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theorememes2025-11-03 08:07 am
TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire
BUFF
Bonded of The Sorrowweld will find that the NPCs are especially friendly to them this month. Seriously, they just keep trying to give you things. It might get annoying.
DEBUFF
For those who are bonded to Tarnished Az-Mehet, you keep seeing shadows out of the corner of your eye on every screen in the ship, even your datapad. Something is lurking.
At first, you feel a pull. In which direction, you do not know. When a portal of shimmering black and glittering stars appears in front of you, it only seems natural to step into it. On the journey, it is as if you see everything: ancient galaxies wheeling through space, cultures born and growing and leaving their planets, lights creeping over landmasses and them winking out all at once. You see the hungry arm of a black hole, an enigmatic smile under a mirrored mask, a fist clenched tight around an endless sword. Fangs shining in starlight, bandaged feet that have traveled so many miles and still remain sturdy, and code shattering under titanium will.
And then your feet touch solid ground again, and what you have seen is suddenly hard to recall, the merest of glimpses springing to mind when you try to think back.
All you know is that you witnessed something enormous, something you probably shouldn't have seen.
As you struggle to refocus your gaze, all you see for a long moment is white. White walls, white floor. Narrow white cots lined up against a wall, screens blinking above them in tones of soothing aqua and mint. You are in a medbay — a highly advanced one, given the lack of bulky machinery — but perhaps the most eye-catching thing about the room is a long window showing endless black and twinkling stars outside.
Before you can give voice to any thoughts, a small robot flutters toward you, and perches on the back of a chair. "Hello, Wayfarer!" the birdform chirps cheerfully. "I imagine you must have many questions; allow me to enlighten you! You have fallen victim to a quantum accident and have been pulled to another universe, but the Ascendants, in their generosity, intercepted your signal and brought you here so that you did not wind up in empty space. You are aboard the Theorem of the Astral Rose; our mission is to explore uncharted space and search for the Song!"
They pause, thinking, their little blue eye aglow, and then brighten.
"Oh! Introductions are in order! I am Starling's Lament in Flight, but you may call me Starling's Lament. I am one of the Hosts of this exploration vessel; we will do everything we can to ensure a safe voyage for you. Unfortunately, at this moment, we cannot send you home. The Ascendants have indicated that their search for the Song may play some key role in doing so." They whistle a merry tune. "Please enjoy your stay!"
When you manage to get your wits about you -- it's a bumpy ride between universes! -- you start to leave the medbay. Starling's Lament has indicated that you are free to explore the ship, and nowhere is off limits to you. As you leave the cool white tones of the medbay behind, a hallway stretches out in front of you. Both sides are transparent, offering a view into the long dark of space beyond. However, unlike deep space, there is currently quite a lot to see.
On the left lays the broad curve of a planet, lush green landmass and white clouds skidding across its surface. Its star is just sinking behind it, lighting up the very edge of its atmosphere in tones of engine-burn orange and ozone blue, as long shadows cast by enormous space elevators creep across the landmasses. Its most eye-catching feature, however, are the hexagonal structures webbed across its surface, connected by fine corridors with all the geometric precision of woven spider's silk. You can just barely see the tiny dots of spaceships flowing around them, docking, embarking, shuttling between them.
"That is the Redline Trading Post." You hear a tiny whisper, and look up to see another robot — a beetleform, this time, with a shiny dotted shell — watching you curiously from its place on the ceiling. In fact, there are a number of other Hosts doing the exact same thing; a snakeform coiled around a barrier rail, a catform with bright yellow eyes peeking around the corner, a chirping droneform hovering some distance down the hallway. They're all fascinated by you. "But we will be departing soon. You will not get to taste the Galactic Snowball Nova-Cream, the shining culinary jewel of Redline. Sorry. I hear it is very tasty."
You look to your right, away from the planet and the Redline post, to gaze out into the depths of space. In the distance, there is a nebula, its gasses lit up in shades of coral pink and deep purple. It is pockmarked with stars both young and old, newborn stellar entities cradled in the depths of its life-making dust. Set against the dark of space, it is a flower in bloom.
It's beautiful, except—
The longer you look at it, the more something nags at the corner of your mind. A memory glances across your thoughts, unbidden. Something you hoped for, maybe; or something you fear. Whatever the memory, as you gaze at the nebula, a small piece of it curls, shaping in response to your memory. It is your face, reflected perfectly. Smiling, or howling in anger, or weeping.
