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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[ She lies. But she does lose some of the attitude when he stops, the slight tremble in her hands more evident as she wraps her arms around herself. It helps. It's not enough, but it helps. ]
Asa... Asa Mitaka. Either is fine. [ She stares at him in silence for a few seconds, eyes narrow, trying to figure something out. ] How are you just okay with all of this? Aren't you scared?
no subject
I'm good at pretending I don't give a shit.
[His own honesty surprises him, but he doesn't take it back — just lifts one hand, casual, and offers it out.]
Asa, name's Cain. We can shake on it.
no subject
She smiles faintly as she takes his hand. ]
That's a weird name. [ Girl. She looks out the window, at the fish "swimming" outside again, and starts to intone what she'd heard from the Hosts in a complete monotone, like the world's worst tour guide: ] Apparently, they're called x'enuda. It means "fly" and "cunning prey" in the local language.
I guess the closest comparison on Earth would be a flying fish. Those can't actually fly, though, just glide really far. If you're wondering, their scientific name means "sleeping outside". People used to think they left the water to sleep on land. [ nobody asked ]
no subject
Look at that, you know your shit. [How did she even learn? Maybe one of the robots. Cain's avoided them, distrusting of technology he doesn't understand.] X'enuda. They're pretty cool. I've never seen anything like it — never seen a fish outside a grimy fish tank if it wasn't to eat.
[The handshake naturally becomes more of a handhold as he shifts his grip, fingers curling over the side of her smaller hand.]
If they're called prey, you think there's a natural predator?
i'm so sorry
But this guy gets it. Sure, he has a weird name, and he was a little standoffish at first, but that's okay! They have shared values! Maybe he's just shy? She's shy too, but she can be forward if it means bringing someone else out of their shell. It's usually the guy who does that, but traditional gender roles are stupid anyway.
Hopefully Cain isn't bothered by her zoning out for a solid ten seconds as the above thoughts flash through her mind. Outwardly, all she does is stare down at their linked hands while blushing. She can already feel herself writing a poem about this later... ]
M-maybe? [ Pull it together, Asa! Impress him! ] Flying fish are fairly low on the food chain. Most fish that swarm together like this are. It's basically a way to increase each individual's chance of survival. Safety in numbers. Or, more, bluntly, "better you than me".
I'm sure we'd be fine, though. Most predators aren't indiscriminate. If they eat fish, they probably wouldn't want to eat us.
i love her so much.......
Anyway, uh, that's a lot of fish talk.]
Damn. You on the Research Division or something?
[It's easy to impress a guy who dropped out of school...]
Bet you're excited to see what we're going to find on the new planet, huh. Unless it's dangerous. In that case, Security will take care of it. [He jabs a thumb at his own chest—] That's what I am.
wrong......
[ It seems like a natural fit, but she knows Yoru will be insufferable about wanting to get her hands on a weapon. Then again, why does she care what Yoru thinks? The War Devil never considers her feelings.
She looks at Cain — at his posturing, his build, his overall attitude, and nods. ]
Yeah, you seem like the Security type. [ . . . ] Um, what I meant was... you look like you've used a gun before. It's a compliment.
[ The best compliments are the ones you have to explain. (Also, no. She was absolutely calling him a meathead.) ]
i don't want to be right.....
Yeah, I definitely have. Kinda weird they're just letting us pick, though. What if someone gets a gun and doesn't even know how to use it? Could be dangerous.
[Anyway, aware their hands are still joined, his fingers flex their grip for a more comfortable hold. It's almost distracting, given this isn't a form of physical affection he does... ever, and to those passing by, it probably looks pretty romantic. But she hasn't let go, and he doesn't mind it. What's the harm?]
I heard Support is flexible if you can't pick. Or there's the nerdy options, that might be more your thing. [She knew a lot about the fish, at least.] First time in space?
no subject
You're bad at talking to girls.
[ Okay? You're bad at talking to everyone, Asa. She continues on, like she didn't randomly say something rude just now. ]
Yeah. It's my first time seeing a gun in person, too. They're restricted back home. [ Like, "have to ask for permission for every bullet fired" level restricted. ] I was a little kid when it happened, so I don't remember much, but they passed a bunch of laws after the Gun Devil attacked.
Devils get stronger the more people fear their name, so you can imagine what a big deal that was. It killed over a million people in just a few minutes. ... When I saw the Security equipment, that was the first thing I thought of. I don't know if I could even bring myself to use one.
no subject
Though the topic turns, and he's now more concerned with the rest of what she says, nonsensical as it is.]
Restricted? [He assesses her with dark eyes, not because he's doubting this story about "devils", but because it's just an absurd thing to swallow. It sounds almost equivalent to an alien invasion, but the Colterons never made it past Mars. Never killed that many civilians.] Is this like Godzilla?
[Earth has a lot of issues in other people's universes/timelines/whatever-the-hell, Cain's realizing.]
