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

Cas. Don't.

[ Do not make him take that multi-tool out of your angelic lil hands like he did the booze.

Or do, he guesses, he's here anyway. ]

[Stops like a leash was pulled taut, but he's annoyed abt it. Dean will have to come take his stolen multi-tool back himself though]

[ RIP Cas, now being liberated of the multi-tool that was already liberated from someone else. ]

Alright, give it. You lost tool privileges. [ Just gonna do a little grab, there's a good cosmic entity, attaboy. ] Take it from me, gettin' yourself electrocuted sucks. C'mon.

[Angelic equivalent of stomping his foot which is just a glower that reads SmitingYouSmitingYou. Someone has not yet learned that if you are hungry, you feel compelled to kill your loved ones over small inconveniences. Dean of course gets the tool because for once, his grip strength exceeds Castiel's.]

Edited 2025-11-21 19:31 (UTC)

[ Such an angry little guy... hilarious actually. Unusual for stuff this minor, but like. Still funny.

If Dean had a dollar for every time he annoyed Sam into looking at him like that? He'd be rich. ]

Dude, you need a sandwich. That's gonna fix a lot of this attitude you got goin'.

[ With all the love in his heart. And all the annoyingness.

Finding food fixes SO many problems. Cas will learn to love that. ]

[With the kind of banked anger usually reserved for confronting the accused in a manslaughter trial:] I just ate. [He had half a cherry cola like four hours ago. What more could this body possibly need]

[ Okay but sometimes Cas is extra endearing when he's clearly full of rage and thinking about violence. Look at him. He's so fed up already.

Maybe Dean should look more sympathetic. He doesn't at all, though. Happy to help :) ]

Welcome to the party, pal. [ But he will, of course, soothe the sting of this fresh hell with a little shoulder squeeze. ] Human condition's a real bitch. We always want somethin'.

[ Which could mean nothing.

But yeah, sometimes the very act being alive is exhausting. Dean can't make that not true or any less crappy, because it's literally just how being alive is for everyone all the time. He can, however, make sure Cas doesn't starve to death or get space scurvy. ]

[Maybe his dad is actually a stupid shitty engineer who made poor design choices when putting humans together, how about that? Maybe making these beloved wonderful gorgeous creatures with lovely souls have to eat and drink and piss and shit was like, a bad idea. Is there a reason they have to smell bad after a few days of not washing? Is there a purpose to that?

Dean has to steer Cas away from the Holo Deck and back towards the Mess Hall, but he doesn't resist even if he continues to look murderous as they walk. Now that he's thinking about it, he does have that "head ache" thing going on, and something in the vicinity of his vessel's stomach does feel scraped raw, like that time with Famine where he couldn't cram the red meat into his mouth fast enough. That had sucked.

The smell of food hits him first and all of a sudden it makes perfect sense. Holy fuck he's hungry. At that point Castiel breaks away from Dean and makes a beeline for the first food truck, eyes wide and demanding, hands on the counter, the "most filling dish you have."]

[ See, now it's Dean's turn to support his wife. Balanced as all things should be. Should he find this funny and endearing??? Maybe not. But that's where we're at.

Like okay we're gonna do this food truck, this is workable. ]

And a number seven for me. Thanks. [ It looks like it's in the ballpark of a big basket of fries. Which is nutritionally necessary even if Cas doesn't understand that yet.

Dean has to be charming to the food trucks NPCs to help counter Cas's offputting behaviors. That's like his very fulfilling job right now. ]

[The robot seems to appreciate that at least one of them has manners, anyway, but serves up both orders and doesn't even spit in Castiel's (because it doesn't have any saliva) as it hands the food over. Castiel's plate has something like coleslaw and pulled pork with greens and garlic bread, and Dean's fries are crispy and dusted with...something or other. Probably something tasty.

Castiel doesn't even wait for them to get to the table, cradling the food in one arm as he stuffs half of a slice of garlic bread into his mouth with the other, and- ah, okay. Yes, that is confirmation, that's what he wants. Consuming this is going to solve some of his problems, he can feel it.]

