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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
Normally, his smooth, polite veneer is nigh unshakable. It gets tested daily by his General's shenanigans and Moze's regular baffling social choices. But ever since being kidnapped, his unruffled feathers are far more ruffled than usual, leaving him more easily irritated, more prone to taking offense. Yes, he is aware that it's a classic trauma response, both from the attack and losing a major sense, but he's a healer, surely he should know how to recover from these things more quickly?
Luckily, what his company says next is more than a little distracting.
Jiaoqiu's eyebrows furrow above his blindfold. ]
Sorry, are you telling me that you were decapitated?
[ By an arrow, no less! That's an impressive feat! ]
But now you are standing here before me, head firmly attached to your shoulders? I... can only assume?
[ For all he knows, the man's carrying his own head in his arms, like those ghost story immersias. The voice is coming from about head height, though. ]
no subject
obviously there's something that sticks out if he wandered around with his neck exposed, but he isn't the sort to alarm people by exposing something like this. his body mostly being burnt aside, he's quietly mulling this over.
there likely is something he can say.)
It's difficult to explain, I am dead, but I'm also not any longer while here seems like. My head is still firmly attached.
(that's the best he can take it, he'll give him the proper explanation when jiaoqiu feels better. karna doesn't want to overload a man who is struggling in his own way with losing his vision, much less whatever other things are on his mind while they're speaking together. but that doesn't mean he should also keep the other man in ignorance before his attention falls back on the nebula.
thoughtful, it reminds him again of the beauty of the stars. it reminds him briefly of how he and others would offer prayers to the gods, how he once called the people he cherished brighter than the sun's rays while apologizing to the brahamin before him for speaking such sacrilege against his father, surya, who he never knew.)
But I've noticed that I cannot access some things I'm used to having. For example, I can detect when someone is lying, usually. It's a skill that I obtained throughout my youth by questioning my elders about stories or memories they had. I'm still able to read people, but finding lies seems to be off the table....for now, anyway.
(he doesn't need his discernment to do that necessarily, but it would take him time. it's almost an amusing handicap. his mana did still seem to be there, the warmth radiating from him and everything, but it seems inaccessible in itself too. odd. though he muses it could be worse, he can at least provide heat for people that were in need of it.
....even if that's an odder idea of a man like him sitting beside someone for them to warm up.)
no subject
[ His enhances senses, for one. Everything sounds and smells so muffled, like he is experiencing life through a thick wrap of stifling wool. It's made coping with his blindness exponentially harder -- he supposes that's why the Hosts offered him the earpiece he's using, to describe his surroundings for him. It hasn't proven particularly useful at details, though.
Case in point: all it can come up with to describe the man next to him is humanoid, 178 centimeters tall. How useful. He knows everybody's height, but nothing about their looks. ]
I can't say that I was dead before I came here, though.
[ His tone is dry, and more than a little bit fascinated. He has access to the best medical technology and magic, yet nothing he's ever seen would allow a person to recover from being fully decapitated.
He holds out a hand with a flourish, snapping his fingers, but nothing happens. ]
Normally I can control and produce fire. But here, nothing. Not even a single spark.
no subject
(that makes two of them, he thinks to himself. his own abilities were the same. using fire, the sun itself, to unleash a fury upon those who were unfortunate to be faced with him. he isn't particularly hurried to explain more about himself, servants are interesting in that regard about their life and death. the number of them that died horrifically is not something to overlook or ignore. karna is only among those that did lose his life so terribly. what a man he is, a foolish man.
a foolish demi-god. he's tall, he's lanky, but the slimness of his build doesn't show entirely that he's got muscle to him. strong arms and legs, an inquisitive nature, while also deciding for his part he can explain more.)
We are the same in that, my mana is like living fire. Any strikes I did would unleash that flame, it's a part of me in that I'm like an eternal flame. I can feel it, but I also cannot use it....so I suppose that I have the role of a walking space heater, as they're called now for anything cold.
(it was a poor attempt at a joke, his deadpan tone doesn't help that. how he's often so calm and cold, despite being warm to the touch. his jokes were never considered "good", but he finds that bad humor isn't necessarily a terrible thing to others. he doesn't say them out of malicious intent, after all. karna only decided something at his own expense was worth the trouble of making this slightly amusing for the other party.
though that caused him to cross his arms, his burnt fingers tapping along the elbow of one in thought. it was strange, he's alive again, but they took away his ability to use mana and his discernment?)
I'd also say that I don't suggest trying death, it gets a little too quiet.
(....another bad joke, at his own expense, again.)
no subject
He can hear fingers tapping against skin; perhaps his conversational companion is uneasy. Jiaoqiu can hardly blame him.
And then comes-- whatever that was. A joke? An incredibly morbid joke, when Jiaoqiu is still trying to picture how on earth one gets decapitated by an arrow? (With incredible force, presumably?) He puts his face in his hand, despairing. ]
I'll take your words under advisement.
