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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.
initiate;
I wish I could...
[ He really does. Sadly, that privilege will have to be reserved for the more corporeal. He subconsciously leans in, a boyish spark of interest in his eyes. Sports........... ]
Are you...a boxer?
no subject
martha and beowulf had taken the time to instruct him in their differing styles.)
Mm, not necessarily, I know how to thanks to people I've met before. I'm better with a bow more than my fists.
(was he curious? karna thought that it was cute of him to have that childlike spark to his eye. maybe there was something he could do, since he can presume there are reasons for it and his refusal.)
Boxing isn't difficult to learn, but it can be to apply properly since it requires timing. If you'd like, you could watch me and try to follow along with my movements instead of sparring.
(that might be better, maybe. he's always had a soft spot for the young, and it isn't any harm to let him try learning, since karna can slow his movements to give him the chance to catch them.)
no subject
I'd love to! I don't quite understand what it feels like to exercise, but I'll try my best to keep up.
[ Karna is now officially the coolest person he's met here, bar none. He doesn't even care if they're doing this in the middle of the ship. ]
no subject
he does first take the chance to stretch. since his young companion mentioned that, he should at least take the opportunity to let him limber up. safety first. well, something of safety first, it's still good to impart good habits in someone before moving on to the real thing.)
It can feel rewarding, truly. Even just desiring to do it is enough, I use it to unwind and clear my mind. I'd say that it's enjoyable whenever you find your own rhythm in it.
(a roll of his shoulders, his burnt arms out stretched moments later. it's something interesting to think about to him still, one can notice the heat coming off karna, but his mana is not accessible. he's already joked poorly that his practicality with it is equal to a space heater, from that being unable to necessarily "leave" him.
....and about trying death being a bad idea.)
no subject
[ Repetitive movements that one knows is part of making progress, a difference, practice. He nods along, taking in the man's movements, mimicking them with his fiery form to the best of his ability, speed and all, despite having no real reason to do so. Just putting in that effort is rewarding for him, even if his body has no real point of comparison as to what it's like to stretch and limber up. He can now say that he's exercised, in some form.
Inevitably, his notice falls upon the burnt limbs, the way the heat also emanates from the man in a way that doesn't simply happen for most normal humans, and so he has to ask. ]
...Are you fire?
[ Not "Are you on fire?" or "Do you use fire?", but "Are you fire?". ]
no subject
he doesn't answer the question, not yet. fire is something that's always been part of him, the light of the sun and it's tender embrace. the fiery passion of it as those driven by it carry on, karna has always understood that and seen it as something beautiful. that humans themselves can be like warm rays of sunlight, a blasphemous thought in the face of his father, but one he learned as he lived on.
his expression softens briefly, the coldness to it like he was thinking of something else and then:)
Blessed by the sun, by my father, Surya, the Sun God. I carry in me something like a fire that will never fade.
(eternal flames. he knew not his father personally, but he still is grateful to him for his gifts that he had given him. if only karna could access his mana in full, but alas, he can't change that.)
My mana itself is fire, is what I mean. It's something that will never leave me, restricted and sealed away or not.
no subject
He mulls over Karna's words in his mind, arm outstretched mid-...stretch. Unable to help himself, he flexes his fiery fingers, looks down at his arm, then back at the flames that the man himself sports. Back at his limbs, burnt and charred but still there, solidly seen and felt (probably to the consternation of any foes that Karna may have faced). ]
So it's a part of who you are... We're not the same, of course, but we're not too different from each other in that regard, either.
[ Although he wouldn't call his own situation in a blessing, the similarity is comforting, in a way. So he smiles, a little rueful, and the flames that make up his fingers on his right hand mildly dissipate into the surroundings, like a candle in the air. ]
My own flames are one of the few things I've ever really known.
no subject
child of the sun, child of surya who only once touched his son to bless him as he rested in his mother's womb. that is karna. he's silent, listening, and maybe softens up slightly in his usually cold expression. he wasn't wrong, karna thinks. they are similar, but not. the man who was known for being powerful, one of the strongest and yet, he died before his true potential could be realized. his hands, though burnt, are real.
everything about his body is. being alive again in a fuller sense left him surprised, and confused about how this happened to him. he won't question it too much, but he also can't help himself by thinking this is interesting. another chance at living, this time, without being summoned to fight for what wishes his masters has.
or to protect the world, as his current master had desired most before everything went to hell and agony.)
....I never thought I'd meet someone else with eternal flames.
(the sight of the wisps of fire on the boy's hands does cause karna to watch closely, did he live in it for this long? his heart almost aches for him.)
It can be a blessing and curse, I suppose. The warm feeling of it being lighter than anything, but.... (he pauses, expression thoughtful, and then:) ....then it also gets lonely, when it gets colder.
no subject
[ He's not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that someone else has felt—does feel—the constant licking of flames on their body too, wrapped in searing, undying heat, but every encounter is a blessing for him, so he'll treat this one as such too, despite the circumstances. Or maybe precisely because of them. ]
Do you get lonely often?
[ It's difficult for him to imagine his life without the faint yet constant crackle of fire murmuring in his real body's ears, so used to them over the years that that they've become negligible. ]
no subject
but the question of loneliness, his smile, it never reaches his eyes fully outside rarer moments. it still softens karna's expression, now that he thinks about it....he wasn't wrong to ask. karna did feel it. loneliness, but was that not okay as long as he felt it? it meant he misses people he held dear to his heart. those who were not with him, those who he longed to see again some day be it in battle or together on the same side.
it only meant that they had become important to him. those who he would never forget, those who will live on through their wishes that he carries upon his shoulders. be they men and women, be they the youth who prided themselves for their dreams.)
Sometimes. I always believe it to mean those who I miss were those who I hold dear to my heart.
(the fire's warmth, the warmth of happiness, love, and the closeness of everyone. their laughter, his rarest of smiles in response as they live, as they mourn, and as they carry on together. be merry, oh foolish men, while praying that their lost brothers may rest in peace to the gods above.)
However....I also like to believe one day I'll see them again.
no subject
Then I'll believe so too, for your sake.
[ And his own, but he doesn't say that out loud. Now that he's had a taste of what it's like to live with comrades, to laugh and talk but also deliberate and mourn with them, he wants more than anything to hold on to those feelings and memories until Day 100, and carry them beyond even after his flames die out. ]
Sorry for bringing the mood down... [ Talking about people they miss, on the first day... ] Um... My name is Shion. What's yours? Where are you from?