So strange, [he mumbles around the bread, stuffing the second half in when he's only barely swallowed the first mouthful, sitting at a table across from Dean.]

Good, right? [ Get human'd, idiot. Get absolutely stricken by life's small daily joys, because they're the glue holding everything together.

Bless Cas's little heart. ] I wanna say you'll get used to it, but you got a lot more time put into the celestial game.

[ This could be a weird brief moment in time that's like impossible to adjust to fully for however long it lasts.

Dean hopes that's not the case, for more than one reason. ]

[He said strange, not good, but go off. The headache disappearing almost the instant he put the bread in his mouth was extremely bizarre. And...good, sure.]

Mmh. [Now that he's not preparing to emotionally raze a small village, Cas examines the rest of the food on his plate. A lot of varied leafs. Sam likes them so he knows that humans do still eat those, but...] The passage of time is relative to experiences lived.

[Picks up a leaf distrustfully and nibbles on it.] One time I flew in a straight line for ten thousand years just to see where I would end up. [Leaf is rejected. Now attempting to wield space spork against coleslaw.] Turns out, the middle of nowhere, ten thousand lightyears away. [Makes a 'go figure' gesture with his free hand that is 100% Dean.]

[ Okay, Dean's laughing at that story straight-up. Thanks Cas, needed a laugh as a special treat after today's weird bullshit. ]

Sounds like you went joyriding in the Midwest there, Cas. All road and nothin' worth getting to.

[ The "idk I wonder where I'll end up if I do this" of it all. Kind of insane objectively on account of the ten thousand years. ]

Hell, maybe even worse. At least Nebraska breaks it up with some cornfields and cows.

[ Dean likes to see cows and smack Sam on the shoulder and be like dude look. There's your real family, that's where you got those big sad eyes from. Literally just to annoy him. ]

[Expression goes soft and impossibly fond at the laugh, and at Dean yet again relating something Castiel has done to everyday human experiences. It's...nice. To think that after all this time and everything he's done, he can be just Some Dude to Dean Winchester.

It can be irritating too, but more and more often, it's nice.]

Oh, [the pulled pork is a HIT, folks. Cas even pushes his plate and holds out his spork to Dean to use.] This food has a very pleasing taste. Try it, Dean.

[ Bold of Cas to look all soft and fond like Dean is the special little guy at this table, when Cas is clearly 100% the special little guy. Wow. Dean will simply refuse to acknowledge that.

Damn if it's not nice to see Cas have a nice time with something right now, though. Like in spite of how crappy it all is. And... has been. For basically the entire recent past, but especially today. ]

Well, if it's 'pleasing.' [ If a day comes where someone needs to say "hey Dean try this food" twice, he's probably dying. He'll take a sporkful no questions asked: there's no shame in the game when it comes to eating. ] Mm. Spaceship or not, that's damn good pork.

[ If it really is pork. Do they have pigs here? Is it pig-adjacent space livestock? Literally doesn't matter when it tastes good.

Dean will repay this kindness by dropping a handful of fries onto Cas's plate before he pushes it back over there. ] Get your carbs in, buddy. Gonna need those. [ Beauty. Grace. Spoken with a couple of fries somehow already in his own mouth.

Don't take his nutritional advice, please do not take his nutritional advice, he does not give a shit about nutrition. But also do have the fries. Gotta stay fed. Very important. ]

[Hold on, Castiel is now experimenting with the combination of foods. He's about to blow his own fucking mind over here. The spork is not as helpful at getting some pork balanced on a fry, but he's doing his best with it.]

Eating is much more agreeable this time. [THERE, got it. And...it's fucking delicious. Is already preparing another one for Dean.]

[ Look at him go. He's a damn natural. Just a cute lil guy realizing he likes food and wanting to share it. Dean's allowed to be very proud and supportive of Cas in this trying time, shut up. ]

Take the wins where you can get 'em, right? [ A human necessity that isn't a chore or a miserable slog. Funny to watch unfold out of all that pure rage from before. And nobody even got murdered. Wow. ] You're gonna love havin' fries with a milkshake. Gotta be one of the best things humanity's ever turned out.

