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theorememes2025-11-03 08:07 am
TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire
BUFF
Bonded of The Sorrowweld will find that the NPCs are especially friendly to them this month. Seriously, they just keep trying to give you things. It might get annoying.
DEBUFF
For those who are bonded to Tarnished Az-Mehet, you keep seeing shadows out of the corner of your eye on every screen in the ship, even your datapad. Something is lurking.
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!"
When you manage to get your wits about you -- it's a bumpy ride between universes! -- you start to leave the medbay. Starling's Lament has indicated that you are free to explore the ship, and nowhere is off limits to you. As you leave the cool white tones of the medbay behind, a hallway stretches out in front of you. Both sides are transparent, offering a view into the long dark of space beyond. However, unlike deep space, there is currently quite a lot to see.
On the left lays the broad curve of a planet, lush green landmass and white clouds skidding across its surface. Its star is just sinking behind it, lighting up the very edge of its atmosphere in tones of engine-burn orange and ozone blue, as long shadows cast by enormous space elevators creep across the landmasses. Its most eye-catching feature, however, are the hexagonal structures webbed across its surface, connected by fine corridors with all the geometric precision of woven spider's silk. You can just barely see the tiny dots of spaceships flowing around them, docking, embarking, shuttling between them.
"That is the Redline Trading Post." You hear a tiny whisper, and look up to see another robot — a beetleform, this time, with a shiny dotted shell — watching you curiously from its place on the ceiling. In fact, there are a number of other Hosts doing the exact same thing; a snakeform coiled around a barrier rail, a catform with bright yellow eyes peeking around the corner, a chirping droneform hovering some distance down the hallway. They're all fascinated by you. "But we will be departing soon. You will not get to taste the Galactic Snowball Nova-Cream, the shining culinary jewel of Redline. Sorry. I hear it is very tasty."
You look to your right, away from the planet and the Redline post, to gaze out into the depths of space. In the distance, there is a nebula, its gasses lit up in shades of coral pink and deep purple. It is pockmarked with stars both young and old, newborn stellar entities cradled in the depths of its life-making dust. Set against the dark of space, it is a flower in bloom.
It's beautiful, except—
The longer you look at it, the more something nags at the corner of your mind. A memory glances across your thoughts, unbidden. Something you hoped for, maybe; or something you fear. Whatever the memory, as you gaze at the nebula, a small piece of it curls, shaping in response to your memory. It is your face, reflected perfectly. Smiling, or howling in anger, or weeping.
Eventually, the nebula will go back to normal. But for now, it reflects the fears and triumphs of the new Wayfarers, a mirror held up in the darkness of space.
Once you make it into the bulk of the ship, the Hosts inform you that as they have just restocked all essential supplies, they will be throwing a party in your honor, and they hope you will sample the food.
Maybe you're incredibly dubious about this. Maybe you're starving after your long journey. Either way, you find yourself in the mess hall. It's less like a traditional mess hall and more like a park full of food trucks with seating in the middle. The food trucks are bright and eye-catching, Hosts serving huge heaps of food from their interiors, as their signs advertise everything from Earthen Ancient Egyptian food (As Close As We Can Reconstruct It!) to Raxalar Black Stew (New and Improved: Now Free Of Grit!).
Real grass is underfoot, and the picnic-style seating in the middle appears to be real wood. The lighting is a myriad; whimsical string lights strung between the trucks, floating globe lights playfully dancing like fireflies, and the luminescence of a dogform's patterns and a droneform's enormous eyes and a flyform's glittering trail. The Hosts are clearly excited.
And if the food happens to have... some kind of effect?
Well, the Hosts say, that's only to be expected! The attention of an Edict may, for a nano-second, turn toward the start of this voyage, and that's bound to make anything go a little wonky. Also, they've used some ingredients from the local system, and it's only customary there to share some thoughts and ideas and memories when you eat together. How else can you properly get to know each other?
