complicated one, our father followed THEM fervently and so we did too, however Ena was absorbed my Xipe long ago.. yet there are still remnants of the order inside of the harmony... Ena lives but THEIR power is far diminished, I am the only true order pathstrider, this I have THEIR sole attention. It is Ena that my left side is molded after... I am THEIR perfect fusion..."
perfect... You... You are perfect robin ... So why I cry so?
She slowly backs up and stares at the mirror, completely oblivious to the changes she is undergoing. dad... Was right ... We weren't ready... I should have listened... Like he told me to.. like THEY told me to..
She lifts up the cloak and observes it, it's not sunday's... But it will do..
She drapes the cloak over the blacked out mirror. She turns to Federico, her voice shaky
"Federico, neither you or I will be able to fulfill his will exhausted. I intend to aid you and.. and do what I can.. this is not up for debate..."
She once again rests. Her head in the now covered mirror.
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"I remember this. Sunday mentioned...having to break away from the Order you speak of." Or was it he was cast out? It was a difficult topic Federico didn't want to press on at the time. Perhaps he should have. Maybe it would have helped Robin now.
Perfect fusion......he looks over her arms, the eyes changing color. The bandages. "If it is so perfect, why does it seem to hurt you so?" he asks softly.
She drapes the cloak over the mirror. Perhaps it can keep Sunday warm, somehow. Wherever he is. If he's even aware...his throat tightens, so he redirects his thoughts. The will. "I have...worked under worse conditions." He pauses, as if reluctant to continue. "Sleep has been. Elusive to me, as of late. But if you require rest, we can...take some time in the lounge, perhaps."
His brow furrows, frustration coiling in his chest. "Much of the will requires objects we cannot reach as of now. How do you intend to change this?" For the will without her name... "I do not think your assistance is necessary."
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"My body... My body is perfect.. it is my mind that still resists.. the inmate desire for survival and resistance to change that beats in all life, I am no different. My mind still has many changes to make... So that it may be forged a new... And once this is complete I will ascend and absorb THEM in THEIR entirety. That... That is why I do not seem perfect... Because.... Because I'm not.. but I will be soon.."
Her voice is cold and her words carry an ominous unsaid warning. why... Why do I even need to be perfect... That was fathers dream... Then it should be ours too... she turns back to him, her left eye now housing a pink iris instead of her normal emerald. The change is no longer subtle.
"As for why I insist on helping you it is because as his sibling it is my duty ... Had he not explicitly trusted you with the will I would have demanded you hand it over so that I may carry it out... However as circumstances our different... I at least need to assist in it's completion. This is not up for debate."
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This is not a good thing to draw connections to.
"....it is not a sin to want to survive, Signora. To question. It is not an imperfection." Maybe a couple years ago he wouldn't have even considered such a thing. But His Holiness encouraged questions. An order, but not. And as hard as further understanding has made his work, he doesn't feel it is....bad. That Robin speaks of her individuality, her life as something to shed in persuit of perfection. It doesn't...sit right with him.
That unease compounds when the piercing magenta of her eye turns to him. It's wrong. Something is wrong. His eyes narrow.
"The will was indeed entrusted to me, and as an Executor and his friend, I will carry it out to its fullness." Even the insinuation of her taking it from him makes his wings flare, sharp obsidian edges glinting in the low light. That sharpness transfers into his next words.
"You are not well, Signora Robin. You need rest. I will execute the will; I do not require your assistance. After all, your name is not even in it. You have no power in this situation." So would the Law dictate. No they're not in Laterano. But it's all he knows, and all his overly tired mind can cling to.
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Robin slowly starts to walk forward, stumbling slightly as she'd been leaning against the mirror for so long. now that he mentions is... Fuck why am I so tired?... No... We need to push on...I could not save Sunday.. I at least need to see this through...
"You speak of my condition but yours is no better... Both of us are exhausted and we both need rest.. if what you said earlier is true and some items we need to disperse are unreachable currently then we should both rest and clear our heads. Once we are able to carry out the will we shall... And I do mean we. I may not have been close to this Sunday but he is still my brother. As dictated my holovian traditions the family must have a role in the burial.. and I am the closest thing to family he has."
