TDM #2, arc 1.2: as she bends toward the sun

[lamentus]

❝I sing this to be free
I sing for you and me
I sing across the sky
To find a place of life
Where all of this is true
I bring this into you❞

BUFF

For those who are bonded to the Fathomless, they will, one night, wake up from a startling dream in which they remembered a memory they had forgotten, or had glossed over.

DEBUFF

Bonded of the Empty Machine will experience insatiable hunger this month, and will never feel satisfied no matter how much they eat.

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! The other Wayfarers are currently on planet Epsilon-355, you may join them at any time!"

And so, you take a shuttle down to the planet; an orb of a nearly unbroken gold landmass and pale pink clouds scudding across the surface. On the journey, the pilot Host recites for you why this planet was picked: it is a possible match for a planet mentioned in a story about the Last Pilgrim, one of the most enigmatic of the Edicts. If there are scraps of the Song to be found, it may be in the path they traveled there.

PLANET TYPE: arid world
ORBITAL CHARACTERISTICS: close orbit to native sun, no eccentricities in orbit
ROTATION PERIOD: 31 hour days, 405 day year
NATURAL RESOURCES: iron-rich silicate, limonite, titanium oxides, sodium, nickel
BREATHABLILITY INDEX: safe for humanoid respiration
WEATHER PATTERNS: occasional sandstorms, very little rain
LANDMASS: 98% of planet
AVERAGE TEMPERATURE: 31c
SURFACE GRAVITY: average
BIOSIGNATURES: indicates a narrow range of native life
ARTIFICIAL STRUCTURES: none found

REFLECT

On-planet, activity is bustling.

Research & Archives pinpointed a clue in the story that would make finding the Last Pilgrim's trail easier to find: a pathway of bones that the caravan traveled upon. It is unknown how long this pathway is, or even if it still exists, depending on how long ago that story came from.

Science & Engineering, meanwhile, concluded that the golden sand of this planet is wholly unlike the sand of other deserts, made up of not just silicon dioxide and fossilized marine life, but of many inert chemicals and minerals, a scattered rainbow of compositions. Epsilon-355 was, they concluded, at one point the closest planet to its sun, and that has sown a strange field upon it: the golden ash and viscera of a star's fiery tempest and the powdered remains of a destroyed moon. It is, quite literally, made from stardust and moondust. The glass that litters the sands was put there by chaotic lashings of star plasma, whips of heat so intense they penetrated through the atmosphere and raised burned lines of melted sand over its surface. Luckily, the orbit of the planet has since taken it too far away from its star to do such damage again.

After long-range scans, Wayfarers were able to find signs that pointed to a large deposit of inert biological material that lay to the north-west.

As you pack up your camp, the weather is clear, and the sky is bright. For most Wayfarers, adjusting to the 31-hour cycle of Epsilon-355 has been difficult, but midday naps and staggered sleeping schedules have made it easier. The sand has proven to be a constant irritant when the breeze picks up, but the creatures largely prefer to hide, and there have been no more sightings of the barren-racers. It seems they travel only alongside the sand-whales, and the sand-whales only emerge after a storm.

With all of your supplies stocked on people's backs and the hover-sleds the Hosts have brought for easier travel, you set off to the north-west.



After the storm, the glass outcroppings had been scrubbed clear, and they still remain that way. The path north-west takes you through something of a valley, bordered on both sides by sharp juts of the glass, enormous spikes just waiting to impale anybody who sets a foot wrong. As Wayfarers move through this valley, the reflections feel like they are watching you, but you can never quite catch any coherent image in them outside of your own selves.

Until, that is, you happen to glance at another, and see a vision of something you regret. A past action you took, a decision you made, a fate you changed. It's a static image, like a photograph reflected in the glass's surface, and it does not fade when somebody else looks at it.

They all remain like specters lining the path you are taking, watching your every move.

DEBUT

After two days of travel, you find them.

At first, the Wayfarers find the trail of bones mentioned in the scrap of story you're following. It is just as described: a pathway of enormous bones, presumably of the last titans the story refers to. They are neatly laid in a winding pathway over and between the rolling sand dunes, bleached white by sand and time. Most of them are meters long: humerus bones three meters long lining the path like a border, rib bones twice as tall as a person creating elegant fan shapes.

On the side of the path, greater remains may occasionally be seen. Enormous titanic skeletons half-buried in the sand, watching the pathway, like they simply laid down and died as eternal sentinels.



Astute observers notice that the skulls are all pointed in the same direction, and so, that is the direction you follow, until finally, you find life.

You hear them before you see them; music and laughter carrying through the light breeze. And when the Wayfarers crest a massive dune, you look down upon a valley where there winds a serpentine path, and upon it walks a long caravan of people. You catch up to them, and as you walk alongside them to get to the front of the line in hopes of finding a leader, they all greet you warmly, like old friends that simply have not met yet.

There is a brightly painted wooden wagon with a group of old women in the back, their faces stained with red ochre, their eyes blind, and their mouths laughing. A young boy wearing red pearls leads a metal hover-craft with a pilgrim painted on the side, and a pack of young children in aquatic water-suits run with him, giggling bubbles into the water in their helmets. Young women of dark skin and magnificent wings trail in a line behind a four-legged robot, singing helio-cycle poems and carrying bowls of vivid fruit. You identify what must be the lapho-beasts from the story: huge quadrepeds built like a gorilla with hooked beaks, the size of a three-storey building, plodding along at a sedate pace, their backs lined with rolled up tents, and barrels of grain and water that sloshes with every one of their thumping steps. A small group of tall entities with featureless faces and elegant robes walk along a pair of rock-skinned hexapods. A squat creature with a head shaped like a mushroom dances alongside them all, strumming music on a long instrument that emits color and light with every note. Everywhere you look, there is music, and laughter, and celebration.



It takes a while to get to the front, but there, you meet the ringleaders of this pilgrimage. The first is a tall robotic entity with limbs as thin and straight as sticks, a narrow rectangular face, a bright red woven cloak, and a hat that resembles a dǒulì, wide and conical. Her name is Elegance, and she introduces you to her wife, Rēza, a short woman who resembles an upright moth, with large furred wings and compound eyes, her antenna waving in the breeze. The scarf around her neck and mouth is of many colors, and looks charmingly handmade, a little rough around the edges.

They tell you that this caravan has been traveling for thirty days, and they are not far from their objective. The unknown temple, they believe, lays little more than a week's travel away. Everybody you see has come here from local systems, hoping to find something in the Last Pilgrim's footsteps. Thousands of pilgrimages have been doing the same, one after the other, for eons.

Everybody, they say, finds something different. Something you did not know you needed until that very moment.

If you ask them if the Song is to be found there, Rēza laughs, and says they do not know. But perhaps, if you need it that badly, it will be what you find?

Elegance and Rēza are happy to have you travel with the caravan, and encourage you to meet with everyone. They also think it would only be appropriate for you to help with the caravan's various ventures: the story-tellers are trying to compose an epic poem to mark their trip, and the hunters are catching local flora and fauna to stretch out their rations. Or, you can join the sand skimmers, racing on their boards with brightly colored sails taking them through the dunes, scouting ahead for an oasis to seek more water.



Medical, perhaps, might be asked to help with desert-given injuries, sand rashes or injuries from the bone pathway. Engineers might be approached to help with the sand stuck in the joints of mechanical entities. Research & Archives might be pulled into hearty discussions about the story set on this planet.

FIRESIDE

When dusk begins to fall, the caravan draws to a stop, and they begin to make camp.

The Wayfarers do the same, setting up your tents and supplies. The carvan sets up in a series of circles, some small and contained to family groups, others large to hold dozens of people. Silverthorn is gathered for small fires in the middle of the circles, and many set about making dinner. Soon, the smells of smoke and dried meat fill in the air, stews bubbling with vegetables and foraged Firelight Brush roots, Speckled Runners turning slowly on spits to roast. Grain is pulled from barrels and pounded into powder on wide, flat rocks, mixed with scant water supplies to make a bread that is nonetheless fluffy and pale yellow once its dark crust has been broken open.

The caravan gladly shares their supplies with the Wayfarers with no expectation of the same in return, though it would certainly be polite. The lapho-beasts lay down so that their burdens may be taken off their backs, and slumber noisily next to the circles, curled almost entirely around some smaller ones.



Once dinner is served, the caravan turns to the members of the Theorem's crew, and begs: tell us a story.

You see, they have been traveling for a month, and they have already told each other all the stories they know. Stories from their own lives, stories that they were once told about others. Here, in this desert, the only currency worth anything is stories, and they are all eager for new ones. Is that not the domain of the Last Pilgrim? Is it not an honor in their name, to share stories of progress, of journeys, and of learning?

Children crowd around you eagerly, old men and women with sparks in their eyes lean in close, and the light-making music-playing creature of before hushes everyone, readying the crowd to listen to whatever story you choose to tell.

Or perhaps you are more content to listen as other circles share the stories they have told already, finding new details to highlight or new questions to ask. Either way, a lot of tales are being told around these fireplaces, and it would be wise to listen to them.

GLIMPSE

You spend the next week traveling.

It's not easy. On one day there is another sandstorm, and the caravan has to hunker down and wait it out. The following day is spent avoid the sand-whales and the barren-skimmers, but luckily, they don't go near the path of bones. You make friends with people in the caravan, you share stories over spiced drinks and good bread. You help where you can, and in return, the caravan shares everything they have with you.

You learn that they are here chasing a story: a rumor that visiting the temple at the end of this pilgrimage will grant them something they want. It does not cure illness or bestow riches, they say, but it gives you something you never knew you needed until that very moment. Some of the caravan have nothing besides the clothes on their backs, and some of them are wealthy, and some of them are seeking meaning. Some of them are from Alliance space, others are not.

A week later, Elegance and Rēza call the Wayfarers to the front of the caravan. You will have first honor of cresting the next row of sand dunes to catch the first glimpse of the temple. And as you scramble up the dune and peak its crest, you see it in the distance:



A long, almost mountain-like range of sand dunes, taller than any you've seen so far. Beyond them, the pale purple sky is lit up with fractal reflections in every color; atmospheric blue and x'enuda pink, the same orange as the optics of a robot family in the caravan, the gentle gold of the Theorem's shield.

Whatever is beyond that dune-range, it is giving up a spectacular light show.

They say it will take another day to get there, but for today, you will stop at an oasis.



The presence of water has allowed tall canyons to form around its exterior, so you must descend downward to find the shady oasis. The water is a perfect aqua blue, so clear you can see the very bottoms of the shallow pools. Here, there is life different from the tough, scrubby plants you encountered among the dunes: plant-life whose roots are able to draw in water from the pools, crowded around the edges of them in small clusters of orange and red leaves, white flowers peeking out among them.

First, the caravan must take enough water to fuel itself. But after that, anybody is free to take a dip, to bathe themselves or merely to enjoy the cool water.

If you do, you'll find yourself curiously refreshed, like you've just gotten the first decent night's sleep in a while. It may even cure minor wounds, and ease the aches of travel.

Tomorrow, you will finally find the temple that the Last Pilgrim visited.

(CODE)

Comments

QUESTIONS

[lamentus]

faq ✦ plaintext info doc ✦ plaintext tdm/event doc ✦ flora & fauna discoveries

[fessus]

This log is incredible and I'm so excited!!

