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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
[ Who doesn't know what bread is? The same kind of person who doesn't know what a chicken egg is, perhaps? ... possibly, that would be fair. ]
You're not gonna' set this place on fire, right? [ The barbless question is asked with that lilting tone of his, relaxed again, even if he keeps a quiet eye on Jonas when he turns. He looks better. Sounds better. He's not ignorant or prideful enough to assume that's due to his actions, but he does find it in himself to hope he didn't make this much of his recovery last longer than it should've. ]
They've got rolls... Rolls and regular sliced bread, so we can pick. It's not too brown or anything.
no subject
Would an alarm go off? Would they stand around yelling and swinging their arms like characters in The Sims? Would it start engulfing the rest of the kitchen? Sounds kind of nice when he thinks about it. Burning something down. Getting angry and breaking something.
Blinking at a dial on the front of the oven range, wide-eyed Jonas reaches forward to turn it. An element on the black surface lights up, but doesn't look hot or... on really. But if the vent turning on with it is any indication, they should be good to go.
Maybe it's one of those fancy induction ones that rich people buy. Or it's alien technology that's going to burn their faces off. )
Uh, rolls for sure, though. We're in business here, so we can just grab a pan and get some of this going. ( Pointing past Noctis who's secured their burger buns. ) Can you pass me that spatula? The flat-headed one.
No idea if there are spices to put on these... They might be bland. Hopefully, the cheese will help?
no subject
Besides, he has a feeling it would be worth it to keep Jonas from eating alone. ]
What are you even cooking? The artificial stuff or the beef? [ A moment's hesitation sees his hand hovering over those cooking utensils before he blessedly selects the correct one, passing it over to his new chef. ]
If you're going to send me to look around for salt then fine, but if you want something else you have to be specific. I dunno if they taste salty already.
no subject
Which was a lot, but... more when everything felt good. Or at least better.
Noctis has been helpful to him. Maybe he ought to thank him by doing the best job he can at this. Are eggs good on burgers? Probably. )
I'm thinking definitely the beef. ( Onions and garlic would be awesome in this, but he won't push it. He'd rather eat a boring burger now and get one of the Hosts to make him a delicious one later. ) Fake crab meat's good on its own, so... you should try some, actually.
None of the stuff you found is usually salted, though, so, uh... finding some would be good. And... pepper, maybe. ( Once a pan is procured, they're on their way, especially when the surface responds to a blob of oil he pours from a nearby bottle. Sure hope that's not expired. )
no subject
So instead he grunts a confirmation before grabbing those rolls as an afterthought, tossing them onto the island with the rest of the food before he continues his search. Cabinets, cupboards, cabinets–
The furthest drawer from the stove gets another quiet sound out of him, however, rolling it open to be greeted with a row of spices all neatly arranged. More than half are unrecognizable to him, as predicted, but one labeled "sea salt" and another labeled "white pepper" are procured with a little shake of each. ]
Here, I've found some. You might wanna' check the rest. Does "cardamom" go in them?
no subject
One that turns quickly into an odd frown. )
Cardamom? No. No, uh, definitely not. I think that only goes on bread with sugar, or something. Like cinnamon. ( None of us is as dumb as all of us. ) Salt and pepper though...
( Plopping beef into the pan, refusing to use his bare hands to do so, he forms the patties sloppily with pokes of the spatula. Then, he liberally applies the salt and dusts the patties with the pepper. Soon, burgers are sizzling, cheese is being hastily applied at the last possible moment, and the rest— )
Now that I'm thinking about it, we probably should've tried to find some veggies. Lettuce. Tomatoes. You following me?
no subject
It's not that he's unwilling to appear ignorant in front of Jonas, but more that he's experiencing a certain fatigue with hearing himself question every ingredient or reference that the other boy invokes. So he simply inclines his head in a nod, silent as he turns back to his examination of the rest of the spices while Jonas pokes at their lunch. ]
I pulled some out, didn't I? You can work with some of those, but... I'll pass. The only red thing that belongs on a burger is ketchup, and lettuce is a miss.
[ Welcome to a four-year-old's palate.