You don't have to if you don't want. Plenty of other jobs that people gotta do around here. But if you decide you wanna try, I can show you how to use the gun. [...] How old are you, anyway?
no subject
It's not "like" anything. It's reality.
[ God forbid a guy tries to draw a point of comparison, jesus christ.
She meets his gaze with all the arrogance of a teenager who thinks she knows better than everyone else, adults included. ]
I'm seventeen. [ Which she rushes to follow up with: ] But I'm mature for my age. Not some kid. I've been living alone for almost a year now. [ She thinks of throwing in and I don't need a gun to defend myself... but without her powers, without Yoru, she kind of does. ] ... You're acting like it's hard. You just — point it and pull the trigger, right?
[ It's almost a genuine question as much as a statement. Guns aren't ubiquitous in entertainment; only foreign (read: American) films usually have them. ]
no subject
It's familiar, like the ache of a new unnoticed bruise. And for a second he doesn't even know what to do with that, because he's a shitty person, so maybe he should let the girl's hand go and walk away. Maybe she'd never talk to him again.]
It is hard. Aiming on its own takes a kind of skill you can't fake, and then you gotta consider the type of weapon it is. How it's put together. How the bullets are designed. There's range, too, and whether or not your target's moving.
[Instead he corrects the part that really matters.]
Wasn't much younger than you when I got my first gun and started practicing with it. So, if you decide you want to join me over at Security, I'll teach you how to use one. But take it seriously.
no subject
... It's so weird to have that thought and not hear her own voice yelling in her head about how she's "not stupid!" and "you wouldn't understand half of it, girl!" (She definitely doesn't miss the incessant commentary. Don't get the wrong idea. Silence is just strange after weeks of mental tinnitus, that's all.) ]
I'll think about it.
[ She does mean it, despite the dismissive phrasing. It's a lot to take in; she figured (hoped) she'd get through her whole life without even seeing a gun in person, much less using one. But his offer is kind, his voice patient, his hand warm... and that's the problem.
Asa looks down at their hands. Without warning, her expression changes into something bordering on disdain. Stupid. She got so caught up in the moment, she almost forgot: nobody is ever just "nice" to Asa Mitaka. Either they're gearing up to humiliate her, secretly a devil, or Denji, and she doesn't think Cain is one of the last two. He's not blonde, for starters. ]
Hey. If you're going to suddenly turn into a creep, can you get on with it? Just so you know, I'm not that type of girl. There's probably some slutty bimbo out there just waiting for a big strong man [ (derogatory) (trying not to think about how much she also likes that) ] to teach her.
no subject
Hey yourself. Aren't you the one who asked to hold my hand?
[Notably, he has not released hers, though his grip tightens to a degree that will be felt — a bit petty as it is. Maybe he should be the more mature one.]
I'm not interested in kids.
no subject
... It does mean she's holding hands with a sex-haver, which is gross, but she can wash it later. ]
Okay. [ She says. Just "okay". like it's a full sentence and not just the start of one. (She forgoes the usual "not a kid" protest, because in this singular case, she appreciates the distinction.) Then, like she never said anything weird: ]
Teach me how to fly one of these ships too. [ ... ] Also, you can let go now. Thanks.
no subject
Still, assured that the boundary was drawn, he just shrugs.]
Now you're getting bossy. [But a 'thanks' is enough for him to release his grip, leaving her hand cold but free of his touch.] I'll think about it.
[Hah.]
Scram, then. I'm gonna smoke.
no subject
Instead of walking away, she uses her now-free hand to point at him accusingly. Time for the anti-smoking campaign... ]
That's disgusting. Did you know each cigarette reduces your life expectancy by twenty minutes? Smoking isn't as destructive as drinking, but any addiction is bad. You should quit, Cain.
[ "You should quit."
no subject
Then it's a good thing I drink, too. How many minutes does that shave off?
[smug cat face]
I think it's worth the risk. You ever been drunk before, or is that too mature for you?
[Don't peer pressure teenagers...........]
no subject
[ It strikes without warning. Her mother's voice: "Asa! Stay in the bathroom!" Her father shouting something, slurred and indistinguishable. The muffled but unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh. Too deeply repressed a memory for her to hold onto for longer than a second, but more than enough for the bile to rise in her throat.
Asa's hand curls into a fist and drops to her side with a faint tremble. Her attitude changes — still annoyed and haughty, but with a bitterness that wasn't there before. ]
I thought you were a decent guy, but you're actually just a pig. Stay away from me.
[ Cain can have his wish to be left alone, because she storms off without waiting for his answer. ]
i wanted to 🎀 this
It's not often he's left speechless, but she hardly gives him any time to defend himself as she storms off. Put "goodie two shoes" next to "prissy", then. Not the first time he's been insulted, but when it doesn't even feel like he actually did anything — okay, rude?
Cain fishes out the pack of cigarettes he got from Izaya, feeling like he needs it now.]