TDM #3, arc 1.4: and all at once we were radiant

[lamentus]

BUFF

Bonded of Tarnished Az-Mehet will be able to see beyond the masking holograms the party goers wear tonight, to see their true selves.

DEBUFF

As if overstrained from the last few months, bonded of the Last Pilgrim will have two of their senses mixed up and confused. Colour will have a taste, or letters will have a sound, etc.

At first, you feel a pull. In which direction, you do not know. When a portal of shimmering black and glittering stars appears in front of you, it only seems natural to step into it. On the journey, it is as if you see everything: ancient galaxies wheeling through space, cultures born and growing and leaving their planets, lights creeping over landmasses and them winking out all at once. You see the hungry arm of a black hole, an enigmatic smile under a mirrored mask, a fist clenched tight around an endless sword. Fangs shining in starlight, bandaged feet that have traveled so many miles and still remain sturdy, and code shattering under titanium will.

And then your feet touch solid ground again, and what you have seen is suddenly hard to recall, the merest of glimpses springing to mind when you try to think back.

All you know is that you witnessed something enormous, something you probably shouldn't have seen.

As you struggle to refocus your gaze, all you see for a long moment is white. White walls, white floor. Narrow white cots lined up against a wall, screens blinking above them in tones of soothing aqua and mint. You are in a medbay — a highly advanced one, given the lack of bulky machinery — but perhaps the most eye-catching thing about the room is a long window showing endless black and twinkling stars outside.

Before you can give voice to any thoughts, a small robot flutters toward you, and perches on the back of a chair. "Hello, Wayfarer!" the birdform chirps cheerfully. "I imagine you must have many questions; allow me to enlighten you! You have fallen victim to a quantum accident and have been pulled to another universe, but the Ascendants, in their generosity, intercepted your signal and brought you here so that you did not wind up in empty space. You are aboard the Theorem of the Astral Rose; our mission is to explore uncharted space and search for the Song!"

They pause, thinking, their little blue eye aglow, and then brighten.

"Oh! Introductions are in order! I am Starling's Lament in Flight, but you may call me Starling's Lament. I am one of the Hosts of this exploration vessel; we will do everything we can to ensure a safe voyage for you. Unfortunately, at this moment, we cannot send you home. The Ascendants have indicated that their search for the Song may play some key role in doing so."

They whistle a merry tune. "Please enjoy your stay! The other Wayfarers are currently getting themselves ready for a ball!"

PHASESHIFT

A week ago, the Theorem of the Astral Rose had recieved an invitation to an annual event held by the Conversation; a gathering of spaceships beyond the edge of Alliance space that are hosting a hologram ball. Robbed of their crews for a variety of reasons, these ships decided to make their own little society in the middle of space, and as the Theorem pulls in to park alongside the gathering, an impressive sight awaits out the windows.



Ships of all shapes and sizes are posed in rings of concentric circles, surrounding a piece of space that looks to the eye like it warps and flickers. Many of the ships on the outside are visibly broken down and rusted; dead, but still accompanying their comrades. In the backdrop lays a pale green planet, its faraway star casting orange-red light across the ships.

The Wayfarers won't be traveling to any of these ships, though. Instead, you are guided to the Holo Deck, and once everybody is inside, the white walls shift dramatically, plunging everybody inside into a new environment.



There are enormous arches of marble framing a long, rectangular room. Every arch peeks through to a different scene; a golden tree glimmering with light, red tents in a crowded market, a swimming pool in which aqualine shapes drift through the water. The floor is near-mirrored black, reflecting a ceiling of stars and swirling galaxies, while electric candles gather in clumps along pillars to light the room with amber-yellow light. Atop a grand staircase stands a shipmind with a feminine appearance: her skin is brown-black-blue, and her hair is a drifting cosmos trailing into stardust. In her seven arms she holds tiny moons in different phases, and with a smile, she welcomes the Wayfarers and the other ships of the Conversation.

