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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.
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Bigger fish to fry right now anyway. If Cas's powers are "temporarily unavailable," Dean needs to be on Cas watch 24/7 just in case. Well. 20/7, give or take some sleep hours. ]
I mean, yeah. I thought the whole alien planet out the window was a pretty big clue that we're not in Kansas anymore. [ Dean's just being petty to be petty. He takes a little circle around Cas, like he's trying to be the world's least subtle guard dog. Because he is trying to be that. Happy to help. ] But I guess you got a bigger map to reference than the rest of us, huh?
[ Ooh I'm Cas I have a deep fundamental understanding of the formation of the universe because I was there and have been watching it for millions and billions of years. Show-off. ]
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I...stayed mostly in our galactic arm, [he admits with a little bit of shame. Not a lot of wanderlust on this particular angel. He was never all that adventurous until very, very recently, anybody's guess as to why.] So we could possibly still be in the Milky Way. [Which doesn't mean much when the galaxy itself is a hundred thousand light-years in diameter. Even that kind of distance is a little much for a day trip to an angel; ideally they'll make it back to Sam before Dean's bones are the memory of dust.]
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(How can Dean fault him, right? He's been keeping it pretty close to their galactic arm himself.)
Part of him is already losing his mind about it. Sam's not here. There's no knowing for sure if he's okay. But who do you take that to? Who do you threaten to get that fixed? Right now, apparently no one.
He'll find something violent and destructive he can use to channel all that later. For now it can stay in the bottle and stew. ]
So what do you think, kick it to Warp 10? Slingshot around a sun, save the whales?
[ Actually pleaseeeeee can fixing this and going home mean hijacking, going really really fast in space and then slingshotting around the sun please? ]
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Straight-up points at him. ]
You don't know that. [ Even though Dean knows he does know that. ] Don't take this from me.
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What is...Warp 10.
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[ Dean cannot believe this is happening. Seriously. ]
I swear, it's like I'm the only one who's been watchin' the motel TVs. I'm not even-- [ No wait he can't keep yelling about this. He has to step in and be quieter and so, so serious. ] I'm not even a nerd, dude. I'm the guy surrounded by nerds. So how am I the only one who ever gets the reference?
[ How is he the only one who can't help being kind of excited about a space adventure?!
Because he really is a weird nerd in a different flavor, next question. ]
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Does Sam not know what Warp Drive Star Trek is about? [Cas is just gonna go back to picking through the items on the table.]
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He knows what it's about, he just-- hasn't watched as much of it. [ He thinks. It's not like Dean asks him once a month where he's at on the Star Trek train, they kinda have bigger problems. ] Probably wouldn't even get how cool this is.
[ He'd be all like Dean, seriously? You don't think we've got bigger problems to focus on right now? instead of having fun with his big brother's references.
Then again, that would also be reassuring and familiar in this weirdass time. Whatever. Dean's not even upset about it at all, and if he was he wouldn't do it where the public could see.
He picks up a pulse rifle to scope out how user-friendly it is instead. ]
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It's!!!!
Time to influence the worldly perceptions of an angel without losing any toxic masculinity cool points, is what it is. ]
It's cool, alright? It's awesome. When I say nerd I mean I'm not into all that... techno-whiz science crap.
[ But he is if it's part of the thing he's watching. But no he isn't. But he likes Star Trek and Star Wars and Galaxy Quest and space adventures with really big fancy spaceships. Hope that helps. ]
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Dude, shut up and bio-scan.
[ T minus one whole minute before Dean gets excited about playing with Space Toys again. Once he's recovered from being brutally murdered like this. ]
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Points and scans. -oh look, that's neat. That's basically all the info he can get but he just has to use his regular old angel eyes. Amazing what technology can do (what he can do normally) if given like a kajillion years to catch up to what he just can do on his own himself. That he would be able to do now if SOMEONE wasn't suppressing his Grace.]
You really do need to cut back on the saturated fats, Dean. [Your arteries, man... That's it, the minute he gets his powers back, he's giving you (another) angelic detox.]
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Actually, that's kinda better than he would've thought. This is a win for him. ]
Yeah, lemme get right on that after I quit drinking.
[ Fully over here like "see I can make stupid jokes too" about his arteries situation. ]
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Honestly Cas kind of likes this bio-scanner thing. And if he knows more medical things, well, he can make sure Dean doesn't die (and maybe like himself but who actually cares about that rn). This gives him information that makes him feel better, and it looks like in the kit there are things like...bandages...and whatnot. Items he should be comfortable with if he's not going to have access to his Grace, or maybe not even his connection to Heaven, if he's too far removed from that plane of existence.
Yeah okay. He scoops up a Medical kit and nods at the robot manning the table.]
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Dean just thinks it's kinda like buying a junker car for five hundred bucks because you're desperate and then asking a mechanic to put three thousand dollars worth of work into it to keep it running. And hey, great if it makes it that far, everyone wants the car to make it that far.
But like, come on. ]
Yeah. [ Whatever, girl. You're entitled to your opinion.
Finally.... he gets to play with multi-tool. He'll officially get onto Security later, he's not pretending he's going anywhere else. So now is is time to fiddle around with every single sample gadget within reach, for extra enrichment. ] I did always want a badass Swiss Army Knife.
[ See! See! It's awesome again now. ]
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You are good with your hands, [Cas agrees, double entendre soaring two miles overhead as he leans over to watch Dean figure out all the functions of the multi-tool.] Doesn't that 'Support' job fix broken things? You could do that.
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Man. And Sam's not even here to make a face at about that. The "our little Cas and his weird shit he says without realizing it" exchange. What's the point of being alive?
Dean huffs. It's a multi-purpose huff. ]
Support? Seriously? What, I'm gonna... gonna be a spaceship mechanic? Fix up busted tech-wiz stuff? Maybe take a load off, do a little cookin' for everyone in the mess hall? [ Things that sound awesome and fulfilling and nice, but also shut up no they don't.
How long would that even last before he either screwed it up or life screwed it up for him and put a gun back in his hands? Realistically. ] 'cause I was thinking I'd make a damn fine Security officer.
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However,] But you would be just as good at those other things. [Okay, he's pretty sure he's got all his Medical Division stuff tucked away appropriately into pockets. Turns to go looking for the spaceships.] C'mon.
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Be still his beating heart, etc.
Who has two thumbs and is literally rubbing his hands together like a gleeful fucking gremlin while they walk towards spaceships? Who do you think. ]
We don't even have to hotwire one of these bad boys to take it. You believe that?
[ It's suspicious and too good to be true, sure. That just goes without saying.
Dean. Wants. A spaceship. He will take one regardless. ]
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Castiel walks up to the first nearby ship and goes,] This one's fine, [without even checking out the paint job.]
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It's a nice thought, though. Dean'll keep that one close to the chest while he sighs in the most annoyed possible way. ]
This one. [ This one that's objectively great and awesome because it's still a spaceship but Dean needs to be judgy about all the things Cas doesn't realize need to be judged. ] Cas, can you at least pretend to shop around? Find one you like, dude, kick some tires! Check under the hood.
[ Just like car shopping! If neither of them were 100% sure about how the engines worked yet.
Give Dean time, he's ready to get elbow-deep in some ship guts. ]
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[ He shouldn't say that. He's insulting Murder, She Wrote right now. Well, whatever, it's fine. ]
It's an expression, Cas. If you're flyin' one of these the entire time we're here, you should make sure you like the damn thing.
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