Entry tags:

⸻ tdm

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!"

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)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

001 | REFLECT

[ It's done in a blink. Booted feet step silently from the final shadow closest to the window and continue to her objective. They're stopped a few steps from any would-be company—NPCs, she thinks. Despite Starling Lament's explanation, she hasn't ruled out the possibility that she's somehow been abducted and sealed inside some sort of simulation or—and a girl can hope—a videogame of some kind? She's slower than she should be due to the persisting migraine that's assaulted her since she first regained consciousness, the acute awareness of the distinct lack about everything, the absence of her sixth, one of the critical senses through which she perceives and otherwise experiences the world. (Three threads of thought spinning, not eight, and not flawlessly. Embarrassing.)

It's unsettling in a way she wouldn't begin to know how to describe. More than that, it's frightening, frustrating, nauseating, which is why she had taken so long to leave the medbay and arrive at that point. Fortunately for them, she seems to be herself otherwise. That's their saving grace, that she is herself and didn't completely and utterly lose her mind in the face of the enormity of the lack of proper existence. Being unable to See, to sense the pervasive spiritual energy of all things—it's no longer a wonder to her, how those suddenly Awakened might lose their minds coming into it. Being somehow robbed of it..?

They aren't her concern, of course. She herself is and the situation in which she's abruptly found herself. No phone, no computer, no technology of hers—nothing of hers, actually, except the clothes on her back. She'd checked as soon as she'd realized what wasn't what. Before that, her stomach had voiced a small complaint, giving her some clue as to how long she might have been out. If her appetite was beginning to recover, then—well, that's the primary reason she ultimately wound up leaving the medical bay with a tall cup of some kind of coffee. She has more than enough to begin with. No sense in having to worry about that for now, if it's something to be worried about relative to whatever this is.

Lowering her cup from her lips as she turns golden amber eyes from the trading post below, Nao can't help but think that it wouldn't be nearly as huge a pain if her sixth sense were intact. Well, it'd still be a pretty big pain, but at least then she could enjoy herself a little more. Starling's Lament was so cute! A little robot—any robot moving so seamlessly is unheard of, and she wanted to ask it so many questions! Maybe take a little look inside... (er, there's no maybe about it.)

They're stacking, of course. So many, so much are stacking as she turns her gaze to the nebula. Coral pink isn't her fave, but pink—she loves any pink and the dark purple with it, the detail she can see is breathtaking. If it's real, if she could See it completely, feel it—she finally blinks, realizing she can't. In its stead, red, moonlight, a smile all there and gone.

It's a dead girl that gazes back at her. Tears flow freely from familiar onyx eyes and forge a path through an expression twisted by terror, sorrow—oh, it shakes her. Knocks her composure for sure, but rather than step back, she steps forward and reaches toward the girl who, like the red, the moonlight, that smile is there and gone. There's nothing, no one. Just the nebula. Just a dim reflection of a hooded figure quietly retracting a hand with a recovering casualness that tinges its withdrawal into a full body stretch. ]

So!

[ She bounces on her feet once, twice with the initial exclamation. Turning her head to look at the person she's addressing? Nope! There's only so many people around and it probably doesn't help anyone nearby that the large, long hood of her black cardigan hoodie is still drawn.

It helps her plenty, though, and that's what counts! ]

I'm not entirely sold on the whole "true reality with real convenient overtones" presentation, y'know? It could be a simulation. The graphics are better than real life.

[ She slides her golden amber eyes to one side to observe the, uh... NPC? PNPC? She's going to have to figure that out. Could it be trademarked...? (Hmmm!) In any case, she's continuing with this line of testing. ]

Whadda you think?

002 | IMBIBE

Is this some kind of joke?

[ With both hands on her hips, Nao bends and leans forward to better examine the drink. "Cherry Cola," it says. Right. Is this some kind of easter egg? It wouldn't be a coincidence in the case of any coded item, but she has yet to confirm her standing theory that this is a simulation of some kind. Or a videogame. (If it is, let it be a videogame!)

It does beg another a question, though, and she can cover for herself when it comes to the matter of drawing too much attention. She always has and her questions are pitched innocently enough. ]

Has anybody else heard of this before? "Cherry Cola?"

003 | FOREWORD

[ "Walk, don't run," it's surely a universal command birthed of wisdom and some degree of care. It echoes behind Nao as she runs among the ships. Well, sometimes she runs. Sometimes, she bounds about with all the enthusiasm of a hungry child with a sweet tooth in a candy store. She's there one moment, then over there in the next with yet another exclamation and a giddily asked question, if not an entire series.

Finally, she seems to sort of settle on her feet. She brings her hands together with a clap that makes her wince, but who cares! ]

Now this is more like it! Who wants to race?

[ Someone tell her no. Someone please drown the dangerous, mischievous glint in her eyes or scruff her. Flipping her braid over her shoulder, she grins. ]

I bet I could take all of you!!

004 | WILD CARD

[ You know the drill! Drop me a starter or hit me up at

c_anon or via PM and we'll cook something up together. And please don't feel pressured to match my tl;dr. With a beginning-beginning prompt, sometimes I gotta roll a bit to figure out where my blorbo is at. I also apologize in advance for my blorbo. ]

[He doesn't see what she sees; can't, not really, and he's not willing to risk another look at the nebula, another glimpse at a world he's made for himself. Doesn't that make him a coward? Isn't it rich, bringing him here and treating him with such kindness? How long before he messes things up here, too?