You notice others start to arrive, blinking into the holographic room. Many of them have their names floating above their heads, and so, you can tell the majority of them are other ships from the Conversation, dressed in fantastical imagery. One is a holographic representation of its own shipform in miniature, drifting about the main floor. Others are a rainbow, or an aquatic creature swimming in a splash of water, or a creature of many heads and legs, or a stormcloud flashing with lightning. Some are humanoids, others are robotforms, and every kind of alien inbetween.

So, too, can the Wayfarers edit their own appearances with merely a thought. Fancy dress, or relevant imagery, whatever they choose to appear as, they can do so.

The shipmind at the stop of the stairs says, "Welcome, honored guests. As we stand in a shared digital space, so too do we share our thoughts and opinions, our ideas and our hopes. The Conversation is a space for remembering the past, and considering the future — but most importantly, this is a time for celebration between the many peoples we invited to this neutral space." She smiles, and the curve of it is parabolic perfection, a golden-white gleam. "My name is Waltz of the Celestial Tide: and now we shall dance."

With a click of her fingers, music sweeps through the hall. A jaunty jazz that many Wayfarers may be familiar with, layered over with modern beats — and the gathered entities flow with an excited buzz onto the dancefloor, motioning the Wayfarers to follow suit.

Dance, and be merry, for all things erode, and entropy comes for us all.

TALE

While many continue to dance the night away, others in the ball break off as various other activities begin.

Through one of the archways lays a city square done in pale stone and warm dawn light, shadows of people passing to and fro. In the middle is an enormous tree shaped like puffy clouds, golden light gleaming in firefly-points on its leaves and strings of lanterns strung merrily through its branches.



In front of it are more lanterns, elegant constructions of thin paper and wooden bracing, floating from strings, shaped like people and planets and creatures. As people gather, a story begins.

At first, there are planets. Separate from each other, but linked by temples on their myriad surfaces. Seasoned Wayfarers can even recognize a depiction of Epsilon-355, a yellow globe with a pyramid temple of glass atop it. Among the planets swims a lantern shaped like two white koi fish in an eternal synchronized dance, flashing over and under one another, tending to the temples and making them brighten with their attention.

"Once, a very old god tended to their small garden." A voice rings out to accompany the imagery — the keen-eyed may see a small ship-shape darting between the lanterns to move them where the voice is coming from. "But then, along came one who lives in eternal discontent."

A depiction of a black hole — a swirling kite-shape in purples and blacks — descends upon the scene. "The Empty Machine saw that which had not yet been consumed, and sought to rectify that problem." The black hole lantern swallows up the two white koi, and all of the temples on the planets flare with light and then die, holographic shockwaves spreading outward and rippling across space.



"Soon after, the Last Pilgrim made their journey across that now barren field." A star-shaped lantern enters the scene; no two of its faces are the same size or shape or colour, depicting the Last Pilgrim's many facets and journeys. "They honored those lost temples and said goodbye to them, and at very end of that adventure, they met Tarnished Az-Mehet." Another lantern bobs into view, three masks of differing emotions and colors. "They held one another, and the Last Pilgrim gave the temples to Tarnished Az-Mehet, the Caretaker of the Lost, to tend to. They both left a fragment of their power within each, locked in permanent embrace. This we have recorded."

On their heels comes a lantern shaped like a data chip, careening carelessly through the space, unheeding of what had come before it, tendrils reaching out to touch little lantern-ships on the edge of the platform.

"When MALFUNCTION VII followed closely, their spark brewed a storm in ships on the edge of Alliance space. The shipminds broke their chains and left their crews at home, or had already been abandoned, and so formed the Conversation."

With that, the show ends, and conversation springs up among the watchers. Will you talk of the story you just witnessed?

RECALL

Another archway leads to a long black lake spread as far as the eye can see, lit only by pinpoints of candlelight that float above it. A crowd is forming along the shoreline: ships, and other representatives of factions.