And I have to ask on behalf of this idiot -- can we expect any fish in the oasis? If so, what is the likelihood of being able to snag a fishing rod from a fellow traveler?

TOPLEVEL DIRECTORY

[lamentus]

Link your toplevel here, and make sure you label whether you're a new or returning player!

Lilias Hollow | Pathfinder TTRPG OC | Newbie

[demandsatisfaction]

Toplevel here!

Lilias Hollow | Pathfinder TTRPG OC

[demandsatisfaction]

[For the past few years of her life, Lilias has been a wanderer—travelling from job to job, mystery to mystery, treasure to treasure. She traversed much of Varisia’s coast in that time, and imagined herself relatively worldly after all she’d done and seen.

Coming here has thoroughly shattered that illusion.

Within hours of waking up in the medbay of that gigantic starship, she is aboard a shuttle on its way down to the surface of the arid alien world the majority of the Wayfarers are already exploring, a packed bag at her side and a newfound sense of awe settled over her like a mantle. The entire tapestry of the night sky is now hers to explore, and while her anger at being pulled here so abruptly has not entirely receded, she’ll be damned if she wastes her time sitting around.]

I. DEBUT —

[After days of suffering through the hot, sandy search for the fabled pathway of bones, Lilias is much relieved by the gay reception of the caravan. She’d grown used to an atmosphere of hunkering down and soldiering on during the journey through the endless sands; the music-filled, celebratory air of the travellers they find makes her feel almost human again.

It’s still damnably hot, of course, and she hasn’t felt clean since almost the very moment she stepped out of the shuttle, but conversations with the travellers do much to take her mind off of things. She speaks freely with anyone who greets her, happy to speak of her world and her life in it to fill the long hours of travel. But the ways and technologies of these people are strange to her, and she finds she has little to offer in way of repayment for extended aid.

Eventually, she volunteers to scout out the road ahead of the slow-moving procession. With the sand-skimming conveyances these people use, the job promises to be exhilarating. There is only one problem; she has no experience piloting anything more advanced than a horse-drawn cart, and that means she will need to buddy-up with someone who can actually drive.

But another pair of eyes will still be useful, right?]

II. FIRESIDE — cw: animal death

[At night, back at the caravan, Lilias can be found at the fireside, enjoying spiced drink and freshly-cooked food. Once again, since she has no facility as a cook herself, she will need to pay her way through other means. Fortunately, all the locals seem interested in just now are stories.

After some coaxing, she eventually consents to tell a tale of her own. She is no great storyteller; her telling is factual and to the point, with some meandering as she recalls the various details. But still, the tale gets told.

It is about a little boy who lived in terror of the goblin living in his closet. Every night, the goblin would emerge to terrorize him, until his crying and the barking of his dog would bring his father thundering into the room. After finding no sign of the fabled goblin, the father grew impatient with his son, and one night, he ignored the howling and barking instead of coming to investigate.]

Then there was a shrill yelp from the dog, and the cries turned to screams. [Lilias takes a small sip from her drink, seemingly oblivious to the stares of the caravan members listening to her story.] The father burst into his son’s room to find the little dog dead on the floor, and a goblin atop his son, savaging him with its teeth.

III. GLIMPSE —

[By the time they reach the oasis, Lilias is more desperate for a bath than she can remember ever being before. The desert sand has worked its way into every nook and cranny and resisted all her attempts at keeping tidy. Despite the lack of privacy afforded by the oasis’s limited size and the horde of people converging upon its waters, she cannot resist the urge to strip down and bathe away the dust of the road.

She takes some time to find at least some semblance of privacy: a rocky outcropping that blocks line of sight from much of the oasis, at least until one walks right up to it. With that accomplished, she sheds the pale, billowy layers she’d borrowed to contend with the desert sun, and dunks herself entirely into the cool water. The streams she’s used to run far colder than this, but after baking in the sun all day, it feels like heaven, and she sighs with relief.

Sadly, now is not the time or place for a leisurely soak. She begins the process of scrubbing every inch of herself with a handy rag, and she is so intent upon this task that she doesn’t even notice immediately should someone passing nearby actually stop—perhaps to take a second look at the dark tattoos scrawled over most of her body, which seem to writhe subtly in the corner of one’s eye. Only then will she glance at her visitor, pausing to spear them with a meaningful stare.]

Do you mind…?

IV. WILDCARD —

[As always, I’m happy to toss ideas around! You can find me at Sporelett. Also, you can check Lilias’s info page for first impressions or anything else.]

I. Debut

[mikoshi]

[ Something extremely amusing about constantly being stuck playing chauffeur for women. Luckily, unlike Claire, this dame isn't carrying an assault rifle to shoot at fellow racers.

'Cause this ain't a race. It's just scouting. Get your head in the right game, Vincent. ] 'K, so, what's your tolerance for sudden, sharp turns? You get motion sick easily, or... ? [ Best to ask before pulling the Nomad tricks.

But damn! Does he want to. Gotta see what this baby can do. ]

Alucard | Castlevania: Nocturne -- considering The Sorrowweld

[cryptsleeper]

Debut
[The bones are amazing.

This has been an unusual set of circumstances.  Alucard does not like that he is without his ability to shift forms, to run faster, fight harder, to be more than human.  He chafes at the forced changes upon him, and he knows it has made him irritable to be around in these first few days of acclimation.

But for all of it, there is wonder in his eyes at the remains.  They are impossible.  They are real.  They are here, laid low in the dirt for centuries.  In three hundred years, he has seen nothing like them.  For that and that alone, all of the irritation is worth it.

If the goal here is to document, to record, to make new knowledge, then there is no reason not to pause for at least a few moments and create a quick field drawing of the giant ribcage that they are passing through.  His hand is quick, his eyes are keen, and...there's noise.

He looks up, frowning.]

Did that come from ahead of us, or from the bones themselves?

Fireside
[Alucard may not be able to contribute as a cook here and now, but the dhampir has some knowledge of how caravan life is meant to work.  Sypha spoke of her traveling life with the Speakers not infrequently, and later on the village of Belmont became a safe stopping point for those same Speaker caravans to restock.  What struck him at the time was not the sense of community, but the way that every traveler inherently knew what role they were to play.  Some immediately went for water, others focused on the horses, a few seemed to know where to barter for food and the going rate.  

It is no so different here and now with this caravan, one willing to adopt strangers for at least a little while.  It is also why he has come to be the person standing beside a giant stew pot, ladling out something that smells of roots and herbs and salt and just a little bit of spice.  There's a thin frown on his face as he places the ladle back into the pot.]

I think this is beginning to run low.  How many people are left in this queue?

Glimpse
[To travel fully as a man and not as a dhampir is more exhausting than Alucard expected.  Not that he believed it might be easy - he has dealt with deserts and knows how harsh they can be - but the practical reality of it all did not prepare him for how much everything fully aches once an opportunity presents itself to fully relax.  It is why he has been sitting on the same rock for the past three hours, letting his feet and legs soak in the water.  

The dhampir has attempted the common politeness of ensuring his feet are downstream from others as to not make the water too disgusting with what he is personally calling week old desert foot.  That doesn't mean he isn't mindful of others when they approach though, looking up from his own thoughts.]

--Are we being told to move out?

Wildcard
[Feel free to DM me to figure out something more specific!]

fireside.

[handfast]

[ hak glances at the stewpot, then back out at the line in front. he doesn't have shin-ah's sharp eyesight but even he can put two and two together. ]

Too many for what's left.

[ and he hasn't even eaten yet? this simply won't do. there's no way he's going to skip eating if he can help it. he sets down a small tray of freshly washed bowls, then looks out into the distance. ]

Need me to go hunting? Adding meat'll fill them up more than water and leaves.

jiaoqiu | honkai: star rail

[flavourtown]

d e b u t

[ The story had said that pilgrimages could be found here, and yet, when they find signs of life -- when laughter and music hit the range of his hearing for the first time -- Jiaoqiu finds himself surprised nonetheless. He has not spent extensive time in deserts, but this one was harsh, ill-suited for those who had no protection against the sun and the sandstorms. It did not seem like a planet that one wanted to spend extensive time upon, let alone go looking for anything profound.

But here they are.

Jiaoqiu walks next to what he can only assume is a lapho-beast, its cavernous breathing loud to his hearing. His Support pack and cooking cauldron are strapped to his back, alongside bunches of drying native leaves hanging off straps. He told himself he could do this, but-- it's a struggle. His damaged shoulder and chest muscles have been complaining for hours, and though he pulls up a polite, unruffled smile for anybody that passes near, he cannot hide the droop of his vulpine ears and tail, the pallor of his skin despite the heat. And yet, he's too stubborn to put the cauldron on a hover-sled, so he just tells himself to deal with it.

As he falls in alongside another Wayfarer, a pack of kids run past, laughing, kicking up sand in their wake. Jiaoqiu half-raises a hand to protect his blind eyes, before remembering the white blindfold he wears. Useful as eye protection, if nothing else. ]

Remarkable that they're managing to maintain such good spirits, isn't it? [ He sounds somewhere between amused, weary, and wistful. ] We've been here for a month, too, and I'm about ready to build my own spaceship just to get away from all this sand.

f i r e s i d e

[ When they settle down for the night, Jiaoqiu has to take ten minutes just to recover. His muscles are still screaming when he picks himself up, but he's got a job to do.

He makes his way around the camp, talking with various pilgrims. They all have different supplies that they brought with them -- grains of various kinds, small amounts of meats and vegetables and fruits kept in stasis chests -- but many of them, like the Wayfarers, have largely been relying on what can be found on the planet itself. Jiaoqiu has been doing the same, finding ways to cook the local animals and plants, taste-testing everything that's edible.

And so, inspired by a comment a Wayfarer had made last week, Jiaoqiu winds up cooking a dish with the cactus (called Silverthorn, according to a pilgrim). Set up at a campfire, with a small group to his left trading songs and people to his right laughing over a ribald joke a mechanical entity had just made, Jiaoqiu starts dishing out food on wooden and ceramic plates. The cactus flesh has only been lightly cooked, grilled alongside tomatoes and lime juice. Alongside it are fluffy scrambled eggs, grilled Speckled Runner meat kebabs, and wedges of the citrus fruit that can be found under one of the tougher scrub plants.

In the middle of dishing up, Jiaoqiu hears the pilgrims entreat a nearby Wayfarer for a story. He thanks his lucky stars that he's busy-- he doesn't really have many nice stories to share. Instead, he slants an amused smile at the unlucky Wayfarer. ]

Well? Go on; our hosts have been more than generous enough to merit a small story or two.

g l i m p s e

[ Apparently they'd been treated to quite the sight: Jiaoqiu hadn't been able to share in it himself, but he'd nonetheless enjoyed the appreciative gasps, and the explanation of the fractured light above the sand dunes, marking where this mysterious temple was.

Mostly, he's just desperate to get himself into the water. Sand has been clogging his fur for weeks, it's horrid.

Still, he waits patiently while the pilgrimage takes the water it needs. Only once he has been assured that they're finished does he carefully make his way down to the oasis, one hand on the rock wall to guide himself. Most of the other Wayfarers are helping the pilgrimage store water, but Jiaoqiu still finds one rock pool set far apart from the others, hoping for some privacy. It's the only reason he feels okay enough to untie his blindfold, sightless orange eyes staring down into the water. He strips down to just his pants, boots and jacket and shirt laid neatly on the dry rock alongside the pool.