...

This girl doesn't need him asking questions like that, and she's asking about something totally different, anyway. He frowns a bit, trying to figure out exactly what she is asking; those sure did sound like words, but he has no idea what the hell they mean.]

What, you mean like...none of this is real? [Aha! His brain isn't a total lost cause after all! Maybe!] I dunno about that. Seems pretty real to me. What makes you think it's not?

[ She doesn't bother to check the curl of the right corner of her mouth. He's making some fun assumptions. There are so many answers she could offer the guy, too. Tempering the flood of them, she draws her mental threads taut and directs them as necessary behind an innocuous expression.

Which way to go with it? Pinching herself for his benefit aside, that is. She'd already pinched herself several times between the medbay and hall. Maybe she'll pinch him next, poke a few things, continue her pursuit of proof, information.

At least she's finally turning her head to look at him properly? ]

I wouldn't say none. [ She gestures. ] "Real" is both objective and subjective, y'know? If you were in a simulated reality or like, a videogame, would you know the difference from your native reality?

Suo stands with his hands clasped behind his back throughout the presentation, watching curiously as they drift away from the planet in question before the excited movement of someone catches his attention. The energy coming off Nao in her enthusiasm is enough to warrant an audience, but that wince following her own clap doesn't go unnoticed either.

There's no reason to get involved or step forward as far as he sees it, but then she makes the bold claim that she could beat anyone here, and that does earn her a reaction. Mild, with the tone of someone thoroughly impressed by this declaration.

"Wooow... confident, aren't we?"

What's that saying, don't feed the trolls?

Meeting his gaze, she beams and winks. "Good eye!"

Unwavering, that confidence of hers, and Nao is no less bright or shameless as she puts her peripheral to work. Japanese, she thinks. Maybe a little younger than her? And wearing a familiar style of clothing. That posture... huh.

Well, best not to skip a beat.

"You wanna trade questions instead of proper answers? We could make a game of it."

Suo remains in a passive stance, smiling pleasantly at her response. Sizing each other up like opponents in a battlefield rather than two teenagers, absolutely nothing to see here.

"Oh? Does that mean you have a question for me?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

Nao beams with her initial exclamation. Hers is a seemingly soft, quiet intensity.

"After all, it's not much of a game if both parties don't have questions, now is it?"

Oh, he's got questions, just not ones he's likely to ask directly. Not his style. He tips his head at that, expression unchanged.

"Have you picked one out, yet? You seem so excited."

[ As like a 35 year old dude who understands responsibility, Dean should probably be a good role model and do just that. Tell this random girl no dude, stop that.

But as a fellow kid in a candy store at heart, consider: what if he doesn't do that because he's not a good role model anyway?

So his face pops out from behind a random ship he's considering and he straight-up just points at her instead. ]

You're on.

[ Let's accidentally blow ourselves up crashing spaceships on the TDM together because nobody reasonable can stop us. ]

[ Yes! Now there's a kindred spirit if ever she did see one!

Nevermind that she hasn't actually settled on a ship yet.

... What? There's nothing wrong with examining each and every ship in her line of sight up close and personal. (There are so many ships in her line of sight! Who's giddy? Not her.) They're beautiful! Technological wonders! And she's -- ugh, broke, completely and utterly without access to her cash, assets, and the various resources she's built and collected over the years, which means she can't immediately customize and upgrade her ship, so she'd better pick what she'll be happiest with for the moment.

She's got something of an idea, at least, and takes a dramatic step back as if in response to the guy's pointing. One foot in front of the other, body turned partially to the side with an open stance--and there's the hair flip. ]

No takebacks and no crying when you finally catch up to me! [ Time to pick her ship! ]

[ Update: if anything happens to this random teen, Dean's gonna blow up the ship and everyone on it.

SCOFFS at her back! Scoffs! ]

Don't mess with me 'n Wasabi, kid, she can bring the heat!

[ She won't. She's the minivan of the free ship options bc he needed room for more than just him and room for add-ons. But still!!! ]

[ She intentionally slides her eyes pointedly to focus them on the ship he's chosen. The slow brow raise? Intentional. ]

Pfft! What, you got the nafety for safety or somethin'?

[ There it is, the laughter, annnnnd -- ]

How about we make things interesting? If you're sooOOOoo confident in your girl there!

[ -- yep, she has an idea in mind. She's starting to walk, too, filtering through possible ships in her mind. She already knows which one. She already knows she's going to win, too, but testing a playmate's gullibility is as important as acquiring resources in a new place. ]

[ She's got jokes. She's got bets. Is she hustling or just excited? What's even the metric on hustlers around here? Hard to say for sure, because Dean is among their number.

And yet. ngl kind of funny either way. ]

Do you even have your learner's permit?

BUFF

DEBUFF

Nao Mizushita | Original

reflect!

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003 | FOREWORD

oh god here they go

sets this down and walks away again

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foreword

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>> Imbibe

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reflect

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the holidays are rude, forgive me

imbibe;

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