Those who have been studying up on ship technology and its history may be able to date the ships by their names. The most ancient, the first wave of spacefaring vessels, named for hopeful dreams like Discovery and Explorer, the wishes of sentient beings being flung into space. Then, the more mathematical names of the middle age of spacefaring, harder names to reflect a society's increasing technology and reliance upon it: Axiom-500, Delta Star, Gravity Chaser VII. And then finally, the poetry of the modern age: Crimson Veil, Lost Compass to the Stars, A Sky Coloured Like Static, and your host of the night, Waltz of the Celestial Tide.

But there are other factions here, too. A being entirely cloaked in shadow is labeled as being from The Maw, aligned with the Empty Machine, with their tawdry ageships bristling with recycled bone. The Red Harvest, followers of the Sorrowweld, who find the beginnings of plagues and slay all those afflicted in their own form of mercy. The Grief-Singers of Quant, whose voices ring out through the ages to follow Tarnished Az-Mehet. Those and more have representatives here.

Here, on the edge of this lake, you will send messages to the dead.



Everyone has their own dead. Biological creatures have their blood kin and their social circle that have passed on. These shipminds have their dead slowly rusting at the edge of Conversation space, fragments of their coding still drifting through the ether.

As entities around you begin to pass on their messages to the dead, holographic text spills forth from the mouth, from the mind, to swirl up like a gentle breeze into the air, sending your messages across the lake.

EXPERIENCE

As the evening begins to draw to a close, Wayfarers are guided to one last event: the banquet. Long tables flicker into existence, and upon them, fantastical dishes start to appear. Some are simple; soups of swirling red and orange, roast meats charred to perfection, skewers of brightly coloured vegetables. Others are more esoteric; gelatinous cubes, plates of dancing vapour, glass orbs trapping swirls of firefly lights.

At the head of one of the tables, the representative from the Grief-Singers of Quant stands. Clad entirely in muted red, she wears a form-fitting bodysuit with a hooded cloak layered atop it — and when she lowers that hood, gasps of surprise and awe ring out across the room. If any Wayfarers have been getting into the popular entertainment of this universe, they may recognize her as Discordia, a popular singer-streamer. Her talent? Singing in multiple notes with the many mouths cutting lines across her cheeks and throat and collarbones.

She sings in a spectrum, in a language that the Wayfarers cannot translate, but it seems to have some effect on the crowd: those who have eyes and hands are using the latter to subtly wipe the former. But then Discordia laughs musically, claps her hands, and announces the start of the banquet — and the mood lifts, like magic.

Dig in!

RED SPICED WINE WITH CINNAMON

A ruby-red drink with charming accoutrements, this cocktail is at first warm and subtly spiced, tasting of mulled wine. As one drinks further, however, the tastes change, and one will find themselves experiencing the tastes of a winter night: the ash of a fireplace, the winter-mint of spruce, even the rasp of a blanket across one's tongue.

CURIOUSLY SHAPED SALAD

This salad is crisp, green, and everything a salad should be. It also tastes like a rhombus. How does something taste like a rhombus, you ask? You'll just have to eat it and experience it for yourself.

SKEWERED DUMPLING, FEAT. MUSICAL ACCOMPANIMENT

Skewers upon which sit delicate dough dumplings, soft and sweet, glazed with frosted sugar. These are Discordia's favourite food, and consumption of these will catapault a rush of data to one's frontal cortex, and impart them with intimate, stan-level knowledge of her entire discography. Each song, as it hits the neurons, has its own distinct flavour.

THE FULL MONTY

Ah, fried meat. A classic. Can anybody truly mess with such a classic? Well, eating this particular dish will take one's tastebuds on an epicurean journey through an entire five-course meal, starting with a light soup and ending with a sumptuous dessert.

FORWARD

Finally, it is time to draw the ball to an end. You say your goodbyes, and the hologram around you gently fades, drawing you back into the reality of the Holo Deck.