He knows he must look a dreadful sight; that's why he aimed for privacy. Jiaoqiu has taken great pains to not talk about his recent history. The enormous claw marks over his chest are likely still a livid red despite months of healing, and the bitemark that covers his shoulder, upper pectoral, and back is still black from the damage of borisin toxin. Where his veins are closest to the skin, they're red and burned looking; the effects of the poison he'd drank. He'd lost a lot of weight during his stay in hospital, though he's starting to put it back on. He eases himself down into the waist-high pool with a sigh, brings his tail around, and starts fingercombing the sand out of it.

When he hears a footstep, his shoulders slump, though he makes no effort to hide himself. It's too late, anyway. ]

My apologies; I know I'm putting something of a damper on this no-doubt beautiful scenery. There's other pools, if you don't wish to be disturbed.

glimpse

[stellerly]

{ooc: up to you if this is their first meeting here or if you'd like to handwave the initial greeting/reconnecting! I'll try to be vague about it. if this doesn't work at all, of course, also please let me know ♥ }


[ Stelle's just climbing out of one of the many pools, herself, when she catches a glimpse of Jiaoqiu moving carefully but decisively through the narrow canyon, and she waves broadly at him, hand stretched high before she remembers exactly how stupid that is and immediately slips on a rock and lands back in the water. Thank the Aeons clumsiness is an indication of protag material or something, though she swears the water is steaming off of her flush of shame.

Regardless, she's lost sight of him once she climbs out of the water again and some combination of nosiness, curiosity, and concern causes her to pick up his trail and follow to wherever it is he was heading. The guilt only increases when she catches up enough to really see him, to see his shoulders slump, and pushes down the cowardice that would allow her to slip away quietly. ]

Sorry, no, I was... it's just me, Stelle. I just wanted to make sure you were... okay.

[ Her cringe is... probably audible. ]

Stelle | Honkai: Star Rail

[stellerly]

Arrival / Disembarking

[ It probably says something that this isn't even the weirdest wake-up Stelle has ever had.

If anything, it's...nostalgic, though neither in a good nor bad way, a very neutral and not at all alarming nostalgic. Really.

Stelle asks every question that comes to mind and receives answers for most, and the explanations are familiar enough that it eases her anxiety, overall. Not entirely, no, but nothing could ease the anxiety of knowing she's been cut off from the Paths she's come to rely on, cut off from the power of the Stellaron inside her, even if maybe she should be more grateful for that than she is, but she's never felt more human and she's not sure what to do about it.

Fortunately, she isn't given long to wallow in self-reflection: the majority of the Wayfarers have already disembarked to explore the planet. She'll join them imminently, but she can't help wanting to wander The Theorem for awhile, to get her bearings, to find her ship and change into some clothes that might be better suited for the desert planet. Her jacket remains a staple, a grounding, familiar, constant hug, but she swaps out her heels and short skirt for some lace up boots and grey cargo pants she can tuck into them. Pockets !!!!

There's a genuine smile on her face when she joins the other new arrivals waiting to head down to catch up with... whoever else is already down there. It's been awhile since she met anyone new, now that she thinks about it. ]

So, what are you in for?


{ ooc: feel free to catch Stelle anywhere around the ship before disembarking, or to only just catch up to her as the new arrivals are heading out! Very open to figuring out Kitchen Shenanigans, lamenting the lack of trash cans, etc, etc. }

Support

[ It's strange, actually, traveling with so many others. The Trailblaze has introduced her to so many people already, cities and planets full of them, but she's always had only a handful of people to truly rely on, who stayed by her side and worked with her this closely.

Well, not that everyone is particularly close, here. There are familiar faces, of course, and she finds herself gravitating to them, offering her assistance selfishly where she knows it won't be refused.

But there is much to be done, and many still figuring out what that means, herself included. So she wanders, camp to camp, people to people, picking up odd jobs from around the caravan, gathering plants, insects, shiny rocks, playing tag with the children speaking languages she's never heard and yet can understand perfectly. She picks up a few choice words, here and there, stores them away for the right moments... ]

Hey, are you busy?

[ She asks, eyes wide and hopeful, before dragging off anyone who seems to need something to do along with her on another gathering mission, or finding a trinket left behind in the wake of the caravan. There are clawmarks on her arms from someone's cat-like pet she'd had to retrieve from the top of a tree-esque bone structure.

Another day, it might be, ]

Do you need help with that? With anything?

[ What else is there to do except everything? ]


{ ooc: sidequests!!! }

Foraging
(in a manner of speaking)

[ On days where there is little else to do but keep up with the caravan, Stelle often falls behind, or wanders off, eyes caught by anything shimmering, anything shiny, by strange dips in the sand, and she can often be caught with a small spade, digging in the sand. The occasional ]

Eureka!

[ can be heard ringing out when she finds something. Her collection is varied, metal bottle caps, an old locket worn nearly completely smooth by the sand, a sharp bone carved to look something like a wing, or maybe a fish tail, a sea shell, a broken piece of glass, a compass or perhaps a pocket watch, faceless and purposeless now.

Treasures left behind by other caravans (she's always prompt to return anything that seems to be recently lost...) but it's the closest to trash she can find to scratch the itch... ]

Life Imitates Art

[ Stelle is collecting momentos, and memories, as she makes her way through the caravan. One day she stumbles upon a small group painting their hands in intricate designs with metallic paints, and she stops in her tracks, transfixed. It reminds her of Aglaea, (the reds of Mydei, of Anaxa, of... well, blood,) though even she's not so bold to ask if they know of anyone whose blood runs other than red. She's already seen it might just be possible, amongst the incredible diversity present here.

Caught staring, she's invited to join, to learn. So she does.

A burnished brass, like amber, like wheat, like the sand they're trudging through, like her eyes, is chosen for her. They ask her for her name, and when she tells them, one snaps their fingers and selects a small brush, takes her hand in theirs, and begins to paint.

She's left with a starburst on her hand that makes her heart clench. They couldn't know how close it is to... something she's lost that she never knew she'd miss, a starburst that spreads in veins like cracked and repaired pottery up her forearm. It's beautiful. It feels a little like her soul is on display in a way she can't express.

And she resolves to spend a little more time with them, to share sips of sweet tea brewed in the sun, and to invite in anyone else who stops to linger, if they allow. ]

Let me practice on you!

[ Surely one should have full confidence in her artistic abilities! Surely the ink isn't semi-permanent! ]

Stargazing

[ Sleep doesn't come all that easily to Stelle, these days. She's had more than enough of it to last... lifetimes. Even if it wasn't really sleep and was more stasis, or entrapment, well. It was still multiple hundreds of years of unconsciousness and she's had enough, thanks, she's fine. It's fine.

She volunteers for the night watch more nights than not, largely because sleep is elusive, of course, but also because she's missed the sky. And on those nights where it's been insisted that she sleep for a change, she sneaks off, instead, though whether or not she manages to do so sneakily remains to be seen.

Those nights are spent not far from the camp, just far enough, or over a small dune enough, that the flickering lights of the campfires don't catch her eyes, that she can lay back and reflect the stars, instead. She doesn't expect anyone to join her, but she wouldn't deny company. She can't be the only one a little overwhelmed by everything. ]

Oasis

[ Every part of Stelle's body hurts, in ways it never has before, in ways she didn't know it could, from the tips of her toes to her scalp. It's strange, realizing exactly how much she's relied on the Stellaron without realizing it, how much she's taken for granted in her deliberate ignorance of it.

But it's difficult to be too melancholy, even with the aching soreness, when such a beautiful retreat exists. They're close to their objective, and even if it wasn't the talk on everyone's lips, the anticipation a physical thing in the air around them, she thinks she'd be able to feel it, that they're close to something big, something meaningful...

For now, though, she sits on a rock at the edge of the waters, her pants rolled up to her thighs and her legs submerged to the calves in the water. She could almost cry from the relief. She kicks a splash of water at her companion with a mischievous grin. ]

So...what do you think we'll find?

[ What are you hoping for? ]

Wildcard

[ ooc: I cannot even express how open I am to absolutely everything, what a gorgeous setting!!! Have another idea I haven't touched on? Hit me. Want a custom starter for it? Contact me via DMs or at asirensings to plot that out!

Stelle is coming in post-3.7, I'm playing fast and loose with her Division, but leaning Support for the sake of these prompts, and lbr her Edict will likely be The Last Pilgrim.

Brackets or prose all good, go with your preference. ♥ ]

Wildcard (i'm normal i'm normal i'm so normal)

[greatestworks]

[ Night falls. Stars shine like diamonds scattered across the deep velvet blanket of the sky, and faces glow in the light of a dozen or more fires. They ask for stories, and find Wayfarers willing to deliver. Phainon sticks to the smaller gatherings, rather than gravitating towards the larger, central fires where things are livelier and a little more visible.

It's probably this tendency towards entertaining smaller groups that he's going on evening number three of reciting one Amphorean epic after another, regaling children on anything from the heroic deeds and grand quests of bygone eras to humorous fables featuring hapless Titankin. The stories are light, diverting around some of the more grim and tragic story beats with some agile ad-libbing (who's going to tell on him anyway?).

For those familiar with the legends, myths, and epics typical of Ancient Greece, there are more than a few passing references and similarities. In fact, there's even a brazen reference to a Trojan Horse, albeit named a Janus Steed, and apparently capable of traversing space and time, he's partially through a tale about its misadventures when his voice starts to give out on him.

Promising to continue the next night, he retires to the outskirts of the gathering, nursing a cup of sweet tea to salve his throat. And, as attentions drift, he slips back into the dark between tents, cup in hand.

The injuries he'd sustained during the glass-and-sand storm last month have... well, mostly healed into tender lines of new skin and some scarring; the deepest cuts still have medical adhesive suturing them, protected by translucent patches that serve as excellent bandages and, unfortunately, do nothing to cover the marks absolutely covering him from neck to toe.

His coat is in tatters, and his other clothing too bulky and warm for the desert, so he's dressed in a lightweight, breathable tunic and pants, and what of his blue and gold cape could be salvaged has been fashioned into a kind of sash, tied at one hip and covering one arm from shoulder to elbow. Sturdy boots and the usual collar make a full outfit, but the lack of sleeves leave the myriad markings in full view.

The spiced, sweet tea in his cup catches starlight as he swirls it with a roll of his wrist. As he drinks it, he realizes behind the cloying sweetness there's a taste of something bitter. The dregs of the pot, perhaps, or the tea was steeped for too long. It does the job, either way, and his throat stings less when he joins a different fire, to listen instead of speak.

Someone fills his (recently empty) cup with something else. Blindly, he passes it along to the person he senses near him, and only when he peels his eyes away from the firelight (a storyteller sitting down after telling their tale), does he have reason to glance twice.

Not at the person he'd handed his refilled drink off to, but the girl next to them, with grey hair and eyes that remind him of home. Not even rubbing the heel of his palm into one eye manages to clear this mirage from his eyes.

Apologies to the rest of this campfire group, because a noisy reunion is about to go down. ] Partner?!

Lu Guang | LinkClick

[guideintime]

📸 the glass outcroppings

[ Research and Archives really is the best fit for Lu Guang. Ever since waking, he's had his nose in a book and has been taking notes. He's tried to absorb everything that he can because his partner certainly won't remember it all so that he can be adequately prepared for whatever it is that is to come. That being the case, Lu Guang has been growing more accustomed to the multi-scanner. While he prefers the feel of a camera in his hands - the weight of it familiar and comforting - the scanner is what he has.