[ Yeah yeah humans have free will and empathy or whatever. They used their best qualities to invent milkshakes and then invented dipping fries into milkshakes. That trumps it all. ]

[Quick narrative inquiry Dean Winchester do you think of all your dude friends as a 'cute lil guy' or]

That sounds disgusting. Here. [Holds out a new fry with pork balanced on it, apparently not aware that dudes are not supposed to feed other dudes in Dean Winchester's world, just holding it up like he thinks Dean will chomp it from his fingers. Which he does think that. Humans feed other humans all the time.]

[ How Dean Winchester thinks about his dude friends and/or his very best friend specifically is for him to know and nobody to ever find out.

Quick return inquiry: what is this. What's happening here. ]

Cas, I'm a grown man. Don't... don't try to hand-feed me. It's insulting. [ Yeah. Insulting. That's a good all-rounder to not have to think too much about whatever other ways he might have to explain why it's weird to do. Because Dean's got a feeling that no overall amount of going down the explanation rabbit hole would end with Cas being like "ah I see now, you're so totally right, Dean."

He's not even dying or severely wounded or anything. There's literally no reason for this gesture.

Dean is obviously still gonna try to take that fry using his hand, though. Give him the food, he loves foods. ]

Anyway, don't knock the shake 'til you try it. You thought eating at all sucked like, ten minutes ago.

[Squints. People feed grown men all the time?? But okay, he got the food, he ate the food. Yet again, Dean Winchester making things unnecessarily complicated for himself, news at 11.

Cas returns to his meal. It's time to re-introduce the leaves and see how they mesh with the pork and/or coleslaw.]

Taste aside, eating still sucks. Mastication... [FROWNS.] And I don't enjoy swallowing. [It's better than throwing up blood, but not by much. Don't even get him started on digestion, nobody's going to survive that conversation.]

Edited 2025-11-26 14:17 (UTC)

[ Thus proving Dean's exact point about how pointless that entire explanation rabbit hole would be. Check and mate. ]

Yeah, yeah, I'm just sayin'. [ Points at. ] Don't knock a taste before you even try it. There's way too many options out there for that.

[ Can't help with hating chewing or swallowing though, Cas will just have to suffer. ]

As long as you gotta eat, we're keepin' you fed.

[ With garbage. It'll be fine. ]

Hopefully not for long. [Putting pork and slaw into a leaf and eating it like a tiny taco is a huge success. Prepares one for Dean and this time stretches across the table to leave it on Dean's plate instead.]

[ Must not be endeared on main by Cas and his whole-- still wanting to share all his food discoveries. It would be uncool to make it all weird. Dean's allergic to being weird.

But he's allowed to maybe feel a way about it in secret. That's fine. ]

Nah, I bet you're gonna miss it after.

[ Even with the masticating and swallowing. Eating is nice. Food is good. It's simple. ]

[Chews thoughtfully, giving it real thought. Will he? Swallowing is uncomfortable; he doesn't like semi-solid matter going down a similar hole to the one he needs to keep breathing. The sensation leaves much to be desired. He also isn't a fan of all the wetness going on in the mouth with the excretion of saliva. He knows it's necessary to aid in digestion and for overall health, but actually experiencing it kind of blows. He also doesn't like the idea of being so dependent on such a finite resource. If their hosts elect to just cut off their supplies to perishables, how will they survive? Humans can only survive without food for only a few weeks before they break down irreparably; without water, only days. It leaves him far too much at the mercy of powers he not only doesn't trust, but doesn't fully understand.

On the other hand...if Castiel doesn't eat, he might not get to see those expressions on Dean's face again from across the table.]

...maybe, [Cas says, since he's still undecided himself, and he eats a french fry by itself. Okay. Very salty. Could do with something else to help it go down. We are going to assemble an ult leaf taco with pork, fry, and slaw as fillings and it's gonna bring down the house.]

'Maybe.'

[ A little mimicking Cas's voice and tone. As a treat. Dean is personally taking that to mean he's right and Cas just doesn't wanna admit it. ]

Well make sure you keep me posted on that one, buddy.

[ Dean will probably miss it enough for both of them. If he's honest, which he won't be. ]

BUFF

DEBUFF

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