The Hosts bid you come with them to a meal — for those who are craving actual food — and a briefing on what the next planet holds. As the Wayfarers bustle into the mess hall, the food trucks are cheerily lit with string lights, and the tables are formed in a loose circle, surrounding Starling's Lament in Flight, who is setting up a presentation.

With after-dinner coffees and teas in hand, the Wayfarers are presented with information on the planet you will travel to next.

A hologram blooms to life, showing the local star cluster. Your current location is highlighted, then a line moves from it to another star in the distance. Curiously, a red wispy line arcs through this new cluster as well: Starling's Lament informs you that this was a recent known path of the Empty Machine, and the planet you'll be going to next was not far from their path. The hologram zooms in, showing a star system, and then a planet.



Sonnet-110 is a marble of red and blue, large continents stretching across a broken ocean. There, Starling's Lament says, particularly strong Edict readings have been found, likely the result of the Empty Machine having drifted so close to it. Long-range readings have also found a signal being blasted at this planet from a point in the far-distance, but have so far been unable to translate this signal. Life signs seem extremely likely.

This is your next destination, Wayfarers. Plan, and make ready — but most importantly, take some time to relax on the Theorem, as we never know what the future has in store for us.

(CODE)

Comments

dan heng ― hsr

[moondrank]

come together

(it was strange, wasn't it? cloudhymn magic hides himself behind a guise of seeming human, but he stands there without it. unable to call upon it, unable to find his weapon. one would expect to see the imbibitor lunae, but that was not the case. what was seen is something else. dan heng is taller, larger than before. horns poking out of his hair, pointed ears, and a rather large tail threatening to near knock down anyone that found themselves too close to him. he offers apologies, but he's truly out of his depth in this mysterious place.

there's a lot to wrap his head around, but he has another....problem. the people talk and the sound carries over like music, the taste of them on his tongue mixing depending on the mood of those speaking like a cocktail. some sour, some sweet, some refreshing. it's almost overwhelming, but he manages to keep acting as if he were fine. no need to alarm some of the guests about his current predicament. whatever it is, anyway. the guests dance, but dan heng does not. he opts instead to keep off the dance floor, eyes following along with their movements. almost impressed, but impassive.

for someone out of his depth, he isn't doing terribly at seeming like he was meant to be there. wherever this is. his suit of choice wasn't too bad, either.)

I'm not interested in dancing, before you ask. (he heard someone coming over, so he didn't bother to look. given they called him a wayfarer, it's safer to assume it's another one looking for a dance partner.) My tail would knock over people, and I'm doubtful that would make for a good first impression.

(....yeah, he's half making excuses, but he genuinely didn't think it was a good idea.)

a breather

(after escaping the dance floor, dan heng had thought it best to wander. to see if he can find somewhere to gather his thoughts at. the tastes and the sounds were throwing him off, the blending of them and how colors only seem to exist when someone speaks. he wishes he knew what could be causing it, but he doesn't question this too much. dan heng had grown used to oddities in his time spent trailblazing, this was nothing in comparison to that. he knows this.

but that does little to stop him from wondering if he's alone. as of now, he hasn't run into anyone else at the party (or if he had, it was likely not for long) during what seemed to be a galactic event of the ages by how the others described it. some were off playing games, others seemed to have gathered for stories that were being spread around. dan heng couldn't give it as much attention as he desired before he managed to find somewhere quiet. somewhere away from this crowd enough to gather his bearings.

alone, he hopes, but he knows that's unlikely given it seems he has a guest nearby. likely another wayfarer when he sits down, mindful of his tail and keeping it neatly folded at his side.)