This may or may not look appealing to you depending on your sensibilities, but it does smell incredible. Soft, savory red meat paired with the fragrant, earthy scent of the vegetable. The Red Buffalo is perfectly seared, and if you poke them cautiously, you'll find the spikes are entirely edible, as long as you chew well enough. If Wayfarers eat this, they will find themselves sharing a memory with the nearest person, a vision of the last time they were truly happy.
It seems the Hosts aren't quite sure of the appropriate alcohol content of substances, as this will burn all the way down, chased by a cool, sparkly feeling all the way down one's esophagus. It tastes of sweetly sour plums, and a potential hangover tomorrow morning. Wayfarers that imbibe this alcohol beverage will start overhearing the thoughts of those around them, as if they are perfectly in tune with everyone.
Ah, a perfectly homey looking meal, sweet and savory, gently steaming. These are a must-try for any Wayfarer with a sweet tooth, proudly boasting of the agricultural and apiary skill of a nearby alien culture. The buns are perfectly fluffy, the spiced honey is warming. What's not to love? After eating this, Wayfarers will find themselves and the nearest person sharing a vision of themselves as they might have been had they gone down the worst possible path in their life.
This isn't the Cherry Cola! you may or may not be familiar with, but it's interesting that whatever alien came up with this came up with the same Earth word. Or maybe the Hosts got it from Earth? Either way, it's fizzy, it's sparkly, it makes you feel like you're floating on rainbow bubbles. Upon drinking this, imbibers will telepathically project outward a vision of the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.
Dear god. What is it? Who came up with this? Who is even brave enough to try this? It certainly… has a taste. It… has an appearance. Whether either of these things are good is in the eye of the beholder. Wayfarers adventurous enough to put this in their mouths (or other eating appendages) will find themselves uncontrollably speaking aloud of the thing they long for the most.
Eventually, it comes time to launch.
The Hosts are a blur of activity, some of them packing up more delicate equipment in case of errant gravity waves during initial propulsion, some of them herding the Wayfarers into a seating area reserved specifically for the safety of its occupants during launch, deceleration, and rare turbulence. You are informed that engine flare will be so bright it will rival a star for the next twenty-five hours of engine start-up burn, but you will only need to stay strapped in for half an hour or so.
As the Theorem's enormous engines start cycling, the entire ship seems to hum in melodic song. And after everybody is strapped in, that's when the intensity starts. Gravity seems to want to push everything toward the stern, and Wayfarers are pressed hard against their seats with the inertia. After half an hour, the Hosts cheerily announce that everybody is free to get up and move around — but you might want to stay near a window, as they will be doing a low dive through the nearby planet's second moon's atmosphere, and it will be quite the sight.
Soon enough, the moon becomes visible. It is of unbroken crimson red, though subtle shifting in its surface lets you guess that it's water rather than earth. And then, as the Theorem rolls gently to the side, the view in the windows nearly perfectly split between moon and space, that's when you see them, swimming through the atmosphere.
To call them fish would be inaccurate — they are not in an ocean, or any body of water — and yet, that will be the word that springs to mind for most Wayfarers. Some of them are sleek and small, schooling in packs of shimmering white and ochre. Others are long and pointed, appendages pointed backward to exude a bright pink gas that propels them forward and which trails after them like oil slicks in the air. The locals call them x'enuda, the Hosts tell you, a combination of words that mean to fly and cunning prey.
They swim closer, swarming outside of the window. Some of them swim through, phasing through the shielding and windows alike, to dance gently in the interior of the Theorem, darting to and fro. If any Wayfarers find themselves curious enough to reach out and touch these creatures, they will find themselves similarly phased, capable of passing through matter for the next few minutes before the shared electrical field wears off and returns them to normal corporality. The external shield will catch you if you phase right through the ship's floor, but you may need to swim back up. Others may find themselves suddenly craving company, as if the x'enuda's instinct to remain safe in a school is catching.
"All Wayfarers, please report to the docking bay!"