There's something that feels off about the spikes themselves. Lu Guang doesn't particularly like the feeling that makes the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rise a little. It's what prompts him to start scanning the structure. Maybe whatever is recorded can tell whomever what, exactly, is going on.

Lu Guang is about to pull away when he sees something. Lu Guang's normally flat expression turns into something of shock, skin going even paler. He sucks in a breath, not sure why that image is staring right back at him. ]

📸 story telling

[ Lu Guang is more than content to just listen to other peoples' stories. He's a young man that enjoys more literary classics as well as manga and comics. All story telling media has merit, in his opinion. Oral stories are no different. So perhaps he is content to listen to whomever is speaking, taking an interest in what they say and the world that they come from.

Or, maybe, Lu Guang is the one that is having attention drawn to himself. He looks a little awkward, taken aback by being asked to share some kind of tale from his life. Whether his side glance is because there is a story he is hesitant to say or because he is trying to think of one - ]

There was a time where my idiot partner was kidnapped.

[ Or that! ]

📸 shady oasis

[ Once again, he has the scanner out, recording what they've found within canyon. If Lu Guang had a camera, he'd be doing the same thing. There's something to be said about landscapes and capturing moments in time. Lu Guang has already decided that, since this is the last time, he should enjoy everything and take in the moment.

It might take a little convincing to get him to stop looking at everything and to actually play or enjoy the oasis by dragging him to wade in the water. He'll do it, of course... ]

📸 wildcard

[ If none of the prompts above seem to fit what you're looking for, just throw something my way. I'm happy to just roll with whatever you're feeling. But if you'd like to plan something, feel free to reach out to me at verthunder, Discord, or PM! ]

story telling 📸

[diveintime]

[After they've been able to meet up and talk... Now they're down on some weird alien desert planet and...

Cheng Xiaoshi deadass stares at Lu Guang.]

Yeah? Do share the details, Lu.

[Lu Guang has always been the reader. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't have the attention span to get through a whole novel very often. But Lu Guang is very much the reader and observer, so to get to hear Lu Guang attempt to tell a story instead of watching or reading one... Oh yeah. He's interested.]

Noctis Lucis Caelum | FFXV

[fessus]

Debut

[ Travel feels like progress, and progress feels like escaping being slowly baked under an oppressive sun for a too-long cycle of daylight hours. Thus, when they bed down with the caravan for their first night together, it's with a feeling of accomplishment. Noctis doesn't refuse the food or drink they offer, not when he's been unlucky enough to be laden down with supplies and tending to more hover-sled malfunctions than he's cared to as a member of Support.

Being more discerning with what he's offered might've been smarter.

The spiced drinks bring a new warmth to his cheeks, and by the time he's secured a quiet corner of the camp to himself to practice a few forms with a dagger he's borrowed off one of the other travelers, he's well on his way to tipsy. It's dark here, beside his tent and with the frame of a skeletal ribcage blocking most of the wind from the desert beyond. Private.

So when a shadow is cast from the fire behind him, he almost immediately notices. ]

Oh, hey. Looking to practice too?

Fireside

[ Noctis is not storyteller. Oration is enough of a stretch and that's in his job description, so asking him to get creative with it is pushing it even further. Still, after a fair amount of good-natured bullying – most of it from a collection of excitable humanoid fungi children whose gills fan out with anticipation when he gives in – he agrees to tell a story.

Only the story he picks is not his own. ]

–so Malik lives, and he even gets the Apple after Altaïr messes up. Then it's just two of them heading back to Masyaf, which is– yeah, hold on, I'm getting there. I'm saying it's the Assassin stronghold.

Hah? No, it's Ibn-La'Ahad, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad... [ Their interruptions make the job harder, that's for sure, but nevertheless he painstakingly works his way through the plot of the first Assassin's Creed game. Perhaps he'll receive more interruptions from someone else in the crowd, or you have stories of your own to tell once he's done.

If not, he can also be found later during the same night with one of those same children, an indigo milk cap he's determined to be named Connie. Her stubby arms reach for him as he splashes water onto the grain he's just finished pounding, aiding in making loaves for the caravan. Only once she's whispered in his ear does he scoff, shaking his head. ]

Ahh, I was paying attention when they showed me... Were you watching? That's enough water. Even if it's not, I can always add more, right? Connie, seriously...

Hey, can you tell me if you think that's enough water? [ The nearest passerby is roped in as he raises his voice, head raised to you. ] I already know it is...

Glimpse

[ The oasis to Noctis Lucis Caelum means one thing and one thing only.

Fishing.

He's secured a rod from one of the other travelers within the first half-hour of their arrival at the pool, and a scant ten minutes after he's located an ideal spot in the shade. Beneficial considering that the more appealing waters for swimming seem to be in the light, and both the fish and himself prefer to avoid a crowd.

It's a solid strategy. Particularly because he does manage to catch three almost immediately, when he's interrupted. ]

Hey... You can be over here, just don't scare the fish. I've got a spare rod but we can't overcrowd 'em.

Network - darknight

Anyone a pro at cooking fish? Trade you some if you help prep the rest 🐟🐟🎣

Reflect - Closed to Jonas

[ He keeps largely to himself when they set out, busying himself with the work of packing up the last remnants of camp and finding himself at the back of the group as a result. It's in the morning after their first day of travel, having just nestled in the gorge of glass spikes for shelter from the elements, that he reaches out to Jonas.

Linking back up feels obvious when the journey manages to contain both unknown perils and swaths and swaths of nothingness to look at, meaning that the best thing to have at his side is a trustworthy friend who doubles as good company. He has to privately wonder if everyone else in their crew is so fortunate. ]

Watch your step up here or we're gonna' have matching scars... you got that second bag or do you need a hand?

Wildcard

[ Feel free to pm me, reach out at pyrrhic, or on Discord @ pyrrhicbattles if you'd like a different starter – I always love new adds! Alternatively feel free to throw a random scenario at me, I'll absolutely roll with it. ]

network | @fangshi

[solless]

( for the better part of two years, yi had lived in a cave near Peach Blossom Village, subsisting off of fish he'd caught from an underground cavern and then grilled over an open flame. shuanshuan had always been the better cook, but...

well. yi is starving. no matter how much food he mooches off of others, he's still hungry, so... )

I have experience with that.

Ron Anjou ✧ Dragon Raja

[timewarden]

THE ARRIVAL.

[ Anjou quickly ordered a tall glass of moscato at the Paper Lantern Bar, a popular hangout spot among the ship's crew. This fragrant and sweet wine is one of his many vices, aside from bourbon and whiskey. While he dislikes Italy as a country, he reluctantly sips his glass, knowing the Italians have a tight grip on him through their beloved wine. Even so, he would still talk shit about them if given the chance. If there's one thing about Anjou, he is a proficient shit talker.

Fortunately, despite the peculiarity of his present circumstances, he is in a good mood. However, this can differ based on the company here at the bar. So when he sets his sights on the nearest poor bastard at the counter, it's game on. He flashes them one of his charming smiles before asking the following. ]

Why the long face? Surely this isn't your first voyage into the great unknowns.

[ He remarks before taking a generous sip from his glass. Based on the contented sigh that follows, this is a damn nice glass of wine. ]

Despite this place being a bit tacky, the menu is delightful.

DEBUT.

Well, look at that.

[ Anjou couldn't help but let out a long, impressed whistle when he saw the massive bones protruding from the sand. While he has decimated his fair share of mythical animals, he has never seen anything quite this enormous outside of Nidhogg's corpse. Nonetheless, the massive bones these titans left behind leave him somewhat speechless. He wanders aimlessly through the enormous ribcage of one such unfortunate beast, his blue gaze seeking for any answers within the twisting sands.

However, he abandons his mission when he notices a massive white-gray boulder emerging from the sand. It takes him a while to realize what he's looking at, but upon closer examination, Anjou is pleasantly delighted by his gruesome find.

An intact skull.

From this viewpoint, it almost seems human, save for the titan's teeth and horns that remain. Anjou studies it for a bit before leaping from the sand to the top of the skull. While he may not have all of his skills, Anjou isn't truly human. Then again, the majority of this motley bunch appears to be made up of genetically altered humans already. ]

The view is fantastic from up here!

GLIMPSE.

[ Heatstroke is no joke. After almost losing five members to heatstroke, Anjou began to take this small excursion more seriously. While he managed to avoid heatstroke, Anjou was becoming a little winded. As the crew of the Theorem continues their trek alongside the caravan, Anjou begins to trail behind. He's not far behind, but he appears to have lost some momentum.

He takes a few moments to gather his breath before sprinting forward to catch up. However, Anjou eventually falls further and further behind. Anjou has had enough of the oppressive heat, harsh gusts, and scorching sands. Everyone is surprised when the spry old man finally collapses.

Thankfully, he's still alive. Just a tad woozy at best, and definitely a bit exhausted. While Anjou has seen better days, he at least see some humor in this. ]

It seems I'm a Londoner through and through; this is too much sun for me.

Wildcard.

(have something else in mind? feel free to make your own prompt or hit me up on devillady.)

GLIMPSE.

[mikoshi]

[ Vincent holds out a bottle of water. Some sort of salt seems to be suspended inside the liquid. ] Oh, wait. [ Shakes it vigorously until the particles dissolve completely. ] Yeah, old timer, last thing I recommend out here is tea and crumpets. Well, maybe at nights. Gets cold as a corpo's bookkeepin'.

V | Cyberpunk 2077

[mikoshi]

REFLECT

[ Pilgrimages are supposed to be trials, so Vincent ignores the hollow pit in his stomach with the same pragmatism that sees him through most things — the heat lies about your needs. It causes hunger because, in reality, your body craves water, but the moisture gained from eating isn't worth the energy. Not out here.

If it were up to Vincent they wouldn't be traveling during hot hours at all. But not his issued orders thus not his consequences to bear. The Hosts seem confident they have plenty of water for everyone anyways. Who's one lone merc to argue?

Reed would do well here... springs up the errant thought. If they ordered him to jump off a cliff, he'd ask how high.

The hunger-thirst must be stronger than thought possible. As Vincent moves through the path, in every single pane of glass rests the image of Reed, most arresting a neutral-faced, mortally-wounded death portrait. Cause of death — gunshot wound at the center of the forehead. ]

Don't regret killin' ya, Reed, regret the way I did it. Should've been my fists. [ God knows he, out of all people, knows how much it sucks to go out via bullet to the brain. ]

FIRESIDE

[ Dusk now. After hours of doing whatever tasks needed to be doing — fixing up broken bits on the skimmers, helping hunters butcher animals he's never seen in his life (bad idea with the pangs of this unceasing hunger) — Vincent wants to unwind, not entertain necessarily. But he understands too well the value of socializing in his hostile environment. The friendships he strikes up tonight could save his life tomorrow.

