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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
Though from what little he knows of his past, Yi's losses had not usually been so violent - but they were no less meaningful to him. To be so wracked by anguish, robbed of that moment of clarity and relief by something that seems little more than an accident...
Ji's exhaustion with life had been born of an eternity of isolation. Yi, a fervent, bright soul, still young, to his perception - though everyone is young to his perception - wishes to live. They have lived very different lives.
But, still, he considers his words carefully. He spoke truly to him then, when he said he never felt the need to save anyone, that he harbored no grand ambitions of any kind, but...
I wonder how many more years I will be able to converse with him.
Compassion, perhaps...to think of someone else...he can manage that much. For someone who has tasted just the smallest, bitterest fragment of his loneliness, for the sake of that frail bond that connects them.
It has been so long since he has spoken with any measure of compassion...Does he even know how to do such a thing any more? ]
If you insist that your actions were necessary, then you must have accomplished more than nothing in doing them. You contradict yourself, Yi.
[ His distant expression softens to something less opaque and serene. ]
To be dissatisfied with fate is only natural. So often, the answers that await are painful, unfavorable ones. No matter how much one struggles or tries to divert it, they arrive at an inevitable end.
But you diverged. You intervened to change the fate you yourself had set. By your very actions, you shaped the lives of others.
Will you not take satisfaction from that? Your legacy. The one you broke that promise to...surely, they survived you?
[ Or, perhaps, to view it more terribly, were left behind. As Lear, departing from this world, left him behind so long ago.
Lear had never promised eternal companionship to him, but Ji had felt the loss. And he had kept his promise, until eternity came to an end... ]
no subject
he has heard those arguments in every manner and every permutation, ever since he was a child. they had poisoned his relationship with his devout parents, and they had driven a wedge between himself and his sister. perhaps he should understand. Fusang had saved and preserved his life, wrapped around his heart (no, no, he would argue—it had been eigong that saved him)… he had spoken with Lear within the roots of the Primordial Tree itself. he had held in his hand the bomb so powerful that it could topple the unassailable ambitions of the greatest tyrant of their history.
he knows that the mentor who saved his life and brought him under her wing to that world of science he had always yearned for had also destroyed their entire species. yet, after all of this experience and knowledge, it is still so difficult for him to accept that he had been wrong all along. he had trained his eyes, unwavering, on the harsh light of scientific innovation—had it blinded him to everything else?
his anger dies down, but it doesn’t fade. it cools. his eyes narrow in a sort of remote, callous rationality that is far more characteristic of him. ) If we had never pursued the Eternal Cauldron Project at all, the apemen would have remained safely on the Pale Blue Planet. We still would have failed to cure Tianhuo… just far faster. ( his brow furrows, wrinkling his nose. ) That is why it was both necessary and pointless.
( so much cruelty and pain, suffered by both of their species. and for what?
of course, that is what ji hones in on now.
New Kunlun had fallen into disrepair. eigong’s experiments with ji’s cells had failed, resulting in monstrous mutation in those that were administered the so-called “treatment.” only the Tao could know how many apemen had been harvested, their bodies fuel for the transmutation forge and their brains woven into the network that gestated tens of thousands of solarians made comatose by Lady Ethereal’s failure—a failure he had forced her into. a nightmare.
and yet—
he grows very still. then, slowly, tension begins to ease from his face, from his small shoulders. it is a relief to think that they survived, yes… though there is also pain, that he feels he will likely never see them again. )
…Yes. ( a quiet admission, but an impactful one. ) Kuafu, Shuanshuan, and the rest of the apemen… I believe they were far enough from New Kunlun to survive. If all went to plan… they should have made it to the Pale Blue Planet.
( his shoulders slump. he feels so, so tired. sharing in a shred of ji’s own unending exhaustion, indeed. )
That boy will do far more good for his people and his world than I ever did for mine. In that… yes. I am satisfied.
( his gaze has fallen, and in the faint, cool light of the ethereal fish flying through the observation deck, he looks back up to ji. yi looks… oddly lost, which is something he’s rarely felt—rarely allowed himself to feel. he’d always wrapped himself up in the self-assurance of his own brilliance, certain that his own plans would see fruit. not just a cure for Tianhuo, but a paradise for solarians to live upon, so far away from their home. arrogant, foolish. he knows better now. )
How does one move on from something like this? ( a pause, then, ) How did you?
no subject
Then by your actions, the wheel turns. We have begun a new era.