As you filter into the enormous cavern that makes up the docking bay of the Theorem, you see rows of smaller spacecraft. Some of them are sleek and light, like they'd be as free as a feather during aerial combat, while others are bulky and spacious. Many of them have designs in alien languages on them, or bizarre looking mascots, seemingly for good luck. As the occasional screen informs you, you are free to claim any one of the ships as your own, but first, Starling's Lament would very much like to give a presentation.
Past the rows of ships lays an expansive opening in the side of the Theorem, many stories high and wide, a shimmering forcefield the only thing between you and space. Beyond it, you can see the quickly fading shape of the planet and moons you left behind as the Theorem continues acceleration. It is in front of this that Starling's Lament has set up a large hologram of a star map.
As they start to explain once everyone is gathered, the map currently shows the region of space you are in. It is an enormous quadrant of multiple galaxies, some pinwheeled in shape, some circuler or tube-like. A line arcs across it, heading into what is clearly less-explored space, beyond the area colorfully marked as Alliance territory. Eventually, that line stops at a star, which then magnifies to reveal a six planet system, the second planet from the star circled.
This is your first objective: designation Epsilon-355.
There are many stories of which planets the Last Pilgrim has set foot upon, and yet, nobody has ever verified any of them. This, the Ascendants claim, is the closest match they have found for one of those planets in a scrap of story: a land of golden sand and shimmering glass, where pilgrimages track their way across the Golden Barrens desert. The planet is small and unassuming in the hologram, and the details next to it are scarce: relatively normal gravity, breathable atmosphere. More details will become available as the Theorem gets close enough for in-depth scans.
If there any notes of the Song to be found, they may yet be found in the Last Pilgrim's footprints.
Presentation nearly over, Starling's Lament directs you a series of tables that have neatly assembled packages of gear. Once you have picked your Division, you are welcome to claim the technological tools of its trade. You can also look at the spaceships available to claim, or even just watch out the docking bay door as you leave the planet behind and head deeper into space.
Welcome to the mission, Wayfarer.
noel kreiss | final fantasy xiii
ii—imbibe
iii—foreword
wildcard
[open to anything and everything! feel free to hmu at
imbibe.
There's no way in Hel that fish and cake go together, right? ]
You're going to be shitting bricks for the next ten days, I'm sure of it.
[ Something about fishy frosting just sounds terrible to him. ]
no subject
Speaking from experience? [Oh, my god. Noel. Why. Anyway, in other "Noel, why" responses, unfortunately he continues:] I've had worse. It-- kinda goes together, in a weird way.
[Something about the salt from the fish makes the sweetness a little more bearable... Noel's no expert in food, but weirdly, the combination is interesting.]
no subject
[ Nova, on the other hand, has little room to speak after consuming 'femto flavored ice cream,' which is essentially space radiation poisoning disguised as creamy deliciousness. Nonetheless, he can naturally take that quantity of radiation without difficulty. After all, he's not exactly human but for some reason—he draws the line with fish and cake. ]
So you're just used to eating garbage, huh?
[ They're kind of the same in that department. However, Nova would never admit it. ]
Fine, it's not my stomach in danger here.
no subject
[Said after taking another unflinching bite of the food. Not with judgment either, really; he's not one to talk when it comes to that, spilling opinions as easy as someone might spill a drink. He sounds almost amused, actually, and the corner of his mouth tugs up a bit.
Well. Until the garbage remark.
Much as Noel doesn't really want to talk about himself, would rather focus conversations on a more neutral ground, he bristles a bit.]
I'm used to doing what it takes to survive, [he says bluntly, with a dismissive shrug.] Guess it doesn't scare me as much as some others.
[The thing is, he doesn't know how to tell when being an opinionated brat isn't gonna help a situation.]
no subject
[ Wait, that's—Oh, whatever! Nova is witty to some extent. ]
Are you insinuating I'm scared of some freaky little cake with a stupid fish head on it?
[ Don't take the bait, Nova. Just don't. You're better than this! Don't get goaded into trying that crappy cake. ]
Yeah, whatever. Everyone thinks they're a "survivalist" if they try bizarre foods.
no subject
Whatever snappy remark he might have made, those words still his mind for a moment. Everyone thinks they're a survivalist, huh.]