Eventually, the nebula will go back to normal. But for now, it reflects the fears and triumphs of the new Wayfarers, a mirror held up in the darkness of space.
Once you make it into the bulk of the ship, the Hosts inform you that as they have just restocked all essential supplies, they will be throwing a party in your honor, and they hope you will sample the food.
Maybe you're incredibly dubious about this. Maybe you're starving after your long journey. Either way, you find yourself in the mess hall. It's less like a traditional mess hall and more like a park full of food trucks with seating in the middle. The food trucks are bright and eye-catching, Hosts serving huge heaps of food from their interiors, as their signs advertise everything from Earthen Ancient Egyptian food (As Close As We Can Reconstruct It!) to Raxalar Black Stew (New and Improved: Now Free Of Grit!).
Real grass is underfoot, and the picnic-style seating in the middle appears to be real wood. The lighting is a myriad; whimsical string lights strung between the trucks, floating globe lights playfully dancing like fireflies, and the luminescence of a dogform's patterns and a droneform's enormous eyes and a flyform's glittering trail. The Hosts are clearly excited.
And if the food happens to have... some kind of effect?
Well, the Hosts say, that's only to be expected! The attention of an Edict may, for a nano-second, turn toward the start of this voyage, and that's bound to make anything go a little wonky. Also, they've used some ingredients from the local system, and it's only customary there to share some thoughts and ideas and memories when you eat together. How else can you properly get to know each other?
This may or may not look appealing to you depending on your sensibilities, but it does smell incredible. Soft, savory red meat paired with the fragrant, earthy scent of the vegetable. The Red Buffalo is perfectly seared, and if you poke them cautiously, you'll find the spikes are entirely edible, as long as you chew well enough. If Wayfarers eat this, they will find themselves sharing a memory with the nearest person, a vision of the last time they were truly happy.
It seems the Hosts aren't quite sure of the appropriate alcohol content of substances, as this will burn all the way down, chased by a cool, sparkly feeling all the way down one's esophagus. It tastes of sweetly sour plums, and a potential hangover tomorrow morning. Wayfarers that imbibe this alcohol beverage will start overhearing the thoughts of those around them, as if they are perfectly in tune with everyone.
Ah, a perfectly homey looking meal, sweet and savory, gently steaming. These are a must-try for any Wayfarer with a sweet tooth, proudly boasting of the agricultural and apiary skill of a nearby alien culture. The buns are perfectly fluffy, the spiced honey is warming. What's not to love? After eating this, Wayfarers will find themselves and the nearest person sharing a vision of themselves as they might have been had they gone down the worst possible path in their life.
This isn't the Cherry Cola! you may or may not be familiar with, but it's interesting that whatever alien came up with this came up with the same Earth word. Or maybe the Hosts got it from Earth? Either way, it's fizzy, it's sparkly, it makes you feel like you're floating on rainbow bubbles. Upon drinking this, imbibers will telepathically project outward a vision of the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.
Dear god. What is it? Who came up with this? Who is even brave enough to try this? It certainly… has a taste. It… has an appearance. Whether either of these things are good is in the eye of the beholder. Wayfarers adventurous enough to put this in their mouths (or other eating appendages) will find themselves uncontrollably speaking aloud of the thing they long for the most.
Eventually, it comes time to launch.
The Hosts are a blur of activity, some of them packing up more delicate equipment in case of errant gravity waves during initial propulsion, some of them herding the Wayfarers into a seating area reserved specifically for the safety of its occupants during launch, deceleration, and rare turbulence. You are informed that engine flare will be so bright it will rival a star for the next twenty-five hours of engine start-up burn, but you will only need to stay strapped in for half an hour or so.
As the Theorem's enormous engines start cycling, the entire ship seems to hum in melodic song. And after everybody is strapped in, that's when the intensity starts. Gravity seems to want to push everything toward the stern, and Wayfarers are pressed hard against their seats with the inertia. After half an hour, the Hosts cheerily announce that everybody is free to get up and move around — but you might want to stay near a window, as they will be doing a low dive through the nearby planet's second moon's atmosphere, and it will be quite the sight.
Soon enough, the moon becomes visible. It is of unbroken crimson red, though subtle shifting in its surface lets you guess that it's water rather than earth. And then, as the Theorem rolls gently to the side, the view in the windows nearly perfectly split between moon and space, that's when you see them, swimming through the atmosphere.