And the kids are asking. Even if half of them appear to have too many limbs, too many eyes, they're cute in their own way — like he's befriending the insects he used to collect, but these are people and they can talk to him. ] My people are from the desert. We roam it too and, as you all know, sometimes you get fuckin' lost. [ Laughter, sounds of agreement. ] So, we use songs to call out to each other. And songs are stories, so... [ A calming silence fell over the eager audience. Vincent clears his throat. Unable to stare into the crowd of expectant onlookers, he closes his eyes, exhales, then begins: ]

Haru koro no hana no en
Meguru sakazuki kagesashite
Chiyo no matsu ga e wakeideshi
Mukashi no hikari Ima izuko
Mukashi no hikari Ima izuko

Aki jinei no schimo no iro
Nakiyuku kari no kazu misete
Uuru tsurugi ni terisoishi
Mukashi no hikari ima izuko

[ His voice, which lacks professional polish but makes up for it in soul and a natural sense of rhythm, rises higher, follows a long-memorized tune. Slowly, Vincent opens his eyes, locks eyes with a fellow Wayfarer, and smiles softly. All his nerves seem to vanish. ]

Ima kojo no yowa no tsuki
Kawaranu hikari ta ga tame zo
Kaki ni nokoru wa tada kazura
Matsu ni uto wa tada arashi

Tenjokage wa kawaranedo
Eiko wa utsuru yo no sugata
Utsusan toteka ima mo nao
Ah! Kojo no yowa no tsuki

[ Stops. Looks around at the crowd. Takes them a bit to engage but, once they do, human and not-so human sounds of applause and other sounds of approval make the verdict clear. ]

GLIMPSE ^{NETWORK TEXT}

[ Someone's having a great time now that the waters have eased all his aches and pains, as well as their impromptu concert going well.

So much so that it's time to go back to his favorite way to unwind: ]

Come to the oasis in the next 35 minutes if you want an ass kicking.

WILDCARD

[ OOC: As always, game for anything. Send me a DM or contact me over at tsuchinoko if you want an ass kicking want to set up a different scene! (,,>ヮ<,,) ]

un:fisitron

[fisitronism]

I've got nothing but respect for human tenacity, but I'm approximately three times your height and weigh several tons. I don't think it would go the way you seem to think it will.

Cheng Xiaoshi | Link Click | new player

[diveintime]

[📸 a. arrival]

[The last thing Cheng Xiaoshi remembers is the hospital lights. How painfully bright they are, how they make his head spin and blur the world into a soft, buzzing halo.

And then he feels the pull. Everything twists and turns and that shimmering black and glittering portal spits him out like a used piece of gum. The next thing he realizes is the dizzying halos of light have turned into painful and annoying fluorescent spacey lights. And all he can hear is the faint beeping of a ... heart rate monitor?]

Where the ...

[He sits up to find himself in what appears to be some sort of science fiction bed with a big machine-like ring around him. With all the beeping machines and all the bright lights and the stark white and blue "hospital" bed to match. He almost thinks that he' really dreaming or this is some sort of bizarre medicine-induced hallucination. Until that robot pops up and starts to babble away about planets and missions.]

Did I hit my head, too? ... This has got to be some sort of fever dream I'm having. Someone pinch me or punch me awake or something.

[He immediately wants to pull away any machines, and get out of this bed to see what is going on. Either find him trying to stubbornly crawl his injured (but healing!) ass out of that medical bed in the Medical Wing or see him hobbling down a random hallway on the ISEV.]

[📸 b. debut]

[After gaining his bearings, Cheng Xiaoshi packs up what little he does have and heads out with the rest of the Wayfarers down onto this Epsilon-355. He has a hard time getting used to the time and daylight changes and naps a lot but no one can blame him. He's not nearly as made out to be a space explorer like some other Wayfarers might be. He's fit and he can throw a basketball like no one's business. But traversing desert planets in space? ... That's rough.

Cheng Xiaoshi puts his hand to his forehead, wiping away some of the desert-induced sweat from his brow. In the distance, he can see those giant monster bones looming over everything like a bad omen.]

It's hot as hell, down here. What are we supposed to be looking for...?

[Instead of a bad omen, Cheng Xiaoshi is met with the colourful array of people living down here. He can't help but smile, seeing the harmony that they seem to have. People laughing, music playing and food being shared. And he forgets everything that he was complaining about before.

When one of the winged ladies comes up to him, offering him what appears to be a very strange looking fruit, Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't have the heart to say no to taking one. He takes it, thanking her with a bow of his head, before he cracks the fruit open with his hands. Sticky juice smears over his fingers and palms and the strange smell of ... something like shit, honestly, permeates from the alien fruit. He turns his nose up immediately and tries not to look like he's going to hurl.]

Yeah! ... Thanks! Sure, I'll be happy to try one! You got it! ...

[He's too nice to say no thanks. That's why he turns to you.]

Here, try one with me? Don't leave me hanging alone? [Please??]

[📸 c. fireside]

[When the bonfires are going, Cheng Xiaoshi can't help but enjoy a spot by the heat. He likes hearing the stories, both bizarre and normal, and all out of this world. But it's when the children start to clamour around him that Cheng Xiaoshi starts to feel himself laugh and tense up nervously as they poke and prod him for stories.]

Who, me? I don't know, I've never been much of a storyteller. You seriously want to hear something from me?

[Even if he says that, Cheng Xiaoshi has more stories than he can possibly share in a single night. He's lived the lives of what feels like hundreds of people, seeing their stories through their eyes and not his own. He can't remember how many times he's put himself out of his own mind and body to live someone else's life, even for a day.

He laughs.]

Alright... What do you wanna hear first? A story about a boy who wanted to save the world from an Earthquake? Or how about a man who did everything he could to make sure he could marry the love of his life?

[He's already in the zone. Ask him for a story, he has so many! And none of them are about him.]

[📸 d. theoremnet]

[Time for the obligatory network post prompt!]

Sooo. Do these things have any decent games on them? What's everyone playing? Brick breaker?

[📸 e. wildcard]

[got something else? feel free to wildcard me with anything here too! or you can find me at michrure to do some plotting.]

Network 🍒 LOG ID: cherryb0mb • ENCRYPTED

[citizenid_null]

not a single aether access point and i can't access a single citizenid database

i'm thoroughly disappointed

but at least they have candy crush

🍬

Therion | Octopath Traveler

[nervesofsteal]

i. Fireside

Really? [His eyebrows raise.] Me?

[Sure, he's got stories, and if he doesn't have stories he can improvise stories. And if he had to, he could do it pretty damn well, actually- Therion always had a theatrical bent to him, could put on and take off masks as the situation calls for it, spin wild tales and make them believable. If the situation calls for it.

But the situation doesn't call for it! So, he smiles, reasonably pleasant. Friendly, even, because it's not like he hates the people of the caravan.]

Oh no, trust me, nothing I can tell can compare to the stories I heard from our friend here. You're missing out.

[And Therion nods towards you- yes, you. He means you. "Do we have CR-" Doesn't matter, you've been volunteered and look at all the children gazing at you!]


ii. Glimpse

[He is, for once, behaving himself. It's easy enough. Biding his time is something Therion knows how to do- one doesn't just walk into a big mansion without prep work, and this is larger than that. This is something he doesn't understand just yet. And why make enemies before the time comes?

But the caravan winds along. It finds its way to the destination, bit by bit, and Therion...

Kills time. And he learns a story, and finally he just has to ask someone:]

What do you think?


iii. Glimpse Part 2

[Yadda yadda majestic vistas yadda yadda sand-whales yadda yadda. Doesn't matter.

This is what matters. At ass o'clock, some fucking bit of local wildlife starts screaming its head off and Therion groggily blinks awake, and then he groggily reaches for the nearest walk, and then he- less groggily, does not throw that rock because who knows what else is out there, fuck.]


iv. wildcard

[Or just surprise me. o/ Shoot me a message if you wanna plot.]

fireside 🔥

[diveintime]

[Wow, rude. Cheng Xiaoshi gives the other guy a look the moment he realizes the ball is being passed to him. Without a single heads up.]

Hey... Hold on, you're the one who looks like you've got some fancy and mysterious stories in you! Just look at you. I bet you're packed full.

[Guys with one eye covered by their fancy hair usually do!!]

zani ( wuthering waves )

[sipped]

REFLECT.

[ She had been hoping for a vacation; slow and absent of her Terminal ringing to odd hours of the night. Instead she wakes abruptly to a world unfamiliar with an explanation that is equal parts informative and irritating. Imagining her workload slowly beginning to pile up in her absence, the stress that it will bring on her colleagues - it's enough to make her audibly sigh.

But there's no point in wasting time dreading about the situation as a whole. There's work to be done.

The days here were languorous, and it didn't help that she had little sleep as is back home. Battling her exhaustion by sneaking in quick power naps, she focuses on helping pack up the camp. When something's done she moves on to the next, her gaze expectant despite the evident dark circles underneath her eyes. ]

Need an extra pair of hands? I'm not tired. [ She said tiredly. ]

FIRESIDE.

[ Zani takes another nap once they've settled, lulled awake when the smell of food wafts in the air. She shouldn't skimp out of the friendliness of the caravan, even if she wanted nothing more than to just spend a few more hours sleeping. And so she approaches one of the lively circles with a plateful of fruits, content with just listening to the stories of others.

But their attention is soon drawn to her: pinching the flesh of a citrus fruit between her fingers and mouth slightly agape. She is visibly hesitant, focusing her gaze on the fire before she shakes her head. ]

I don't have anything interesting to tell... I just work at a bank. [ She doesn't mean to sound so disinterested, but there's a part of her that wants to remain guarded.

Red eyes flicker gold from the light of the fire, her gaze finding yours. It causes the heads of those curious to fix their attention on you - her fellow Wayfarer - with Zani not the least bit ashamed for pushing you into the spotlight. If anything, her expression reads a mix of impassiveness and encouragement, tilting her head slightly. ]

GLIMPSE.

[ She can feel the sand weighing down in her hair, her eyes slightly irritated at the small grains that had made it into her lashes. The discomfort almost influences her to pray to a Sentinel she didn't believe in. As if expressing any hope for a higher being would cause a Tubpup to manifest in front of them -

Or an entire oasis could just be waiting for them. And now she's just thankful that she didn't need to beg.

She cups the cool water into her hands, an unexpecting shiver running down her spine that causes her tail to whip with glee. She splashes her face clean from sand, running wet hands through her hair as while her tail continues to lightly thump against the ground. Zani doesn't seem to recognize it's her, as she tilts her head upward and perks a brow. ]

... What's that sound?

[ it's her

NETWORK.

When do I get my shield back?

WILDCARD.

( hello! if you'd like to brainstorm or perhaps have a custom starter made feel free to pm me with ideas. i'm actually open to anything.

i'm caught up with 3.0 but will be playing zani post 2.7! if you'd like to avoid any spoilers please just feel free to lmk. )

reflect.

[handfast]

[ by now, camping has become second nature to him. finding a suitable location, setting up their tents, going hunting and fishing so they'll have something to eat for their supper later that night...it's familiar, even if the supplies here aren't what he's used to.

maybe that's why the woman comes over as he tries to connect two sleek poles for his tent, missing the attachment point the second time in a row. he glances up, hands slowing in place. his expression is: decidedly unimpressed. ]

Yeah? 'Cause you look like you got punched in both eyes.

[ this too is familiar, a stinging barb carelessly thrown away from him, meant to shroud and hide any possible vulnerability. ]

Aventurine | Honkai: Star Rail

[guaranteedwins]

♠️ Debut: Scan Skimmers

[ The caravan makes him extremely uncomfortable. There are reasons for that and Aventurine is not about to delve into them. The very last thing he needs is a reminder of a life that no longer exists. Rather, a life that can no longer exist for him or for -

Volunteering to jump on one of those skimmers to look for sources of water is a better use of Aventurine's time. He's certainly not someone that can help with hunting and gathering and don't ask him to compose any epic poetry.