Didn't realize it was so trendy.
[There's still a sardonic edge to his words, but it's softened a little. Maybe that's not a bad thing, in his mind -- if "survivalist" means more now than it did during his time growing up on Pulse. Maybe that's a good thing.]
no subject
Still, Nova finds it somewhat surprising that he's so disturbed by the cake. ]
When supplies are scarce, people get creative, just like the folks over at Oldfort.
[ He mutters while searching for something else to eat. Maybe he should go for another red buffalo shank? Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea. ]
After growing up in an orphanage, you kind of just get used to dealing with what you've got.
forward.
[ Jayce is still trying to wrap his head around this place while simultaneously attempting not to think about home, the council room, the breaking glass and what it meant. ]
They might have automatic controls. We can check it out? I'm curious too, but I've never actually driven anything before. The city was designed in a way that I never really needed to. [ Jayce had thought about it once, but it fell off the list, forgotten, too many other things on his mind to remember to even attempt it. ] But I doubt they'd offer these things to us if we could, you know, not use them.
[ Right? ]
no subject
Yeah. Sure, let's check it out.
[Maybe this guy is in need of a distraction just as much as he is. Otherwise there's a lot to think about -- too much.]
Fair point. It'd be crazy to trust us with this stuff if they thought we could break it. [He nods at the closest ship, a small thing.] You ever seen anything like this before?
no subject
You'd think. None of this stuff looks like it's even refurbished. [ Jayce runs his fingers over a panel, pulls open cabinets just to look inside. ] I don't think anyone has the funds to make things like this disposable. [ A pause. ] Right?
[ Jayce has seen excessive wealth, but even that had limits and the purse strings had been pulled tight. Getting funding for Hextech in the early days had been a trial every time, and even now, it's hard to keep the investments coming. ] But no. First time seeing anything like this. It's not even something I've dreamed of.
[ Glancing back at the other man, he pauses his exploration. ] You?
no subject
He, too, takes a look around, examining the ship; most of his investigation takes the form of tapping on various panels and objects to see if they're as sturdy as they look. Noel Kreiss is so far out of his depth here, he'd might as well be in an entirely different ocean.
So, in answer to the first question:] Oh. Uh. ...right.
[Money...also is not in his wheelhouse, actually. (Gods, what is? Trying to kill people and failing? Accidentally ending the world? Maybe this place is the universe telling him to expand his knowledge base.) The other question is easier to give an actual answer to, at least.]
Same here, pretty much. Back home, I never saw enough stars to wonder what was up there with them. All of this... it's more than I could ever imagine.
no subject
[ Inside the ship, Jayce has been avoiding the control panels for the most part, partially out of excitement, a little out of caution. He doesn't want to hit anything important, or send the ship into some kind of shut down mode, or worse, get it moving without knowing how to get it to stop. ] If you see anything that looks like a manual, give me a shout.
[ Pulling open another cabinet, he looks around at the supplies stocked in it. None of the labels have anything familiar printed on them. ]
Really? [ Jayce puts a can back and leans around the open door to look at Noel. ] Because there were no stars or you just couldn't see them from where you were? [ It made Jayce think of Zaun, how some people born there never even got to see the sky. ]
Well, with things I don't know, I always start with the things I do. It helps when I feel overwhelmed and you'd be surprised how much you do know once you start looking at it.
imbibe
( this is cope. she's coping.
wherever here might be is a great concern but march is trying to play it cool. she's already gone through five different meltdowns. at this point, she's fairly sure she's here alone and she will need to hang tight until the crew tracks her down. which surely won't take very long! right?
...right?
right! until then, this is all part of the trailblaze! and sampling the cuisine of every new location is her speciality! which is why she, too, has been flitting about collecting a platter holding one of everything.
everything except the spiky soup and the fish-head cake, of course. the fish-head cake that noel just… she makes a face that leaves nothing of her reaction to the imagination.
she really thought only stelle would eat something so horrendous! and act so nonchalant about it! )
No way! That still means it's bad!
