TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire

[lamentus]

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!"

REFLECT

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.

IMBIBE

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?

RED BUFFALO SHANK WITH SPIKED LOTUS

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.

UPSIDE-DOWN PLUM SPARK-WINE

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.

GOLDEN BUNS WITH SPICED HONEY DRIZZLE

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.

CHERRY COLA!™

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.

A CAKE. MAYBE.

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.

INITIATE

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.

FOREWORD

"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.

(CODE)

Comments

asa mitaka | chainsaw man

[warhawks]

imbibe | (cw emeto)

[ Trying to enjoy your meal in peace? Too bad, because there's a commotion in the mess hall, the cause of which seems to be... an ordinary looking teenage girl. ]

Excuse me? Is this some kind of alcohol? [ Asa says, loud and accusatory, staring daggers into the poor host who offered the spark-wine to her. ] First of all, I'm underage. Second of all, alcohol rots your brain. It also damages your liver, gives you stomach ulcers, and it poisons you. You basically just tried to kill me. [ She sniffs. ] I'm tipping this out.

[ Which she does. Right on the ground. When she's done, she grabs the next one and starts tipping that out too. And then the next. If she sees someone looking, she'll meet their gaze with an expression that dares them to say something.

A short time later, Asa stares down at the... "cake", with an expression of unmitigated disgust. The fish head stares back up, with an expression of not much at all.

Suddenly, in this mundane moment among the stars, it catches up to her. The journey here. The reality of it all. How far she is from everything and everyone she's ever known. Sure, she hated almost all of it and all of them, but that doesn't mean she wanted to be thrust into a whole new life without asking... again. ]

Oh my god. I think I'm gonna be sick... [ Is the only warning, before she vomits on the shoes of the person nearest to her. Hello to you, too. ]

initiate

[ She touches the fish.

It's not even that she wants to. She finds herself reaching out without thinking, because fish are pretty when they're alive, and these ones are floating, and when will she get a chance like this again? She's cynical and bitter, but even she isn't immune to beauty, especially in nature.

Suddenly, she feels desperate for company. That part isn't particularly new for her. What is new is that she takes a deep breath, turns to the person closest to her, and asks: ]

Can I — hold your hand for a minute? Sorry. I know this is weird.

theorumnet | un: crambon

I want to go home.

[ ooc | or wildcard me! here are her info and permissions; i'm undecided on her exact canonpoint, but probably chapter 114-ish, during the aquarium arc. feel free to use prose or brackets, i'll match. ]

imbibe but pre-puke

[bombdevil]

[ Reze says nothing, at least not at first. She watches the other girl enact her vigilante justice with an expression that is mostly neutral. In the back of her mind she thinks that the whole thing is stupid and wasteful.

She doesn't say anything but she reaches out to grab the flute of wine that looks to be the other girl's next victim. ]

Aren't you a buzzy bee.

[ Buzz, bee, you get it? Hilarious.

Reze lifts her glass and tips it in her companion's direction. ]

To your health.

[ She says it in Russian and empties half her class shuddering from the tingle of bubbles going down her throat. ]

[warhawks]

It's "busy" bee.

[ The joke



Asa's head. All she thinks is watching Reze drink is, "Wow. This girl is stupid." ]

You can't be much older than me... you know underage drinking is illegal, right? You're committing a crime.

[bombdevil]

[ If Asa would deign to take a sip, she'd know the sentiment is mutual. She doesn't take any offense- she's been called worse and certainly done worse. ]

Where I'm from you can drink at 16.

[ Reze finishes her glass and smiles, pleasant. ]

Not sure if you know but we're not on Earth anymore, either.

[ At least that's where she assumes this girl is from. ]

initiate

[blyat]

[They don't need to tell him to check out the windows. Cain is already there, soon as the Hosts free them after the launch, his eyes studying the moon's red ocean below. Then he sees the x'enuda, although he doesn't know that's what they're called — and as soon as those ghostly, blue shapes come near enough, he's stepping back to avoid their path.