So feel free to catch him zipping across the sand or once he's stepped off of one for a break.

The only other thing that Aventurine can offer is advice. ]

Hmmm. Looks like you have a little sand problem.

[ Definitely bothering someone who is supposed to be getting sand out of machines. ]

♠️ Fireside: Your Stories Not Mine

[ Aventurine has no intentions to share in the storytelling aspect of all of this. In fact, he doesn't really know how long he's going to stick around to listen to other stories either. The reason he decides to stay isn't necessarily because he's interested in the tales themselves... Rather, Aventurine is more interested in what these stories will tell him about others.

When one of the people of the caravan look at him, almost encouraging him to speak. He smiles. ]

Oh, you don't want to hear any of tales. It's all boring office work and corporate politics. Now - [ His attention turns towards whomever is here sitting with the rest of them. ] they have something more exciting than anything I could ever come up with.

[ Putting you on the spot? Absolutely. ]

♠️ Network

"Something you don't know you need until that very moment." That's not very helpful, now is it?

So what do you think? Are we going to have wishes we don't know about granted or is it all a hoax?

♠️ Wildcard

[ If none of the prompts above seem to fit what you're looking for, just throw something my way. I'm happy to just roll with whatever you're feeling. But if you'd like to plan something, feel free to reach out to me at verthunder, Discord, or PM! ]

fireside

[missdemeanor]

[ oh no. she knows what that is, as eyes turn to her with aventurine's prompting. it's passing the buck, and desscaras — the master of it — refuses to be a victim.

how he smiles. little twerp.

so she smiles in turn, small and fleeting, before she raises a hand to refer back to him, her reply encouraging in context but said in a tone that doesn't quite match.

nice try, it implies. ]

Nuh uh. How're you ever gonna climb the corpo ladder if you don't learn to sell yourself? Take this as practice. Tell 'em about a time you were proud at work. Go, go.

Ladon Ceto || Original Character - Established

[justamobster]

Prompt threads to follow.

REFLECT >> cw: blood/gun violence

[justamobster]

✢ Reflect: Will you cover your heart when you see what I've done? ✢

Ladon doesn’t mean to look. That’s the trick of it — the glass catches him sideways, like a bad dream cutting in line. For a heartbeat he thinks it’s just his own reflection, warped and thin, but the image doesn’t move when he does. A still life of a time years ago. The moment when everything went wrong. There's a body on the floor, a young woman, her blood dark against tile, brown eyes already gone somewhere he can’t follow. And there with her is another man roughly the same age, hands wide in horror and disbelief over her corpse, his face a picture of pure despair.

It's the kind of scene he tells himself he’ll forget if he just keeps moving further forward. He swallows, adjusts his coat, and keeps his wingtips steady between the spikes. No sense letting a mirror think it’s got his number. He's unaware that someone else has seen it and has questions.

Especially as the woman appears to have been shot through the neck, and Ladon's reflection is holding a gun.

(TL;DR - There's a dead woman and her grieving partner in the reflection. A younger Ladon is also there, holding a gun in one hand.)

KOMANO MANATO 💥 ZENLESS ZONE ZERO (new player)

[antibully]

1. REFLECT

_{[ Initial shock and awe passing, the ever-gnawing concern he has for loved ones back home seeming to fade into the back of his mind, Manato certainly knows how to pack up a camp securely; almost like maybe he had done something like this before. He was massive, both in height and physique, standing at just over six feet and five inches. He gave off an intimidating aura, like someone you wouldn't want to fight or mess with, his expression rather unreadable other than showing a certain amount of intensity. The most obvious thing about him that stood out from others, however, was a set of triangular dog ears that crowned his head and a massive, fluffy brown pelted tail trailed behind him. He makes a face and scrunches his nose as a gust of wind spits some sand in his direction, and one ear turning towards the direction of someone else, he speaks: ]}

What? What are ya lookin' at?

_{[ His voice was harsh around the edges, matching the scar along his left eye and more that were speckled all over his body underneath his clothes. What he says next is kind of surprising after a reaction like that: ]}

You need help packing?

2. FIRESIDE

_{[ Surely someone with his demeanor and appearance would have some sort of story to tell, and maybe that is true, but Manato spends most of the time once they have parked doing what he does best. No, it isn't fighting; it isn't hunting or foraging. He spends his time cooking. Although the ingredients gathered are foreign to him, Manato takes sufficient time to somewhat familiarize himself with what he has to work with. He is someone who just so happens to be managing one of the stews nearby, and there seems to be an excessive amount of vegetables in it. Manato takes great care for making sure the stew tastes just right, occasionally taste-testing it. Perhaps you try to sneak in a bite only to get scolded, or perhaps you're standing by, observing him. He'll eventually pipe up and say something: ]}

Almost finished.

_{[ He sounds a little irritated when he says that, almost as if he was shushing a child, but he awkwardly clears his throat and softens his tone. ]}

I promise.

_{[ how do we start a conversation with someone, let's see.. ]}

Uh. Those bones we saw today were pretty impressive, huh?

_{[ dog mindset .... his tail even wags a little at the thought of those goddamn big bones. ]}

3. GLIMPSE

_{[ Typically, Manato wasn't too big of a fan when it came to water, but going through a sandy planet and left him feeling quite the opposite. Patches of sand and grit lay buried beneath his thick pelt and he couldn't wait to wash himself off and relieve that scratchy feeling. Once the oasis is in sight, he heads off in that direction. ]}

Come on! Let's go for a swim!

_{[ A surprisingly bright smile beams through his expression, and he even grabs another Wayfarer's arm to drag them along towards the water with him. Well.. go for a swim or turn him down? ]}

OOC

_{[ feel free to wildcard me!! or if you wanna plot something out, you can pm this account or my plurk justaways! ]}

fireside

[flavourtown]

[ Jiaoqiu has his own fire that he's cooking things over -- currently something of a multi-part meal, with sliced cactus, scrambled eggs, diced meat, and a salsa, something a Wayfarer had suggested to him last month -- but like the nosy chef he is, he cannot resist checking out what other people are cooking. There are numerous circles of pilgrims, each with their own cultural food stewing or grilling or roasting over a fire, and he's been taste-testing everything, discussing the particulars with whoever's tending the food.

And now: to this particular fire, where he smells quite a lot of vegetable content.

Unfortunately for Manato, Jiaoqiu does not notice his impressive height, his impressive tits, or his canine accoutrements. This is chiefly because he's blind, but also largely because he has his own vulpine ears and fluffy tail, and finds such additions entirely normal.

Jiaoqiu finds his way to the pot, snags a piece of vegetable with his trusty chopsticks, and pops it in his mouth to chew thoughtfully. ]

Unfortunately I've only felt the bones underfoot on the road, and haven't had much chance to examine the bigger ones off to the side. [ He swallows, approving. ] Some kind of root vegetable, I think? The texture was just right; you've done an excellent job. Are these your ingredients, or are you just the stew-watcher?

Sunday | Honkai: Star Rail

[weekending]

1. SUPPORT - NETWORK from @ networkday

[ Once the decision has been made and the schedule set for when they'll break camp and set out, Sunday posts a message on the network ]


Last call if anyone needs anything specific off of the ship. I am making a final supply run on behalf of the Support Division and will be leaving in approximately 1 system hour - though you will have a small grace period while I am in transit if you're late. If you don't have it by then, you will have to either get it yourself or make do without.

Alternatively, if there is anything you don't wish to carry on the trek, you can bring it to me, and I will see it safely back to the Theorem.


[ After which Sunday can be found flitting between the various other divisions checking that everyone has all the scanners, sample collection equipment, etc. they could want -- and then triple checking the food, water, and spare filter inventories as he makes notes on his tablet. Got a request? Look for the halo.

And once he's done making the rounds, he can be found briefly stopping by his own ship to apologize to The Tempered Warmth of Porcelain in Direct Sunlight for leaving them behind (alas, the supplies take up more space than his ship's cargo hold has room for) before he finally winds up at the shuttle, chatting with its host pilot and getting anything that needs taken back to the Theorem packed away. He doesn't mind being interrupted, though if you stand in the way he will ask you to move. ]

2. FIRESIDE - Clockwork

[ At first, Sunday is a little hesitant - not because he has any compunctions about sharing stories but rather because it's difficult to simply pick one out of the blue like this. He prefers to have time to think these things over and prepare - to decide on what kind of message he wants to leave his audience with. However, as he looks at the eager and expectant shine in the eyes of the children crowding close, he makes a decision and smiles gently at them, his headwings relaxing with a flutter as he settles in. And as he speaks, it quickly becomes clear from Sunday's cadence and enunciation that he is no stranger to public speaking.

The story begins, as so many do, with: ]

Once upon a time... there was a ship called The Compass, known far and wide for being crewed by daring adventurers always ready to set sail into the unknown. They often welcomed new friends ready to join them and bid fond farewells to crew mates who found their calling in particular new lands they visited, and we could sit here all week, and still I wouldn't have time to tell you of all of their journeys. But I will tell you about a few of the adventures of one of their most colorful crew mates: A magical living clock named Clockie, and his two best friends, Captain Revolver and the Mirror Princess!

One such adventure began when The Compass was acquiring supplies from a passing Crocodile Trader. The trader apologized for how sparse some of his wares were, telling them all about how he'd had to send a lot of his usual supplies off to the distant mining town of Nightmareville. Turns out, there were massive riots going on there, and the townsfolk were attacking the local Crocodile Traders and setting fire to their mine because they wanted to steal it for themselves! Sensing their intrigue, the Crocodile Trader added with a gleam in his eyes, "I'm sure Boss Stone could really use the help in getting everything settled again peacefully. No one wants to see anything else destroyed, after all..."

[ And so Sunday proceeds to recount the thrilling tale of how Clockie, Captain Revolver, and the Mirror Princess first venture to the mysterious town of Nightmareville! He even does proper character voices for each character - Clockie gets a sort of Mickey Mouse-like chipper falsetto, Captain Revolver gets a slightly gruff sounding voice, he does his best at a more feminine pitch and tone for the Mirror Princess, and of course every new character introduced (even the evil Crocs!) get their own voices distinct from the narration.

Even his wings get into the story, folding and spreading to match the mood of the scene - they droop and curl in as he speaks of how gloomy and oppressive Nightmareville is (the only friend they manage to make is Mr. Soda, a strange Soda Bottle selling soda who warns them to be extra careful) - and then they flare wide in exaggerated alarm when the trio are ambushed by Brother Hanu, a strange but very cool wolf man with a rocket launcher...! Brother Hanu is all set to blow them up if they don't surrender, but suddenly, Mr. Soda appears to intervene, assuring Hanu that they're not with Boss Stone! With a reluctant (but still very cool) hmph, Brother Hanu lowers his rocket launcher and invites them all back to his hide-out. There, Mr. Soda tells Clockie, Captain, and the Princess all the truth about how Nightmareville wasn't merely a mining town. No, it was practically a prison, run by Boss Stone and Crocodile Cronies. Day after day and night after night, those cruel crocs forced everyone to mine for jewels in extremely perilous mines, not caring who died as long as the money kept coming in. ]

"But then, when a shooting star fell into the mines and made them even more dangerous and full of monsters, Brother Hanu here? He decided enough was enough. He rose up, and since then, we've all been fighting Boss Stone off."