[ A strange, morbid mirror of Eigong's last words. Whether he means it to be so - whether he foresaw beyond his own death - he doesn't say.
That mention of Kuafu does not slip his notice, the 'we' deliberate. He had not spoken much to the other Sol, but he had noticed that he and Yi had been inseparable. If he had been sent ahead to the Pale Blue Planet, then the apemen would surely carry the technology of the Solarians with them into the future. What a legacy, that these creatures who had once been used for Solarian longevity would be the ones to inherit their technology.
Surely, Lear was laughing somewhere...
As the light dances upon the deck, as dozens of small creatures flit through space and solid matter as if it was nothing more than a great sea, Ji looks back at him, his ever-present smile unmistakably etched by sorrow. ]
You have experienced being left behind by those who went ahead, to where life and death are no longer of any concern. And you have seen what I chose to cling to in all these years, I believe.
[ He doesn't know about Heng's last words. He is thinking more of his own experiences, the little fragment of time Yi had glimpsed where Lear had chosen to depart; Jietong breathing his bloodied last; countless more departures, with Ji always, always watching on.
Through every era, those who I have cared about always leave me behind.
In five hundred years of slumber, it was impossible for Yi not to have left people behind. ]
Time's flow has quieted the pain of some of those partings, while others are sharp as a blade...But even a sharp blade dulls.
The ceaseless flow of life will move you forward, whether you want it to happen or not. All you can do now is choose which memories you wish to keep close to you like treasures.
[ How does one move on, indeed? It happens, Ji has found, entirely without his consent. As new things came, old things were left behind. That was simply how history worked; to be revealed, to be forgotten, to be unearthed once again in need. He, too, had been a thing forgotten by history. ]
It's not very useful advice, is it? But it is all I can give you. I have never known how to accept such loss as a true follower of the Tao would.
no subject
the guilt he feels at putting his good friend in such a lonely position is just one of so many others, a single star in a constellation, but… perhaps it is for the best. kuafu and shuanshuan at least have one another; he can trust that they will lead this new era, this new civilization, into a bright new day.
if anything, it is what they owed to them, after the cruelty they committed against their people for so many hundreds of years.
in a way, a part of him had been surprised to see lear in ji’s memories, though he supposes it shouldn’t be any surprise at all. of course ji, the Kunlun Immortal, would have had his own story intertwined with that of the solarians’ greatest hero, who had eschewed power and all its temptations to instead retreat into a diplomacy of inaction that would, over time, become religious tenet. strange to think that they both knew the man, though separated by hundreds and hundreds of years; they had both bid farewell to him, as well.
ironically, before that farewell, yi had approached lear with a similar question. “what am I supposed to do?” what way does this path lead? ultimately, he had been right. his heart had known. that’s why it had felt so incredibly, devastatingly easy to make the decision he’d had to make—to send shuanshuan and kuafu ahead, to take the rhizomatic bomb, so see it all through to the end. he had been so calm, even when saying his goodbyes to those who meant the most to him. having experienced the pain of death dozens (if not hundreds) of times while having been denied its release, it was not necessarily death itself that frightened yi. it was that small, haunting chance that the convictions of the pious were wrong. if he would never see heng, or lear, or anyone else who had gone ahead of them in the Great Tao… well, if he did not exist, it wouldn’t necessarily be an unbearable pain to withstand—
except that he is here.
so he will have to learn. of course ji doesn’t have some perfect answer; what yi asks is the very root of the curse that he has born for so long as well. still, the advice he gives him is that which he has drawn together over countless years of personal experience, so yi takes it as it is. after a long moment’s pause, he nods.
in the absence of those they care about, they must rely upon their memories for light and warmth. they were like rays cast from distant suns, having reached them thousands of years after their own mortal deaths. and yet, they were still the very bedrock of life itself.
for a moment, yi stands upon the precipice of saying something. ji’s words have brought the moment to mind, but now he finds himself wondering if it was his place to interject. but if he said nothing now, how many opportunities would he have in the future? )
Ji. There were times, in New Kunlun, where I entered a place beyond space and time in Fusang’s roots. I spoke with Lear there.
( really, they had done more than just speak. defying the linearity of time itself, they had developed the Fangshi combat arts together; there is a reason the way yi fights would remind one of lear. )
After the last time I spoke with him, he departed to return to the Great Tao. But he said we would meet again there. ( he’s silent for a moment, then he sighs, releasing a breath he hasn’t realized until now that he’d been holding. ) I am going to choose to believe him. Even if our reunion is delayed… I will believe that we will see them again, one day.