Others touch them. It doesn't seem like anything happens, but Cain is cautious as he navigates down the hall, parallel to the viewing area. Somewhere past it is when the girl stops him. He turns toward her, brow hiked in an expression of neutral interest, fairly unbothered by the request.]

Kinda weird. Why me?

[warhawks]

[ Why him? Because he's here. Because she's here. Because they're both here, and that's good enough.

Asa exhales, expression annoyed despite the faint red dusting her cheeks. She's embarrassed, and when she's embarrassed, she gets mean(er). ]

Look, if you don't want to, just say so. You wouldn't be my first choice.

[blyat]

[She looks young, at least younger than him — so maybe he should ease up a little in light of visible irritation. Plus, the view's nice enough from the windows to have cooled his nerves from earlier, even if he's still avoiding the fish.]

Hey, I'm not saying no. Relax.

[With a quiet tch, he turns, hooking the jacket he's carrying over one shoulder.]

You got a name?

un: unitA2

[abandonware]

too bad. there's a mission.

[warhawks]

Okay. Is the mission to be a huge jerk?

[abandonware]

no. it's to find something.

[She knows the girl is being sarcastic but she is going to pretend she doesn't notice.]

no point in complaining.

un: magnificence

[the_ego_has_landed]

Unfortunately I don't not believe that to be an option at present. As our hosts have said, we have been pulled to another universe and there seems to be little reason to doubt them on that particular point. Especially as I am quite good at interstellar navigation and yet do not recognize any of the stars outside.

The only thing we can do is cooperate for the time being and look for an opportunity to return.

[warhawks]

[ Asa's first thought when she sees the username magnificence is "Wow. Ego, much?" But she's already gotten in at least one fight today, and she's not looking for another.

At least not intentionally. ]

I KNOW that. I'm just...
I don't know what I'm doing.

[ Shouting into the very public void, apparently. ]

Interstellar navigation... you're an astronaut? [ Even as she types it, she knows it's not right. But it's the closest point of reference she has. Sci-fi was never her thing. ]

[the_ego_has_landed]

Very few do, I'm afraid. Even I find myself struggling a bit in the absence of my compatriots, and I believed myself to be long used to such situations as this.

As for the astronaut question? Not as such, no. My people are a race of mechanical beings from a planet known as Cybertron. One of our many abilities as a species is transform ourselves into alternate forms.

Largely vehicles, although there are those whose altmodes resemble animals, weapons, and even a rare few who take the forms of bases or cities. I myself transform into a spacecraft. Though its appearance resembles a mere Earth Space Shuttle, if you are familiar with such things, I am capable of interstellar flight.

Or I would be, had my arrival here not significantly reduced my magnificent form in size.

imbibe but post-puke | cw: emeto

[weekending]

[ Hearing her words - even in such a queasy tone - Sunday assumes the girl is being hyperbolic; he turns a little with a faint smile to reassure her that it's not that bad. ]

It doesn't--

[ That's about as far as he gets before it becomes effusively apparent how literally she meant it -- and Sunday is very nearly sick himself immediately after as he both watches and sees the warm vomit splash all over his shoes. His smile freezes in place. A shudder goes up his spine and through his wings, which puff up, every single feather raised in grossed out alarm.

(This is far, far from the worst thing that has ever happened to him, but in this split second it sure feels like it. He will be feeling the wet warmth and smelling the acrid scent forever - he will never be clean again - he will have to burn these boots and possibly his trousers and his coat if any splashed on them because the memory will be imbued in them forever. His thoughts are, of course, ridiculous, and he will in actuality do no such thing, but he certainly wants to.) ]

--Ah. You... really meant it.

[ Still, worry quickly overtakes his initial shock and disgust, and Sunday's rictus smile melts into a frown as he peers at the girl in sympathetic concern. 'Are you all right?' is a stupid question when she's just been sick and obviously the answer is 'no' but -- it's been a long day, and at least half of his brain is occupied with trying to ignore the horrific sensation of warm vomit on his shoes. At the very least, whether and how she responds will determine if his first priority ought to be getting her back to the medbay... ]

Are you all right?

[warhawks]

I-I'm fine!

