TDM #1, arc 1.0: we drift like worried fire

[lamentus]

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)

Comments

[fatalis]

[ Tapping his fingers against the bottle, Jayce remains unsure about the meat despite it smelling like something he'd like. All of his recklessness and impulsiveness stops at the kitchen, and he's having a hard time reconciling the look with what he imagines it would taste like.

Jayce is honestly surprised it's edible. ] Yeah? [ A laugh is startled out of him. ] You sound like everyone I knew growing up.

[ Setting the bottle down, Jayce tentatively picks up a bowl, bringing it closer to his face and sniffs it. Unlike his companion, Jayce can't bring himself to eat with his hands because it makes his skin crawl, so he spears a piece of meat with a fork and tries it.

He's... pleasantly surprised. ] So are you familiar with whatever this is? [ Jayce continues to nibble at a corner of the buffalo shank. Flashes of blue and weightlessness crowd into his head as he chews on the meat, thinking about that first night when they'd finally gotten Hextech to work. ] It's pretty good.

[greatestworks]

A man of discerning taste and good sense? [ The lilting tone Phainon has taken with him suggests he's having a little fun at his own expense; the white-haired man takes a cue, spearing a piece of seared meat with his fork, scrutinizing it and hazarding a sniff. ]

Not that different from roasted cloudsheep. Leaner, perhaps-

[ A thought skitters through his mind as though his mind had stepped down on a pond frozen over by an Aidonian winter. Blue and buoyant. Wonder and joy. Innocent. Floating. Phainon's relationship with sleep has ever been a troubled one and now, perhaps, more than ever; he doesn't know the source or cause of that errant imagery, if it's merely the flights of fancy of a tired mind trying to make sense of the sudden reversal of fate.

He blinks hard. Lest he let on that anything is amiss and risk putting off other diners from their meal, he drops a companionable hand on Jayce's shoulder, offering him a proud smile. ] Just desserts for your courage in trying something new, my friend. With a ringing endorsement like that, [ what, 'pretty good'? ] how can I hold back?

[ He winks, grinning around a bite as he chews.

A wooden sword clashes against a bronze gauntlet. A blue sky and a sun on a god's back. His opponent, with golden eyes and a mane of red-tipped blond hair, both radiant and fierce, turns aside his strike-

Phainon turns as though distracted by something else, further down the mess hall, before the disquiet can steal into his face. ]

[fatalis]

Yeah. [ Jayce chuckles, amused. Self-deprecating humor is something Jayce is very familiar with. It's not something he's turned towards himself, but he's used to it because of his partner, who has the habit of poking fun at himself often. Jayce used to correct him, challenge him on it when they were first starting out, but he's come to realize what it means and he's gotten mostly used to his sense of humor. Sometimes, Jayce still pushes back a little if he thinks the comment is a little too mean, but he mostly just rolls his eyes or huffs with laughter. ] I was going to say my mother, but we'll go with what you said. Not that my mother doesn't have discerning taste or good sense.

[ Jayce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and laughing at himself. Readily, he takes the turn in the conversation like the lifeline it is. ]

Cloudsheep? [ Looking down at the bowl, Jayce pouts slightly and jabs it slightly with his fork. Cloudsheep sounds adorable and he doesn't know if he wants to eat something adorable. He just thinks the word buffalo as he's chewing and that helps get rid of the mental image of eating something fluffy.

All of it melts away though as he relives that old memory. It makes his heart race, and he finds himself looking down at the floor just to make sure he's still standing on it. He's brought back into his own body by the hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at the other man, offering him a wary smile in return. ]

Thanks. [ Jayce is slightly embarrassed but he's amused too, laughing as he's winked at. His brows knit together, blinking suddenly against the light of the sun and not the glow of the ones inside the ship. The man he sees doesn't look like anyone he's ever met and he focuses on the arm, the mechanics, before the image is gone, like a projector turned off. ]

What was that? [ Jayce is still shaking the feeling of that image from his head and he looks at the other man, a look of concern softening his confusion. ] Are you okay?

[greatestworks]

[ Reminded of his mother! Chuckling, Phainon had clapped a hand to his chest as though he'd been speared through, but in fairness to Jayce, this is a point in his favor. As someone who thinks back on his own parents, his father's dutiful diligence, his mother's warm pragmatism, with deep fondness and complicated grief, he looks favorably on those who speak kindly of their own parents.