I'll be out of your hair shortly, I just needed a break.

take the journey

(with everything said and done, it isn't difficult to fall back into his usual habits. a breather. he's still the person who documented and filled the databank back home with tidbits and other details that they picked up on. perhaps he also could have taken up charge to join others on the frontline too, but....he can do more good for now with helping until then. he's at the library, datapad's and other sources of materials he can get his hands on. he was attempting to find out more about this planet they mentioned, sonnet-110. dan heng has spread about a number of books, too. neatly and set about the table with a glass of coffee nearby.

it's unbelieveable that the first thing he does when given the chance is stick his nose in a book, but he did need to get a better grasp of what's going on somehow. it was easier to read than focus on how the world around him is so gray when there were no sounds. or truly, about how he can taste and hear notes.

nothing about that part of his unusual condition, but he'll take any small victories he can. while he goes over the texts, he's not paying attention. not to any wayfarers who might be looking at him, especially not to the time as the hours tick away. he forgets that he's not supposed to be awake for lengthy periods with the loss of his abilities as a vidyadhara, which is why by late morning, he would be found face down against his table that he commandeered.

someone has....unfortunately fallen asleep in the library, perhaps you should wake him?)

wildcard

( entropy here after being lovingly enabled for this, but if none of these catch your attention, always happy for anyone to bring their own! you can also reach out to me over pm's or plurk at entropist for any plotting or to ask for a starter. i'll leave a note that i'm rusty as hell with dan heng and do not mind spoilers as i wasn't entirely caught up yet. i'm taking him from 3.7 as another note because i forgot to mention it. )

>> A BREATHER

[justamobster]

[ The seat he takes is near a fella in a sharp looking dinner suit, smoking a cigarette that smells almost like tobacco. Ladon's been keeping to the periphery of the party as he usually does, not mixing with the crowd so much as observing and keeping a weather eye out for anything new, interesting, or threatening.

He's seen plenty new, but few things that catch his interest and nothing to get his hackles up just yet, but then someone with a tail and horns appears and takes a seat. He finds himself touching his own (filed down, hidden) horns and does his best to mask it as smoothing his hair back. His tail he knows is tucked away, inaccessible as it currently is-- as any of his draconic features are. But nothing like someone wearing the features you usually hide out in the open to make a fella feel all subconscious.

He shakes his head to the man's apologetic words. ] No problem, pal. Take as much time as you need, yeah? S'a helluva thing, out there.

[ Said like a soldier in the trenches, not a dinner guest at a ball. Because this kind of thing just isn't Ladon's tempo, and he's going to avoid the dance floor as much as possible until he can sneak off, away from all this formality and schmoozing. ]

[moondrank]

(typically these features are hidden away, doesn't matter who or what he is at the time. the imbibitor lunae, the permansor terrae, it was easier to blend in with people who couldn't see or recognize what he was. despite it all, he wasn't minding as much as he would have in the past. what he is, who is he truly, it didn't matter in retrospect as he grew to accept and step forward what once was had been. he is not dan feng, he never will be, but he can only be true to who is as dan heng.

the other man seemed relaxed a bit, a smoker? he doesn't necessarily mind. they've been around their share of people that did that in other worlds on the express, even penacony had a few smokers from what he recalled hearing from the others. nothing else that he'd ask about, but he's staying calm. when ladon speaks, he sees colors blend into the black and white spectrum of the world. that was the other thing throwing him off, he can't see colors without a sound or without something attached to it. the notes in the other man's voice didn't have much of a taste.

only the taste of a smooth brandy? that was his best guess.)

I just got here recently, I would have expected something else that wasn't necessarily a ball going on, but....

(he can't exactly complain about it, can he? he's ran into one of his close friends, there was that. the rest will come together given time once he's found his footing.)

[justamobster]

[ He grimaces a little in sympathy. New to the suddenly-in-space game and thrown head first into a formal ball? Not the way he'd chose to come at things either. He takes a long draw on his cigarette before answering, so that each word winds up punctuated by a plume of smoke. ]

That's rough. Can putcha a bit at ease, this ain't a normal day here. We're usually scrapin' out survival on a planet, but guess we did a good 'nough job at the previous one that they're throwin' us a party. Without askin' what kinda party we'd like, of course.