[ Said with the trembling voice and pale, sweaty face of someone who is very much not fine... but she at least doesn't look like she's about to start Vomiting 2: Electric Boogaloo. The offending cake clatters to the ground, sending even more unwanted colourful miscellanea in Sunday's direction.

Asa wipes her mouth and lifts her eyes, and if she wasn't as white as a ghost before, she definitely is now, after seeing the mess she's made. ]

Oh my god, [ she says again, with even more alarm than before, ] Your clothes—! I'm so sorry!

[ There's no way in a million years she can afford to replace any of those. Also, she just threw up on a complete stranger, and he's absolutely going to hate her. Sure, he's asking if she's alright, but he's not really concerned. Probably just putting on an act to look good before he starts yelling at her. Even for someone as bad at first impressions as her, this has to be a new low. ]

imbibe

[imhilarious]

[ What's this world coming to? Teens who are sticks in the mud? Yeah, yeah, everyone's choice is their choice, whatever. Dean just can't imagine being like that about it when he was a youth.

Case in point: ]

Dude, you're just givin' the alcohol highlight reel when you say all that.

[ Don't listen to him, don't take any life advice from him. This is the wisdom he's full of. ]

[warhawks]

[ She fixes him with a glare that could peel paint. ]

And? People like you are why it's necessary. [ Oh, she's full of assumptions just from looking at him. None of them are good. ] You're probably already dealing with some of the side effects.

un: shadowhunter

[oracledriven]

you and me both
this whole thing just started and i'm already tired of feeling out of my depth

[warhawks]

Finally. Someone normal.
I feel like I'm still waiting to wake up. I know it's not going to happen, though.

Why me? Why any of us? "Quantum accident"? Don't give me that crap!

>> Imbibe; big brother instincts activate!

[justamobster]

[ Honestly, Ladon's happy to let the mouthy teenage girl go off about the sins of alcohol and pour out the spark wine. It's not his alcohol, nor is it particularly appealing. Were it a good scotch, he might intervene. But this coffin polish isn't worth saving, let her have her fun.

He's not so sure about the decision to eat the cake, though.

And wouldn't you know it, now she's yakking up on the poor sap next to her. At that point, his stupid protective nature kicks in and he finally goes over, bringing her a handkerchief and making sure she doesn't fall over or hurt herself. ]

Whoa, whoa, slow down there, kiddo. You all right?

[warhawks]

I'm not a kid.

[ She says, which is the #1 thing every kid says when they're defensive about being a kid. Asa waves off the handkerchief at first, then thinks better of it and grabs it to wipe her mouth. Sometimes you have to pick your battles, and when you've just emptied the meager contents of your stomach, even a small kindness feels good.

After a few moments spent steadying herself, and making sure there's no round two on the way, she looks up to see who she's humiliated herself in front of this time. ]

I'm fine. [ With unmistakable guilt in her voice, she folds over the handkerchief to try and hide the mess: ] ... Thanks. Um, I hope this wasn't too important. I'll clean it before I give it back.

[ The fact it's just a handkerchief is irrelevant: her most precious possession for years was the school uniform her mother bought her. Sentiment matters. ]

initiate;

[asternal]

[ It's such a simple gesture that he'd like nothing more than to be able to say "yes, of course" to, wholeheartedly. ]

There's no need to apologize. Believe me, I'd love to.

[ He shoots her an apologetic smile and holds up a hand, the edges of his fingertips flickering in the air just like candles. The rest of him is mostly solid with a touch of hazy, the wispy flames making up his body weak enough to only prove a match to a space heater of all things, yet strong enough to hold him together in the first place. ]

You'd probably prefer someone more... [ A moment of hesitation as he fishes (hah) for the right word. ] ...corporeal, though.

[warhawks]

[ Asa stares.

Blinks.

Raises a shaking hand to point at him. ]

Holy crap. You're a ghost.

un: ward

[coherer]

If you could catch a wormhole out of here and wind up back wherever you're from, what would you do first?
Like the second you touched down

[warhawks]

[ Good question! A shame she doesn't have a good answer. What she does have is needless defensiveness. ]

Why do you want to know? Weirdo.