Curiosity gets the better of him while Jonas's back is turned, however, meandering back over to the island to investigate the crab meat. "Artificial". How good can it be? A careful sniff tells him it more than just looks like karlabos strips, but still when he fishes one out it takes him a few seconds to work up the courage to take a small clandestine bite.
... sweet. A bit savory. Damn. ]
no subject
( Cuts himself off as he glances back at Noctis trying the crab. There's something so normal about it that it earns a sniff from him, mildly amused. This guy's pretty endearing. Sassy, though—and that's never been a bad thing. )
Guess we're doing a classic cheeseburger with zero interruptions. Screw vitamins; who needs 'em?
( One alarmingly fantastic feature he discovers about the stovetop is that once it detects the burgers are well done, it beeps. And when he doesn't immediately address the beep, it beeps again and switches off entirely. Miraculous. )
Whoa. Okay, okay—Oh, my God, my mouth is watering like crazy. Buns— ( Screw finding plates, he's going to set their buns on the stainless steel counter beside Noctis and assemble the two burgers side by side. He'll eat right off of this thing; he couldn't give less of a flying fuck. )
Done. I think. I mean, they're for sure done. Right?
Wait, you said ketchup. Was there any in the fridge? Or, like, some other sauces?
no subject
Why are you asking me? Aren't you the one cooking them?
[ Almost immediately when he realizes Jonas has turned around to address their rolls, which upon inspection appear too small for the meat patties to handle but with which he can't manage to find a flaw, he's stuffing that bit of crab back into the packaging. Like he wants to hide that he was trying it... or more appropriately like he wants to hide that he was enjoying it at all. ]
I wasn't checking for those, hold on... [ It's a good distraction from how hungry that one nibble has suddenly made him, easing back over to the fridge to pull it wide and scan its interior.
Mayonnaise, mustard... ah, there in the back–
A squeeze tube of ketchup is procured with a little shake to make sure it's still relatively liquid and not somehow solidified to the sides of its container, his thumb popping the lid for yet another sniff. Good. ]
Here, there's other stuff in here. You guys know about mayo too, yeah?
no subject
I don't know if their mayo is the same or way different from what I used to eat, but man, I like the way you think. Bring it all out, let's get this on the go.
( Hungry. It's hard to think about anything else, including his impolite orders. He's inadvisedly adding another piece of cheese to his bottom bun, offering Noctis the same by crumbling it into bits like a Neanderthal instead of cutting it with a knife. )
I am actively drooling right now. This burger's gonna disappear in, like, three seconds, seriously. If you don't wanna taint your first impression of me, look away.
no subject
Hah?
You can't say it's my first impression and then say how I'm acting is "typical". Either we know each other or not. If you asked me... this is maybe your twelfth impression.
[ A butter knife is dug out of a drawer and clatters onto the island near the mayonnaise as he instead goes right for the ketchup, squirting it on top of the cheese Jonas has destroyed without any comment or care. Then he slaps it together, keeping a tight hold on that bread as he lifts it for inspection.
Ugly. And it smells delicious.
His first bite is just as careful as it was with the crab, carefully chewing the meat to ensure he gets every bit of the flavor before he swallows. ]
... wow. You said this is "beef"? From what animal? That's way too good...
no subject
( As soon as Noctis is done assembling his burger, Jonas quickly blobs mayo, mustard, and ketchup in a saucy mess, plapping his bun down on top. The only thing that'd make this better is relish—and the deeply criticized lettuce—but he couldn't give less of a shit about it at this point, almost shaking as he lifts the creation to his mouth.
Taking a bite is a punch to the jaw. He hasn't eaten in what quite literally feels like forever, and tears prick at his eyes again as he slumps against the counter to enjoy it.
There's barely any talking apart from Noctis'. )
Yeah, it's— ( Coughing as he almost chokes on how big of a bite he just took, he wipes mayo from the corner of his mouth and tries again. ) It's from a cow. They're like... big four-legged animals that "moo." They're black and white, or... I guess sometimes brown.
( Another bite has him talking through a full mouth, muffled by the bun. ) I'll try to find you a picture, but... they're kinda cute, especially the fluffy ones, so it's probably best to just stay blind to it.