Or, that was the impression.

Phainon's pretense at finding something of sudden interest in the opposite end of the mess hall crumbles when Jayce asks his question. He turns, mildly taken aback. With commendable recovery, he puts on a smile, albeit one that's a little understandably baffled.

Visions of the past... it's not Phainon's first brush with the phenomenon, but not like this. But he's not one of the finest students of the greatest Scholar of Amphoreus for no reason, and he's putting it together with the searching saccades of his eyes. His golden pupils shrink when he realizes: He'd seen something. Which means that thing he saw... was that his? ]

I thought- [ Phainon glances away, his brow creasing, ] I'll sound like I've lost my mind, [ he shakes his head with a hint of incredulous laughter, ] I saw something just now. Everything glowed with a celestial radiance, milky starlight and blue.

Forgive me, it's been a strange and eventful day for all of us.

[fatalis]

[ At least, from Jayce, it is a compliment. He's always had the utmost respect for his mother, especially because raising him alone hadn't been the easiest. Even all her struggles with him aside, she's always been a remarkable woman with more strength than anyone ever realized, himself included. Jayce has been thinking about her a lot lately, too, along with all the other facets of his life that felt so far away since he'd gotten wrapped up in things he never used to care about.

So.

It's a compliment of the highest order.

Jayce offers a smile back, equally confused, because while he's still stumbling through his thoughts, he's trying to make sense of what he just saw and why it felt so familiar even though none of it was. ]

Listen, [ and Jayce laughs, interrupting himself as he interrupts the other man. ] I spent my whole life recovering from someone telling me I wasn't in my right mind once, and the rest of the time obsessing over the same thing I've chased since i was a kid. I won't judge.

[ Listening, he realizes that he's describing the memory Jayce had just been thinking about. It's one he thinks frequently, but it had felt more... powerful than usual, untouched by the melancholy and nostalgia that usually makes it feel dimmer.

So that means... ] And a man? Floating?

That's... I was thinking about that just now. And I saw something too, I think. A fight? A man with yellow and red hair?

[greatestworks]

[ The white-haired stranger turns his attention back to Jayce with an expression that’s… a little complicated. His mouth twitches towards a smile, fond, or something like it, and his laugh is a far cry from the memory, awkward but well-meaning in his attempt to be reassuring. ] –A friend. As is the man in yours, too, I presume.

[ Phainon drapes the fingers of his left hand over his mouth, elbows planted on the table. ] Echoes of the past, but without Oronyx’s prayer or influence…

[ He waves off his own speculation with a wry chuckle, ] I’d beg for the tale of how you and your companion learned to fly, but I fear I’ve come by that knowledge dishonorably. It was not my intention to pry into such a personal matter.

[ If he reads a request in there about his own privacy, well, he’d be right. Glimpsing a warm memory had brought him a spark of joy, but stung right after.

It’ll pass as it always does, but he holds onto that feeling, a reminder. A promise. He motions towards Jayce, then lays his palm over his own heart. ]

Let’s start over. I’m Phainon of Aedes Elysiae. Well met.

[fatalis]

He's my partner. [ That word comes out as easy as breathing. The look on his own face is equally complicated, an unruly tangle of feelings in his chest that he doesn't really know what to do with, the loudest amongst them regret. ]

Oronyx? [ The name isn't familiar to him. If it's a god, or something like it, he wouldn't even if they were from the same place. Jayce has never been religious. His faith had been in magic, in the hopes of bringing it to his home, to the people, so that he could help them. The gods were involved in any of it. ]

Oh, no, it's alright. I don't mind talking about it. [ Jayce does pick up on that cue, for once, so he thinks that maybe diffusing the air with a little backstory for his own might help. ] We'd solved the rune matrix I'd been struggling with for years right before the Enforcers broke down the doors to exile us from the city. [ Jayce laughs, and he feels lighter just thinking about it, younger, too, or maybe it's just unburdened. ] It was still unstable so when it activated, it created that. This area that lifted us up. It took us a few hours to figure out how to get back onto the ground.

Jayce Talis, from Piltover. [ That doesn't sound as nice as Aedes Elysiae. ] Nice to meet you.

[greatestworks]

[ Partner. To some, the word implies a different flavor of relationship than the one Phainon associates with it. He smiles with quiet warmth, thinking of gray hair, an indomitable will, an equally inscrutable sense of humor, and eyes that remind him of the rolling waves of golden wheat fields surrounding his home.