The way she says 'the family " is unnerving but it's not clear exactly as to why. He notices the pink in her eye has faded slightly and her resonance is slightly stronger as well.
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And wishes for him to reach the same.
Not imperfections for others, but for her...he remembers Sunday claiming something similar. But enlightenment...? A guiding light? Is that even possible...?
....his hand lays on the handle of his gun. It tightens, as he considers her questions. It's alot for his very literal, very tired mind to consider. Many hypotheticals. Even now his thoughts are running on overdrive to parse out how a perfect world would even look. Laterano is always professed as a paradise. But that is only because its laws and the peace they bring, are upheld by Executors. And even then, it is far from perfect. There is sorrow, strife, loss. He thinks of Cecelia losing her mother, and being hunted for what she is. Of the sarkaz at the monastery, how they were turned away from Laterano.
What Robin says makes sense. But if it's anything like what Sunday tried to do...it is also a removal of agency. He takes a deep breath. "I am an Executor, which is...like a soldier. But also a Notary, and law enforcement. My...world," Saints, that's still a strange concept, other worlds... "It is ravaged by calamities and wars. Sickness. There is much pain there." He sighs. "Hypothetically, the eradication of such would be indeed, a blessing. But can there truly be peace if its opposite, if all conflict is eradicated?" A pursuit of perfection, disregarding the lone, singed flower in the ruined garden...
Federico looks to her, steady, immovable. "And what if your idea of peace is not everyone's idea of peace? What then? Would you force it upon them? Even if it would make them unhappy?" An Abbot, wishing to bring his congregation into the fold of the seaborn as a last resort for survival, but then throwing out the acrid flesh at the last minute, in shame. How the gardener partook of that discarded option, was rejected, and chose to die...
Federico tilts his head, grip tight on his patron firearm. "Do you know, with certainty, that your idea of an ideal world is truly a paradise?" He closes his eyes, for a moment. "I do wish for your brother to not be burdened by his troubles, his pursuit of perfection." It hurts Sunday. He's seen it. It's hurting Robin now, perhaps. "But I believe he, and everyone, should have the choice to bear them. I do not think one person can just take them all away. It's not possible."
....Sunday is dead now, anyway. Federico hopes his burdens did not follow him.
He stiffens when she turns his words back on him. "I have operated under worse conditions, Signora. I will rest when necessary." Once he figures out how... "I have not exhausted all avenues of proceeding." Once he tracks down Aurelia...Aventurine should be around here as well.... "You should go rest, Signora. I will be fine." He's not budging on this. "I understand culture is important. As is family. But you are not on your home world right now. And I must reiterate you are not in the will. I cannot speak for Sunday as to why that is, but because of that, as an Executor, I deem you have no grounds to enforce your participation." His words are growing monotone again, more cold and clipped. Federico is not an easy man to anger, but...considering the circumstances, they're reaching something like it.
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Robin's words are aimed with stinging precision, she's trying to piss him off because she is pissed off how dare he... How fucking dare he.. this man has no idea what I've done.. what I've sacrificed in THEIR name, all so I can be purified in THEIR eyes, all so I can shape my body to reflect THEIR wishes... He has no clue.. how could a pawn comprehend anything of this caliber... I was a fool for expecting otherwise.. robins rage is almost palpable. Even as her resonance was muted it still shines through.
He can feel her power soaring.. she's about to do something stupid.
"I told you once before.. pawn.. I. Wasn't. Asking."
Her wings extend and the eyes open as he suddenly feels the weight of the world on him, he feels compelled to listen to her.. to obey her. Even in her weakened state, she is still formidable. But is it enough.
"I still allow you to carry his will only by my infinite mercy, why must you seek to throw it away, you WILL let me assist you and the proceedings will be carried out to my standard. Once this is done... You will forget all you knew about my brother...Am I clear?"
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He does not trust this!!!!!!
He absolutely shouldn't
And yet. He is big tired and music interests him more than he'd care to admit! Sneaky Robin...
HI3 trauma activate
oof owch I know this one wah
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