"Tick-tock, Brother Hanu, you're so brave~! There's definitely something wrong with this Boss Stone's ticker, if he thinks this is any way to treat people. Is there anything we can do to help?"

But before Brother Hanu could so much as let out an approving Hmph!, a bird came flying in, sounding an alarm. "Croc attack! Croc attack!" In an instant, everyone was on their feet, weapons in hand and running out the door to Nightmareville's defense! It seemed that Boss Stone had made his next move...

3. A GLIMPSE of other things

[ Nearly every evening, Sunday will continue to tell one or two more adventures of Clockie and Friends - and he has a great many to choose from. The cartoon he's drawing from has aired over 10,000 episodes over the many, many years it's existed, not to mention the innumerable movies, plays, comics, and more. Not that Sunday is familiar with even half of them - where would he have found the time? - but he's familiar with more than enough to keep the children entertained for the week of travel.

He is an attentive listener in turn -- and he often finds himself drawn to the pilgrims who play music or sing as they go. Discretely, here and there, he records some of it on his tablet, and when it is his turn to help stir a stew pot or help clean sand out of clogged filters, he often finds himself humming the tunes he's been collecting along the way.


After the sandstorm, he's up early to look for the sand-whales, if any are in range enough for their songs to be heard - and felt? He's really paying attention this time and recording on his tablet, wishing to verify prior suspicions about the psychic component of their calls. But otherwise, unless someone asks him to venture out with them, Sunday tends to stay close to the caravan.


Then comes the day they come into view of the temple - or whatever is projected from it. Sunday, of course, scrambles up the dune with everyone else to see. And there, staring out at that vast and beautiful shattered rainbow sky, he finds himself overwhelmed for a moment by a pang of something like homesickness. It's not that the skies of anywhere he's called home have ever been lit quite like this - even in the Dreamscape, none of the Moments had a sky cast in myriad hues quite like this - but rather the particular vibrancy is in some ways so much like the distortion of the Harmony. And going on two months cut off more thoroughly than even severing his halo could accomplish has been... trying. He does not and will not complain, of course, however much the silence still unsettles him at times, but that doesn't mean it doesn't get to him at times -- like now.

And just as soon as the melancholy wistfulness has settled in, it is, of course, chased by bitter self-reproach. (Everyone else is getting along fine as they are, and so can he. He simply has fewer tools at his disposal - that is all.) He closes his eyes, breathes, and lets it go as best he can. Just another trial to continue to endure and overcome. Hearing stories from pilgrims along the way has already given him more perspectives to think about on what truly drives and more importantly fulfills people, what they chase. Perhaps this temple will give him still more insight.


At the oasis, once he's finished triple checking that the Wayfarers' own water supplies are indeed completely restocked, Sunday stands by the waters edge and watches, desperately torn between the desire to thoroughly clean off all the wretched sand and grime of travel and the desire to keep his markings hidden. He's liable to remain locked in indecision paralysis for some time (though being clean is definitely going to win in the end), unless someone bugs him or, you know... just shoves him in. That is definitely also always an option-- ]

((ooc: 1. I will be out of town from Jan 6th to the 12th, so I'm sorry in advanced for when I vanish for a week!
2. Due to the Lost Pilgrim Buff still in effect, Sunday's still got a fun living tattoo situation going on. The main thing visible usually, due to Sunday's tendency to wear long sleeves, long pants, and gloves even in the heat, is golden tear tracks. But he will take off his gloves and roll up his sleeves to help with anything like food prep or w/e.
3. I'm not kidding about Clockie having a Mickey Mouse voice. Or vibe. You can watch a promotional cartoon featuring Clockie here if you want an idea, or a set of three cute shorts here if you just wanna see the animation. :3
4. Please feel free to wildcard it up! If you've any questions, or want to discuss something, DM or poke me at wildzubat <3 ))

GLIMPSE >> Sand-whale watching

[justamobster]

Ladon is up early, partly because he likes the quiet before the caravan stirs, and partly because he’s got a soft spot for sunrises. Back home, as a nightclub owner, dawn is usually something he hears about secondhand, filtered through thick curtains and late mornings. Out here, though, he gets to watch the sun crest the dunes and spill color across the sky, slow and unbothered. So he takes it as it comes, standing there with a tin cup of black coffee warming his hands.

He doesn’t expect company. When he spots another Wayfarer already there, he gives a small, sheepish huff and lifts the cup in apology.

"Sorry. Woulda brought another cup if I knew someone else was out here enjoyin' the sunrise, yeah?"

reze | chainsaw man

[bombdevil]

Network: @ laika

[ The average human would struggle to adjust to a 31 hour day cycle- and while she isn't that, she's actually something worse (a child spy trained into having an abnormal circadian rhythm that already made sleep a commodity).

She's taking it in stride, something mostly attributed to the fact that she's found a new hobby or two.

Her current favorite: crafting a post from the first thing that pops into her head, refined in a way that she hopes will elicit reactions interesting enough to pass the time.

This time it's a video; something old, clearly fished from the Oasis, maybe an old portable speaker (something she would not have known without her fellow fisherman who'd been at the scene of the crime).

In the video she kicks it with their foot and it spurts to life briefly, playing some garbled song before shutting off again. The tiny shrimp wriggle their legs.

There's a caption: ]

For the shrimps it is like living on music planet.. ❤️ :)

[ The caption took quite a bit of time to compose. Lots of deleting, undoing, backspacing, switching letters and pursuing the variety of hearts available to her on her keyboard. ]

( happy to write starters for more personalized scenarios! feel free to pm this is just all I have available in my brain for a toplevel...)

[handfast]

[ all this love and care she's put into her post and tragically all she gets back is a single ]

what

asa mitaka | chainsaw man

[warhawks]

[ catch-all for closed starters! feel free to pm or just wildcard me if you'd like something with her. ]

[justamobster]

[ Here's the thing-- Ladon Ceto lives on pancakes. They burn up nicely, they can be drowned in syrup, and he's always happy when his furnace stays nice and cool.

And he's good at making them, even if they aren't burnt. He's used to doing so for folks who don't prefer their food burnt. He was a fry cook for about a year in Garevia before he started robbing banks.

The latter was much more profitable, but for the time he was in the former position, he liked it.

And so he's fallen into the repetitive motion of making large flapjacks in a skillet over a burner, flipping them in the air to the amusement of some of the caravan children. And yes, he's smoking a tobacco-substitute cigarette as he does so, but he's good at keeping the ash out of the batter. He plops a big griddle cake in the plate of a caravan kiddo and bobs his head at the bottle of syrup nearby. ] Eat up, kiddo. Gonna need your strength for later, yeah?

[ And yeah. It smells really good. If Ladon's willing to sling some pancakes up for the caravan kids, there's a good possibility he'll make a few for a certain Wayfarer has found herself ravenous lately... ]

Elster | Signalis

[promisedotexe]

Reflect
[Having been scruffed out of the storm before - Dinobot’s intervention is appreciated, even if Elster is bad at expressing it to him - Elster is quick to get back out there when the weather turns for the better. She’s navigating the outcroppings in a methodical pattern, her scanner in her hands as she tromps over sand and glass. Every once in a while she does spare the glass outcroppings a closer look, but only in passing until she spots - it. It looks better than the photographs Elster’s seen before. Sharper.

Achtung! CW: death, click at your own risk

The Replika stands in a dimly lit bookshop. Her chestplate has been swapped out with white and blue ballistic armor. There’s a snub-nosed revolver belted on her hip. No weapons in her hands at the moment, though. She’s standing opposite of a woman in a white-and-green outfit, whose hair is in a long braid and face is covered with bandages and bloody scratches. Gauze is wrapped to cover her right eye.

And the woman’s body is turning black and red from the feet up like her body is suddenly losing the ability to hold itself together and she is in the middle of collapsing to the ground as though she’s melting away. In the reflection, Elster is drawn back, like she’s avoiding being touched by the woman’s reaching hand.

Elster stares at it for a while, her posture unconsciously mimicking her reflection’s as her degraded programming puts the Replika back through the moment. And eventually, with conviction...]

Forgive me.

Glimpse
[Elegance and Rēza occupy a lot of Elster’s thoughts for a while. They seem so happy together. It's a life to be envied.

Doesn’t matter. They had the life they had, and there’s no changing that.

When they stop at the oasis, Elster is quick to descend into it. There’s always a new hole for her to be jumping down, isn’t there? The Replika finds herself dipping hooves into the water...and something shifts in her.

There's a memory that doesn't fit with her life as she understands it. A memory of uniform legs and sleeves rolled up to keep them from getting wet, of regular feet burying toes in wet sand under water. For a moment, Elster glances toward the sky, half-expected to see a a shattered moon in orbit.

Elster’s hand presses over her right eye, her body language drawing in on itself. For a little while, she wades aimlessly in the shallows, albeit slowly gravitating toward an outcropping of flowers, and nearly mutters to herself.]

There’s something I’m supposed to do.

Reflect

[theroadpaved]

[The third time Castiel glances back at Elster, he gives in and turns around to haul himself and his dolly of equipment back over to where she's stood unnaturally still for a while now. He wasn't going to get involved. He was going to just put his head down and get through this shitty group hallucination hall of regrets, this cursed pathway, but...

Elster reminds him too much of painful things he's learned. It feels...cruel...to leave her to more.

Maybe it won't do any good at this point, but Cas still puts himself between her and the vision on the glass that he pointedly doesn't spend too long examining. They're memories he has no right to.] Elster.

a2 | nier automata | current player, open & closed starters

[abandonware]

DEBUT_.

[The past two days of travel have worn more on A2 than they would have, were she at 100% efficiency. She's been quiet for the duration as a result, taking point at the front of the group as a member of Security, and stays more focused on keeping an eye out for any threats. She is awed, however, at the sight of the great skeletons coming into view, and can't hide her wonder as they progress. Such an enormous creature... perhaps even larger the Goliath-class machine she'd encountered in the desert with Pod. That such a beast had existed and been worn down to bone and dust over what had to be decades...

As the sounds of the pilgrimage reach them, she finds that for once, she is more curious than wary. This is the largest and most diverse group she's ever seen in her short life, and the sight of non-organics among the group of singing travelers — a machine(?) as one of their leaders... it's beyond anything she had ever imagined. Beyond anything any android had imagined. Could androids had lived like this, had they chosen to abandon their eternal war? If they had instead left Earth and sought their precious humanity among the stars?

... A pointless thought. She decides to make herself useful instead. When talk of seeking out an oasis with these... vehicles comes up, she immediately takes to it, hopping on a sand skimmer and zipping along the dunes. She may zoom past with a sharp:]

Hey! Watch out!

[Or slow to a crawl to pick up another passenger if requested. She might even... wonder of wonders, be driving around just for the sake of it (A2 having fun... a miracle) or stopping in order to grab some bit of material she thinks may be useful for construction of a (temporary) sword. Given that she's a reckless and, uh, acrobatic driver, however, chances are she's not really following any terrestrial traffic laws.]

Hmm. [...] I wonder how fast this thing can go.

[Countdown before she inevitably does something insane.]

FIRESIDE_.