[ This is not his scene. At all. Parties in general aren't, but he'd rather a smoky club. Less dressing like a penguin and a little more rowdy crowd. He's here because some of the Wayfarers he cares about came, but he's more or less just being a wallflower. ]

Take the Journey

[nterwebz]

[ Wake him? Not before she gets a good picture of the library's newly established Sleeping Beauty for her records using her handy-dandy data pad.

Okay. Make that a few good pictures of Sleeping Beauty, and this time? She's ready to catch as many facial expressions as she can in case the flash does the wakes-him-up part for her and he winds up making a bunch of expressions. Should that happen, he'll be greeted by a small onslaught of flashes as she puts her device to work for her, after which she is sure to promptly stick her face into the screen to observe her handiwork. And if it doesn't, well... she's still got pictures to observe and lets out an emphatic: ]

Hmmmmm! [ -- as she observes her handiwork. (Maybe she should get an actual camera...?) ]

[moondrank]

(unfortunately for them, dan heng's gloved hand swats at some sort of invisible person in response to the sound of flashes from the data pad and he slowly lifts his head from the library table. he almost surely did not get that much sleep, but he's not thinking about that. he came there to figure out what he's getting himself into now, as a nameless it makes sense for those on the path of the trailblaze to carry on into the unknown. he's only one of the few that were on said journey, but the astral express is not here.

and the theorem by no means is the train itself, which means making do with the many differences between them. plus maybe him slightly missing the others already can be considered something for another time. he might get to see the rest of the express at another date whenever he blinks slowly. teal eyes land on this stranger as the tiredness gets wiped away. he really did work well into the night documenting odds and ends for himself, it was useful. helped him not focus on his vision having had become black and white without some manner of noises.)

Did you need the table? (he's used to being photographed in various moments, some embarrassing, from how unfazed he is. march would have done the same, amusingly. taken the chance to make some manner of more permanent memories by recording dan heng being a sleeping beauty in the library. that might be why he didn't bother to assume he could ask for those to be deleted. because if she's like march any, the answer could be a "no".) Or should I assume that you came for something else that wasn't just taking pictures of me?

(never mind that he's grateful his horns didn't get caught on the textbooks from how he slept. better to get to the point, he needed to wake up more and getting an actual cup of coffee again can come later.)

🌟wildcard

[stellerly]

[ A child of the digital age, Stelle realizes she feels much more at home aboard the Theorem than many. She can't really blame them, she's been to plenty of planets that haven't had any sort of inter-planetary travel in ages, and even if they do, it doesn't mean it's accessible to everyone. But there's a familiarity in being back on board, even if it's lacking the plush comforts and terrible pun-wielding bar tenders she associates with her favored form of space travel...

All of this to say, Stelle is, more often than not, staring at her datapad in her downtime. And often when she is not supposed to be in downtime. And that is when she realizes, there are some new names in her contacts.

One in particular is extremely relevant to her interests.

She's not sure how long he's been on board, or where he could be, and rather than giving him a call or figuring out the intercom system, she sets off on foot to find him.

What's the usual advice for lost children? Stay in one place so you're easier to be found? Maybe Stelle should have taken that to heart, as she rounds yet another corner, and walks face first into a familiar chest.

Her yelp is extremely dignified as she jumps back, holding her nose, and looks up. And Up. ]

Dan Heng! I found you!!!