To call them fish would be inaccurate — they are not in an ocean, or any body of water — and yet, that will be the word that springs to mind for most Wayfarers. Some of them are sleek and small, schooling in packs of shimmering white and ochre. Others are long and pointed, appendages pointed backward to exude a bright pink gas that propels them forward and which trails after them like oil slicks in the air. The locals call them x'enuda, the Hosts tell you, a combination of words that mean to fly and cunning prey.
They swim closer, swarming outside of the window. Some of them swim through, phasing through the shielding and windows alike, to dance gently in the interior of the Theorem, darting to and fro. If any Wayfarers find themselves curious enough to reach out and touch these creatures, they will find themselves similarly phased, capable of passing through matter for the next few minutes before the shared electrical field wears off and returns them to normal corporality. The external shield will catch you if you phase right through the ship's floor, but you may need to swim back up. Others may find themselves suddenly craving company, as if the x'enuda's instinct to remain safe in a school is catching.
"All Wayfarers, please report to the docking bay!"
As you filter into the enormous cavern that makes up the docking bay of the Theorem, you see rows of smaller spacecraft. Some of them are sleek and light, like they'd be as free as a feather during aerial combat, while others are bulky and spacious. Many of them have designs in alien languages on them, or bizarre looking mascots, seemingly for good luck. As the occasional screen informs you, you are free to claim any one of the ships as your own, but first, Starling's Lament would very much like to give a presentation.
Past the rows of ships lays an expansive opening in the side of the Theorem, many stories high and wide, a shimmering forcefield the only thing between you and space. Beyond it, you can see the quickly fading shape of the planet and moons you left behind as the Theorem continues acceleration. It is in front of this that Starling's Lament has set up a large hologram of a star map.
As they start to explain once everyone is gathered, the map currently shows the region of space you are in. It is an enormous quadrant of multiple galaxies, some pinwheeled in shape, some circuler or tube-like. A line arcs across it, heading into what is clearly less-explored space, beyond the area colorfully marked as Alliance territory. Eventually, that line stops at a star, which then magnifies to reveal a six planet system, the second planet from the star circled.
This is your first objective: designation Epsilon-355.
There are many stories of which planets the Last Pilgrim has set foot upon, and yet, nobody has ever verified any of them. This, the Ascendants claim, is the closest match they have found for one of those planets in a scrap of story: a land of golden sand and shimmering glass, where pilgrimages track their way across the Golden Barrens desert. The planet is small and unassuming in the hologram, and the details next to it are scarce: relatively normal gravity, breathable atmosphere. More details will become available as the Theorem gets close enough for in-depth scans.
If there any notes of the Song to be found, they may yet be found in the Last Pilgrim's footprints.
Presentation nearly over, Starling's Lament directs you a series of tables that have neatly assembled packages of gear. Once you have picked your Division, you are welcome to claim the technological tools of its trade. You can also look at the spaceships available to claim, or even just watch out the docking bay door as you leave the planet behind and head deeper into space.
Welcome to the mission, Wayfarer.
no subject
But I'll prob start charging you for escorts
[ That seems fair, and keeps the conversation how he thinks they both need it most – light. In his next moments he imagines himself crafting a lovely response message encouraging Jonas and agreeing to work together to make themselves more comfortable with their new circumstances. In reality, before he passes out, what he sends is just: ]
👀
no subject
Thanks
But fr when you wake up you should reread that last part to yourself lol😭
( Sleep is fitful, so it doesn't last long. Thirty minutes pass before he wakes cold, panicky, and alone, unsure of where or when he is. It's dark in the cabin of his ship with only a select few mandatory lights blinking—tuning things behind the scenes, probably. Or doing whatever a ship does to keep its pitch right.
Removing himself from it and staggering down the steps into the docking bay, he remembers again: He stood here at most an hour ago with some other guy. Noct, twenty years old, from Lucis on a "star" called Eos. Shorter and slighter, sure, but with the attitude of a man twice his size.
He seemed understanding despite this. Kind. So when Jonas needs another favour after touring more of the Theorem, he pulls up their last text conversation. )
Hey, are you around?