( she's a bit curious… but not enough to risk tasting it herself. she turns away, hands cupped over her mouth.
yet she peers at him over her fingers. everything about the cake is cute save for the fish head… )
... What's the frosting like?
no subject
(He has his doubts.)
The expression she makes is way more interesting, though, pulling the subtlest hint of a grin onto his face. He's got that spiky soup on his tray, too, of course -- just waiting for his fork to be free.]
I wouldn't put it that way. [The fact that she's watching him is what makes him take another bite, prominently scooping up some of the fish along with the frosting, skin and all. His eyebrows lift pointedly, as if to say see? it's good! Which is a bit of a stretch, but he's unflinching as he eats it, at least.]
It's...pretty sweet. Weirdly enough? Too sweet on its own. You're probably not gonna buy it, but the fish actually helps. Seriously.
no subject
The way you'd put it can't be trusted! ( does she see a hint of a smile there? that makes him even more untrustworthy!
her eyes go even wider as some fish goes in with the frosting. all she gets from his lifted eyebrows is unspoken pain. maybe even a cry for help. he's probably unaware of it, but she knows. she has a (very legitimate) sense for these things. )
Ouweeegh!
( which isn't what she meant to say, but, )
Fish can't help frosting! That's what the cake is for! Sweets are meant to be sweet and you're encouraging food crimes!
( being vocal about valid concerns is also her speciality. )
Unless... it's the fish talking? Oh no! How do I save you!? ( a shield only helps before the attack hits! she grabs her bottle of cherry cola, struggling in her haste to pop it open before handing it to him with both hands. ) There's still hope, just wash it down in one go! Free yourself of the fish's control!
HELP she's so funny ASHFSD
It's increasingly harder to do that when she very heroically waves a pop bottle in his face.
His mouth hangs open for a moment, the faint hints of a shit-eating grin quickly replaced by baffled surprise. Free yourself of the fish's control? How did his life so quickly come to this point, from where he was before arriving on the ship?
Alright. Fine. He gives in. He can't keep up his own brooding under these conditions -- and snorts with maximum dorkiness in response as he takes a sip from the bottle (and tries not to sputter as the fizz crackles in his throat-- what the hell!!)]
Oh yeah, you've figured it out alright. It's definitely the fish talking. The cake is an insidious mind-control trap, and you've saved me from a grisly fate. My hero.
YAY all in a day's work!
and in heroism, some people might think a jaw drop is a bad sign but no reaction is even worse! once her cure is accepted, she lights up. all is not lost... and his snort is funny! )
How is it? Are you frosting fish free?
( she knows the face of someone experiencing a fizzy drink for the first time but it's okay, the fizz is cleansing. once he's all clear, (proven by him no longer praising that monstrous food(like) concoction!) she offers him a double thumbs up.
then he says the keywords, My hero. immediately, she puffs out her chest and plants her hands proudly on her waist, so obviously preening that. well. she might be sparkling. )
That's right, I'm a great, intergalactic hero! As long as I'm around, no grisly fates shall befall you. Not even from something disguised as cute cake!
( does she think he was joking about being saved? certainly. does it change anything? no! she's a beautiful warrior-hero and she knows it!!
still obviously happy, she grabs a pair of honey-drizzled buns from her platter and offers him one. even though he has his own. yeah. )
Here, I'll share this with you! We should eat good things together!
( sparkling... )
reflect
Whether that means there's something actually out there or they're all tripping balls, who knows. His money is on the former, though.] Did you see your face?
no subject
Long story short:] ...no. Not exactly. More like a big cloud of... nothing, I guess. [He's...rambling, isn't he. He gives the stranger a sidelong glance, and then:] So that's what you saw, I'm guessing?
no subject
no subject
[Wh-- huh????????
... ... ... After a beat:] What d'you think it's trying to say?
no subject
The cloud you saw. Was it familiar?