Since he doesn’t hasten to explain about Oronyx, perhaps he’s just more interested in Jayce and his story. Some of the terms he uses as he explains the phenomenon in Jayce’s memory are a little lost on him, yet Phainon listens attentively, nods in encouragement, and when all is said and done, he responds with a gregarious, yet humble: ] Miracle or magic, I suppose it makes little difference. It was a beautiful memory, my lord.

[ And then, in a lapse of formality, he continues with a bright and enthusiastic tone. ]

But names here all sound so exotic and exciting! Traveling the stars is already far exceeding my wildest dreams. Tell me, Lord Jayce, what do you think of all this?

[fatalis]

[ Partner is a word that means a million different things to Jayce. It's changed over time, and right now, it's right on the cusp of another one, teetering over the edge, something Jayce doesn't really want to think about right now, because that makes it complicated and Jayce doesn't know where to begin with that, nor does he want to yet.

Instead, he lets that word sink into the back of his mind — Oronyx — so that his curiosity doesn't keep gnawing on it and he talks about that night his whole life changed. It's a really personal memory, but Phainon already saw it and Jayce doesn't mind talking about Viktor, or the things they've accomplished together. It's all the rest that he struggles with. ] I think to me, it was a little bit of both. It feels that way anyway.

[ That's completely sappy but Jayce can't bring himself to care. ]

Just Jayce, please. I don't have a title. [ The posters plastered with his face back home might imply otherwise, but his house was still at the bottom of the barrel before he and Viktor created Hextech. And even then, the clans hadn't really moved him up not that he wanted to be. ] But this place? [ He looks around, and that boyish excitement from earlier is worming its way back into his expression and into his voice. ] I want to know more. Everything. [ Jayce laughs, a hint of disbelief and wonder in it. ] Going up to the stars wasn't anything I'd ever dreamed either, but now we're here and we just have to... figure out what to do with it.

It's exciting.

[greatestworks]

[ If he’s being honest - and he’s not being dishonest with Jayce, if not… forthcoming - Phainon isn’t so sure all this is real. That he isn’t just dreaming, comforting himself by spinning a wild fantasy about sailing the stars with a mysterious cast of unfamiliar faces.

It might be why his eyes drop to the table as he listens his cheek resting against his palm, a smile sitting comfortably on a face long used to it. He lifts them again, and his grin broadens, as though Jayce’s enthusiasm has infected him anew. ] Tell me about Piltover, my new friend.

We’ve the whole cosmos to explore, and I’d hear of your origins, if you don’t mind. What kind of place is it?

[fatalis]

Piltover? [ Jayce furrows his brows for a moment, thinking back to that city that was home and wasn't, all at the same time. ] They call it the City of Progress. They have a whole day to celebrate it. [ He laughs. ] I gave a speech on it once. It was terrible.

[ Despite his pride, Jayce knows his own weaknesses and giving speeches was one of them. Terrible might have been an understatement; disaster fits better, because in one speech, Jayce had managed to let everyone down for different reasons and he's been trying to make up for that every minute since. ]

But it's pretty. Tall buildings around sprawling gardens, a river cutting through it. It's a place of innovation, and I was trying to innovate more, bring magic back. I succeeded.

[ At what cost? ]

[greatestworks]

[ Speeches. Phainon’s answering chuckle is too sympathetic to not stem from firsthand experience. He’s only glad for Professor Anaxagoras’ guidance, or he might have never managed the presence and strength for public speaking and debate. ]

You speak as though the miracles of the gods are a distant, lost art.

[ And Phainon speaks of magic as though it’s some gift of tangible deities, still involved in human matters.

There’s a cultural disconnect at play here, for sure, but Phainon is an eager audience, engaged more in listening to his story than he is in appeasing his (not inconsiderable) appetite.

Part of that is because he’s wary of the meal’s effects, but mainly, he’s interested in Jayce. ]

[fatalis]

Magic? [ Jayce pauses, frowns, and mulls that comment over. ] I thought it was a miracle, but it was outlawed in the city. Talking about it was enough to get you in trouble. Actually doing it? [ His face twists up in something that's frustrated and a little upset. ] That used to be enough to get you exiled. I almost was, once.

[ And that's with just the magic part. The explosion, even though he hadn't caused it, might have gotten him much worse. Jayce tries not to think about that. ]

That's not true where you're from, I take it.