Sorry
ik I'm acting like a burden and it's only been however much time it's been, but I'm jw if I can ask you smth
no subject
Dreams nevertheless wrack him, formless things that imprint feelings more than images onto his mind, carried in the anxious response of his body when he awakes to a chime. Hands fumble for his communicator, offering it a few bleary blinks as he tries to remember where he is, who this is, and why they're speaking. ]
What
I'm aroud
no subject
I didn't mean to wake you up, sorry about that
Just ignore me, lmk later if you're free
no subject
He's still here. ]
Nah it's cool, you didn't
[ A small white lie. ]
I'm awake, so you better tell me what's up. I don't wanna guess wrong
no subject
Literally anything you guessed would be wrong
Like I promise you that
( Toeing the floor with a beat-to-shit sneaker, he glances back toward his cabin's door and presses his lips together.
Fuck, this is so fucking stupid. )
You mentioned the cabins so I went to check one out for myself and I picked one I just like
I want the overall style to stay the same but the furniture is creepy so
Can you help me get this armoire out of here?
I know I'm not gonna be able to lift it on my own
no subject
Maybe he should get up, splash some water on his face, and reread that message until it makes sense. Which he does, but returning to it twenty seconds later allots him no extra context to the strange request. ]
You're not trolling me right
There's def 0 armoire in my room so are you sure that's what it is?
1/2
It's a big ass wardrobe
Otherwise known as an armoire
Can we please skip the part where you think I'm joking and also the part where you try to tell me it's just a wooden box?
Like yes/no
Are you available to help me move this thing?
2/2
Sorry
Can you just help me out with this for a sec?
This is last time I ask I swear
Then you can go back to the sleep I almost definitely woke you up from
1/2
For someone without knowledge of his history, he feels like he's playing catch-up trying to understand this newest ask. Maybe he should just trust that he's giving him the right advice by asking to skip all the questions. ]
2/2
1. you owe me
2. we're skipping the interrogation but not the part where I call you seriously demanding
Which room are you at anyway? It's not like ik my way around this place yet so you might have to stand in the hall and wave or smth
no subject
I'm high maintenance, red flag #80, never date me
Just go anywhere near 505 okay?
I'm already in the hallway
( It has to be frustrating for Noctis—he knows that. It is for him and he's the one fighting to be believed while refusing to share or demonstrate why he should be. But anxiety roils in his stomach, so he forgets his manners.
He owes Noctis now. That means he can make it up to him later, right? If they guy ever wants to talk to him again after this. Jomnas wouldn't blame him if he didn't. )
And thanks
Again
no subject
[ A joke which would have more impact if he had any capacity for follow-through. Warning the ship's eligible bachelorettes about Jonas's quirks would require being comfortable even broaching the topic... which he isn't. ]
Dw about it
Or worry about it enough to make the return favor really good. Be out in a sec
[ He doesn't need much time to fix his appearance since the nap had been so impromptu and not allowed for him to change his clothes or ruin his hair too much, so it's only after he forces himself the rest of the way awake that he heads out into the corridor and heads down it towards 505. Once he sees him, he'll lift a hand in greeting. ]
Hey.
no subject
( His last wry text before he's left alone again, and long enough to regret everything he's ever done and ever will do. By the time Noctis shows up, he's folding in on himself, arms crossed, pacing, but hunched like he's never been warm before.
Despite a series of tense communications, when he sees Noctis coming down the hall, his body language shifts into something more open. His stride slows, gravitating toward company with awkward, nervous interest. )
Noct, hey... Sorry, you're—I'll tag you back for this. Whatever you need later, just hit me up.
( After a short pause, Noctis is stared at expectantly, Jonas refusing to move anywhere close to the door. )
... Anyhoo... The armoire's in there.
no subject
Sure. [ He doesn't beat the topic to death but neither does he reassure Jonas, unflappably stoic as he glances toward the door. ]
... are you gonna' show me or am I doing it by myself?
no subject
It sits across from the end of the double bed, giving off an ominously displaced air—to Jonas. To Noctis, it's wood, nails, and a pleasantly oaky scent. )
Actually, can you lift it by yourself? If so, I mean, that's great. I'm... I'll just get in the way, ( says the strapping, six-foot-one teenager who's currently standing against the wall adjacent to the entryway like he's just been caught eavesdropping. ) If it's super heavy, I'll pitch in. Like, if it's really heavy. Cool?
no subject
An injured man doesn't prioritize moving a dresser out of his room. ]
Seriously? [ MAJI ]
Whatever... yeah, I'll see. You just want it out here in the hall? Your room's way different than mine, by the way. You could always trade for a more metallic look if the furniture's a problem. [ Already he's moving into the much warmer and cozier room, however, taking a moment to glance around at the different design elements before he's coming face to face with that armoire. A completely normal, innocuous armoire. ]
no subject
... Yes, seriously! If you didn't want to do it, you should've backed out. But, like, you're here now, so...?