[ And then: ]
I must have forgotten my manners: I am Jiaoqiu, of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, though I suspect that will mean nothing to you. [ Though he has met a few people from his universe who did indeed know exactly what he meant, the majority of people that he's met have been from different universes entirely. Universes where the denizens of Abundance aren't a plague on the cosmos, and the Yaoqing and the Xianzhou Alliance doesn't need to exist to wage eternal war against them. ] May I have the honor of knowing your name?
[ He's maybe laying it on a bit thicker than usual; but politeness wins many battles, and he doesn't know how many he'll have to wage here. ]
no subject
the hero of charity, hero of benediction.
the very same who made a terrible joke about his own death, and while he notes the way jiaoqiu seemingly did not enjoy that one....it is only then that he finally after this brief pause speaks his name and that is:)
Karna. I am doubtful I will run into anyone else from my world in particular, but that is my name.
(he notes the shift in jiaoqiu's tone, laying it on thick. he didn't need to, is something karna wants to say. despite his inability to read into the true nature of others, he believes from their words and how jiaoqiu himself stands that this man is by no means evil or a terrible person. he's simply a man that was dealing with his own struggles. this is something he's used to doing, personally. battles of words are better left to those skilled in them. karna is by no means skilled, his own abilities lie in war itself.) Xianzhou Yaoqing? (were it not for the difference in naming, he might have thought the other man said "yan qing", he knows one named that. he was an odd man.)
Mm, my own home, my birthplace is called India. A country on Earth.
(though his own is different, his own version. servants exist, people capable of superhuman feats as warriors themselves, legends. heroes. there was a big distinction in being contracted by a master to fight in grail wars, but karna hardly cared for wishes. his own has been long since fulfilled, what he wanted most was to use his lives as opportunity.
that opportunity was to fight those who were stronger than him, if not equal to him.)
no subject
[ Hardly surprising-- there are many thousands of known occupied planets in his universe, and they aren't his area of academic expertise. Still, he doubts Karna is from the Earth in his universe. If they had discovered technology or magic to revive a man from being decapitated, surely it would be known about in the wider universe.
For the question, he explains: ]
The Yaoqing is a spacefaring city-ship, one that holds a population of millions. As part of the Xianzhou Alliance, we fight against a plague on the universe: the near-immortal creatures of a particular god.
[ So, the Theorem is somewhat familiar to him in terms of technology, though it is significantly smaller than the Yaoqing. Also, it does not seem to be locked in eternal battle, merely on a mission of exploration. Honestly, Jiaoqiu doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not constantly under threat of attack. ]
It makes you wonder-- why us. We seem to come from very different backgrounds; what unites us, that we were both brought here? Or was it truly an accident?
no subject
singularities, too, at the start. they averted the end of the world once, but it did not stay that way, unfortunately. what happened after is what counts as frightening for those who were normal. gone was humanity, except for the select few survivors. they've all lost everything in the destruction of what once had been their history, their home, and their comrades.
but he listens, quiet and frowning to himself. the last time he was around anything futuristic was the mooncell. they didn't fly ships, they also didn't do anything like this cause that they were brought on for. it was simply another war, another place in which they'd fight for the grail.)
It might be answers we won't have for quite some time, if ever. The right people or what they felt right, maybe, could be part of why.
(perhaps if arjuna did find himself here....they might both set aside differences for another cause. another chance at uniting shoulder to shoulder. brothers, together. or perhaps, instead, tragedy awaits. he won't think too much about it before his attention goes back to jiaoqiu.)
It isn't easy to say. But I do intend to do my utmost for the sake of this journey, I'm used to it. Shouldering burdens, fighting for my life, sharing bonds with others despite my own shortcomings.
(sacrificing everything for the sake of comrades. he's died with a smile both times it's happened, a smile on his lips as he accepted his fate. no regrets, no other desire except acceptance for his lost in life. a true comrade, a man who means his word even if it might kill him.)
no subject
[ It could have sounded mocking, but Jiaoqiu mostly just sounds wistful, and heavy.
He's heard words like that before. So many times. Proud declarations of loyalty, to the cause, fierce devotion to shouldering other's burdens. He'd hear these words as a soldier lay recovering on a medical cot, and those words would ring in his ears as he watched that soldier go back to the battlefield and die miserably, their lives cut short in an instant no matter how well he'd nursed them back to health.
Will some of them die on this journey? Will Jiaoqiu have to stand by once more, even more useless than before, no longer able to heal them? ]
Still, that's a curious level of belief in a journey we haven't yet started, and don't yet know the purpose of. Do you believe the Hosts when they say the end of this journey might help bring us home, or do you just... throw your lot in with any mission that comes your way?