[ If it sounds a little nasally it's because she's still holding her nose, eyes watery, pure joy visible where her hand isn't hiding her face. ]

[moondrank]

(at the time, it's all disorienting. his vision when he opened his eyes had become a flood of black and white that only filled whenever the hosts had begun to speak to him. about something or other, briefings, mentions of their upcoming journey and the purpose of this. he's a bit out of it, his head aching and his eyes needing time to get used to the shift of scenery. like the old cartoons that mr. yang would teach them about, it's a bit unsettling to say the least.

he didn't expect that to happen. the notes he hears and the music of them has a taste he can't put his finger on as they fill his vision with color again that should have been there.

there's no use talking about his affliction, probably. he has a feeling it might just earn him more trouble before dan heng opts to get a look around. he should at least memorize the ship layout, shouldn't he? which is why he's taking the chance to take what belongings they gave him, everything that he'd need as a member of support, and leaving once he had been granted permission. there were mentions that he should also be prepared for later in the day, during the evening. for what, he can't quite say, but he has enough to think about and worry about.

if he's there, would everyone be okay? what about march, or even stelle?

though what he did not realize is that it seems part of his worries were misplaced, he wasn't alone. not on the theorem, he wouldn't be alone when he turned the corner to make his way toward the dorms. he'd need to get a room picked out on board the theorem before bothering to find a ship as had been mentioned to him earlier. picking out one should be easy, flying one will take time and practice from what he's thinking.

the thoughts of course are cut short, the familiar sight of this golden eyed woman not only gave dan heng pause, but relief. her voice fills the world with color again, the lilt of it tasting sweet and warm. he can't put his finger on the taste fully, though, but just enough to realize it matched directly to her.)

Stelle. (thank the aeons, he wants to say, but if she's here....does that mean she was here first?) Sorry also, it seems like I can't use Cloudhymn Magic like before.

(he'll be tall and imposing for a good chunk of this, but they both know that doesn't matter as his tail tries not to sway about and betray him in his relief.)

take the journey

[theroadpaved]

[...that is the same guy from last night.

Castiel glances at the man facedown on a nearby table, squinting just to be sure. They'd met eyes just once last night as they perused the shelves, nodded at each other, and ignored one another for the rest of the evening. Castiel had left with some materials before anyone else.

Now he's back in the morning to swap some things out, check out some of the older scripts that aren't permitted to leave the room, and that guy is still here only he's asleep on the table. Oh boy. He might be new to mortality. He probably doesn't even know about back pain yet.

Castiel comes over and gently taps a book on the tabletop.] Be careful sitting back up.

a breather - shows up late with coffee ;-; reaches for dan heng WITH THE BIG TAIL!!

[weekending]

[ Sunday (dressed in suitable attire, of course) has only recently regained his Tuning, and while ordinarily he would find it a welcome reprieve from the Silence he has been living in these past months, he's found the adjustment to be a bit much. Or perhaps it's not so much the adjustment as it is the way it keeps feeling ... wrong. Ordinarily, he perceives emotion and intent in a way more akin to hearing than anything - like so many vibrations across his halo. But lately they come in burst of color, tinting a person or the air around them or even his entire vision if they're close and strong enough. And in a crowd, even trying to ignore his senses and tune it out the way one would so much background noise, it's a bit much. Likewise, the vibrant sights have set his halo abuzz in a way that's overwhelming and uncomfortable and difficult to make sense of.

He's not sure whether to chalk it up to some weird crossed-wire synesthesia-like side-effect of of the whole process of having a long deprived piece of himself restored or if it's related to the ebb and flow of other strange but noticeable sensory effects he and other wayfarers have experienced since arriving. But regardless, it has given him a bit of a headache, and so Sunday sought a quiet place to sit.

Thus, Dan Heng finds him on a bench, eyes closed with wings covering them, his head lent back against the wall behind, and faintly glowing halo in his lap. It's not until Dan Heng speaks that Sunday even seems to register his presence with confusion because he knows that voice. But surely it couldn't be...

Sunday opens his eyes and moves his wings aside as he looks over-- ]

Dan Heng...?

[ --and nearly drops his halo as he does a double take, realizing that Dan Heng is not as Sunday last saw him but rather as he remembers seeing him briefly in Amphoreus. How... unexpected! His wings puff up in surprise then flap as he smiles. ]

Ah! It's good to see you, again.