( At least he acquiesces.
This must be weird for him, Jonas thinks again. That's not his problem, though. )
I like the way the room looks, it's just the—that. It's that. You can put it wherever, I don't care.
( Leans back around the doorframe. )
If it makes you feel weird when you touch it, don't bother with it, okay? ... Noct?
no subject
[ Somehow what he needs more than anything in this moment is his right to complain. He's been banned from questioning, so what else does he have? And actually... well, he might have to bend that one rule a little with the last warning, pausing with his hand extended. He eases back on his heel, brow furrowed to firm up a more serious expression as he glances back at him. ]
Yeah, sure... Look, you don't want me asking about it, and I won't after this. But did you see something go inside this, Jonas?
no subject
( His hand slides farther up the frame, just beneath his chin. Shit, man, he doesn't want to think about this right now. He just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep.
Noctis was trying to do the same, wasn't he? And now he's having to do this chore for a stranger, one who might be lying to him. Jonas can't blame him for asking, even if he doesn't want him to. )
... I didn't see anything go in it. I've—It reminds me of another one I saw a long time ago.
I just... ( Sighing heavily, he continues. ) I don't like it, alright? It's not gonna hurt you or anything. I wouldn't screw around with you like that, I promise. You can kick my ass if you get so much as a splinter from it.
no subject
Kind of annoying that I don't think that would make me feel better.
[ There's no further quips before he's finally reaching out, however, a gloved hand gripping the side of that armoire with a testing squeeze to check for any reaction. Nothing. He's self-assured enough then to jerk it forward, the right side pulled outward before his other hand grips the left to keep inching it towards him, grunting into the first harder pull that glides it across floorboards. ]
Okay it's moving now, better get out of the way–
no subject
This is no one's fault, so why does he feel like it's being blamed on him? But shouldn't it be? Isn't he the issue here? Maybe he should've just stayed on his ship.
The grinding of the armoire startles him out of his head, and he steps back—way back—to avoid the doorway and the moving piece of furniture. ) Are you—You're good? It looks like it's sliding pretty easily. It's kinda tall for the door, but I think you've got room.
no subject
Right, that's a bigger issue than Jonas's presence near and around his travel path, lowering his grip on the armoire's body to ease his progress as he glances back to make sure he's on track. Another grunt partners with a shake of his head to get hair out of his face, having an easier time than a man his size seemingly should but that doesn't make it an easy time. ]
It better fit... there's no way they built it inside this room, right?
[ Is... is that possible? So much on this ship already strains credulity so surely this shouldn't serve as his breaking point. Confidence is key, and he continues inching that heavy dresser until it passes the threshold into the hall, rewarding himself for his progress with a heavy breath and a straightening back up to his full height. Hands find his hips as he looks it over, then glances both left and right down the corridor as if one direction will somehow appear more appealing. ]
Damn... No idea who decided it needed to be this heavy. Maybe... maybe I can just put it in the room next door or something.
no subject
( This guy's pretty tough. Moving an armoire probably isn't a huge deal, but still, it deserves some attention. Strong arms flex as if Noctis has done this before and with far heavier objects, and his confidence has more impact on Jonas than on the bloated piece of furniture.
The armoire is old-fashioned. Plain. Very familiar.
How many times has he crossed this thing's path? Not this one exactly, but one so similar to it that it makes his skin crawl. )
My... My plan kinda died when you got it outta there, so let's go with that. Uh, maybe this room—
( Striding ahead—and away from that thing—he peers at the neighbouring door. Knocking, waiting a moment, and hearing nothing, Jonas tries the keypad and Noctis' last blockade opens with a faint pneumatic hiss. )
Seriously, sorry again about this. Want me to push you while you push it or something? I could fan you and give you gentle encouragement?
no subject
I agreed, right? It's a bigger favor if you don't touch me... just let me know if I push it too close to the wall.
[ Jonas's anxiety is filling the space, not triggering his own, at least, but making itself impossible to ignore. Still, even now, he resists the powerful urge to directly address it. Instead he moves to the dresser's side, deciding to push instead of pull to make his life considerably easier. ]
Geeze... is that one like your room? Or is it the other style? 'Cause this might stand out...
Ahh, never mind, I don't care... Look, I can finish up if you wanna' head back to yours.
(no subject)