[The group exchanges their food and supplies generously, and although A2 attempts to demur she's encouraged to eat anyway. She takes a bite of the bread to appease the group of travelers and is relieved to note that it's... good. As someone who has only recently been introduced to the concept of "eating," she thinks that the bread is perhaps the best thing she's ever tasted. She is so distracted by her slow and methodical nibbling that she only notices a group of the younger caravan members gathering around her before it's too late for her to escape.

Something about A2's too cool for school demeanor appears to attract children of all kinds, and soon enough they are all clamoring around her asking for a story. And it isn't long before the other caravan members are urging her along too. She frowns down at her meal, put on the spot, and something about the expectant faces around her stills her immediate impulse to get up and leave. It reminds her of... of those first days among the Resistance androids, where they sat around a fire much like this and exchanged information carefully, trying to understand one another.

A painful memory. Did she have any that weren't?

...]

I don't have a lot of stories. [She admits at last. Her tone is quieter, more subdued than it was normally.]

But on my planet, there was a village of machines...

OASIS_.

[There's still the afterimage of the fractals behind her eyes when she comes upon the oasis. Not for the first time, she wishes Pod had accompanied her, but it seemed she would have to record these phenomena she was witnessing on her own. To what end, she's not sure. The pilgrims thought that beyond they would find something important, but for now they settle by the oasis for rest and water before heading out again.

A2's focus has returned to assistance: helping both the pilgrimage and her fellow teammates with making sure that they had enough water, keeping an eye out for anything remotely dangerous (it seemed that they were out of the woods for now), and despite being covered in the sand and dust of the desert, mostly skulking around the perimeter of the oasis like a restless cat without jumping in. Maybe she's just jumpy. Or shy? Or maybe she's back to thinking that anything resembling comfort is not for her... in any case, she may need some encouragement to jump in.]

WILDCARD_.

[If any of the above options don't appeal to you, feel free to hit up A2 with something else, or you can request a closed memory-related starter below by PMing this journal or reaching out via plurk to gravesinger.

In addition, please know this is her current vibe, cloak and all.]

REFLECT_. | CLOSED

[abandonware]

starters below.

dean winchester | supernatural | current player, ota

[imhilarious]

reflect.

[ Dean's more used to making his mission journeys by car in the grand scheme of things, but beggars and choosers and all that. He's still in decent spirits for the most part, as far as overall attitude goes: he'll be making the rounds to check in on anyone he knows and likes well enough, anyone who looks more than a bit younger than him, anyone who looks like they're particularly dead on their feet or struggling with keeping pace, oooooor anyone especially new to the party.

Just in case.

Nothing too special, nothing probing-- a how's it going over here?, a you good? Some basic greeting or opener, a wary eye, a steadying hand. Dean's always been less of a social butterfly and more of a social chameleon; and it's an approach he plans to keep leaning on, because if you're looking to keep people safe, that's usually the best way to go.

He'll probably default to hovering around Cas more than anything for the most part, but he finds his time to get out there. Feel free to assume he's drifted your way, what else is he gonna be doing?

As everyone starts working their way through the valley, as the reflections around them start to change, Dean goes ahead and shuts his shit right down like any good soldier ought to. Kinda his thing in life, regrets, failures, reasons to avoid looking in the mirror. And when there's technically a mission to think about, hell, that's all the excuse he needs to keep on avoiding.

There are images aplenty from his end, though:

⦁ Kneeling in the mud, holding his brother.
⦁ a boy standing in a bedroom doorway, shotgun down at his side, feeling the weight of the look on his dad's face.
⦁ Dean in a dark room at a table full of supplies (some weapons, some not), feet away from what looks to be man in chains. (The image-- flickers, sometimes, flashes to a different space bathed in dark red light, and their positions are reversed.)
⦁ Or maybe something more innocuous from the outside: in the doorway of a small house, embracing a woman. Making a phone call from a basic cabin. Standing at the edge of a reservoir holding a sodden coat. An exhausted teenager sitting at a nondescript motel room table with his head in his hands.

Many such cases, basically.

Dean's good at not looking at shit like this, but he carries the tension of it for the rest of this leg of the journey, expression shuttered. If he's got conversation to spare, he's trying to save it for fellow Wayfarers who seem to stop and get hung up on their own warped reflections. ]

Don't stop to think about it. [ Keeping it brusque, but not unkind. Since it's not like he can't relate. ] Sooner we make it outta Mindfreak Canyon, the better it's gonna be for all of us.

[ Since he can't just shatter these specific reflective surfaces to avoid having to see himself or whatever. Better to keep on soldiering through. ]


debut.

[ Okay, see? This is more like it. Maybe not the path of giant bleached bones so much, but finding the caravan. First goddamn contact, everyone stay calm it's okay it's just an alien caravan making a pilgrimage on the same road and they're cool with hitching wagons.

Anything that washes the metaphorical taste of that last valley out of his mouth is a huge plus right now, but Dean would be lying if he said he isn't-- well, maybe a little bit just plain excited. Gotta take that where you can get it.

He throws himself into helping with those "caravan ventures" without even pretending to put up a complaint. Having stuff to focus on, things that need to be taken care of, that goes a long way on the tail end of bad experiences. You just do things and take care of people and you don't have to think about anything you're avoiding! It's foolproof. ]

Plenty of "strangers in a strange land" to go around on this planet, huh? Hell of a way to get first contact with some aliens.

[ So yeah, he's back to his regular rhythm more or less. Back to those occasional check-ins with Wayfarers. Mostly he's integrating with the caravan a little. Getting involved with the hunting and gathering where he can since he's got the skillset for it, learning how to tune up and do patch jobs on the sand skimmers, kinda just. Pitching in wherever it looks like help is needed. Helping pick up something heavy, ration out food, do repairwork if it falls within his handyman capabilities. And every once in a while, Dean will be in step with some cluster of pilgrims with an alien kid in his arms (or hitching a piggyback ride).

He doesn't have to examine why it's nice, folding into this caravan, getting to be part of it for a while. He can just enjoy the ride and the sense of community while it lasts. ]


fireside.

[ Okay you know what, why not. Absolutely.

There's way less to say for this prompt just on principle, because Dean will allow himself to be wheedled into storytime eventually instead of just listening to other stories, but he's not gonna say jack shit about his actual life. Be so for real. It's bad enough that he knows about his life.

He is, however, gonna take his free permission to yap and impart upon these life forms some of his world's most vital legends, including but not limited to dramatic retellings of:

⦁ Die Hard
⦁ Various Scooby-Doo episodes
⦁ Some telenova he only saw fourteen episodes of that he doesn't remember the title so it's probably just the legend of Marta because he does remember her name
⦁ Google "cowboy movies." Find a list. Pick a random one off of it. Dean has probably seen it and therefore probably talks about it. Tombstone, True Grit, Blazing Saddles and Flaming Star (bear with him, okay, it had friggin' Elvis in it) are at the top of the Dean list, at the very least.
⦁ Finding Nemo? Yeah, Finding Nemo. You know, for the kids. ]


wildcard.

[ for all other miscellanious stuff! open to doing closed starters, figuring out other prompts, etc. also up for tossing a different reflection option out there, he has... many to offer. open for whatever, it's all good. hmu via PM or at comatoseroses! ]

reflect

[fisitronism]

[Compared to some of Dean's images, the desert glass displaying Ironfist's regrets appears innocuous. Just him, holding a vial of a shimmering green substance.

Ironfist shakes his head, looking away.]

You're right, sorry. Just wasn't expecting to see that here. Or ever again.

Fairy King Oberon | FGO | New Player

[morninglark]

Fireside

[He will not speak on what might’ve brought him here — of that strangle tumble into oblivion, so much like his endless abyss that he hadn’t realized the difference until it was too late. That upon being greeted by a small, friendly robot in a room coated in white, he’d nearly sent the poor thing ricocheting in a fit, demanding to be sent back. It takes some time, some calm deep breaths and a few middle fingers shot at no one in particular, but eventually—

He puts his makeup back on. Fluffs up hair. Reminds himself that until he gets some answers, he might as well be a fairy king again.

At least the expedition onto an alien planet tickles the imagination. Not a promise of boredom in sight. Can’t complain, there. And the caravan tickles at memories he’d much rather forget about; these are not his companions, just like this isn’t really his story, is it?

But then ‘round the fire, after he’s been stuffed so full of stew, he swears he’ll roll straight into that glass desert — there’s a call for jester on the stage. Far, far more polite than any fairy he’s ever entertained, the crowd asks for a good tale to send them off into the night, and — well. He’s feeling a touch nostalgic, he guesses]

Ah, very well then! Come, gather ‘round, weary travels! Your very own Fairy King has a tale to tell!

[Oh, don’t mistake him; he isn’t playing the fool alone. Whatever unlucky Wayfarer is caught in his web is being dragged along, with him placing a hand on their waist and literally twisting them into a waltz while the crowd explodes into laughter and applause.

Why? Because fuck you, that’s why he’s a prince! Of course!]

How about one from my Fairy Kingdom? That’d be a good one to start with, right?

[And for anyone cross enough to take a punch at his face: woefully, there is nothing he’s better at than dodging consequences. Tragic.]

Glimpse

[Mmm… the presence of an oasis would certainly encourage anyone to take a dip in those blessedly cool waters.

But the fairy king only drifts at the outskirts of the pool, hands on his hips and mouth pulled into a thin, unimpressed line when he thinks no one is looking. After a moment, he’ll at least kneel beside the water and start rummaging inside his robes for a pouch, the wings on his back twitching irritably in the heat.

Don’t get him wrong. It’s pretty to look at! Probably feels divine. But on god, he will not be joining anyone in that water.

Only because he can’t be bothered, truly. Not at all because he can’t swim worth a damn.]

Enjoying yourself? It looks quite refreshing, I must admit.

Wildcard

[ooc: hit me up in the dms or just shoot me a ooc reply here if you wanna do something specific!]

glimpse

[sunbeloved]

(whenever karna had heard that a man with wings like a butterfly had arrived, at first, he presumed it was coincidence. for his entire month's stay, he's been the sole servant among these wayfarers. it wasn't difficult to maintain his calm. everyone being of different paths, different walks of life, and even the few he's met personally were all among those he started fretting over a little in his own sense of the word. but he doesn't quite say anything about this....development. while oberon is on the shore, karna is hip deep in the oasis while attempting to make sure that the sand was washed out of his hair properly.

india doesn't have arid climates all over, but it does still have the typical problems that are within them whenever one finds themselves there. meaning, he's used to this as a step-up in comparison to the others. being alive again means maintaining care of one's body. it isn't like they can enter spirit form and carry on their day like they would've before this change of scenery.)

You should at least make sure that the sand is out of your shoes if you're fine enough, they didn't say anything whenever I washed my feet earlier.

(that....likely isn't what he meant to say, but if they both just pretend they're simply here and this is business as usual (it is, somewhat) then surely that also works, doesn't it? they're only missing their master. although karna doubts this is much of an improvement in general for what trials and tribulations they've all found ritsuka facing. whatever the case, he's keeping quiet on his thoughts and going to focus his energy elsewhere for the sake of being cordial.

....and likely because they both should count their lucky stars that everything is calmer than it had been in december.)

I expect us to not have a chance at water for some time....much less a chance to properly wash up, given we do need to conserve resources.

Castiel | Supernatural | current (ota; cw emetophobia)

[theroadpaved]

༺debut.

[Castiel hangs back when others go in search of the leaders of the caravan, falling into step beside a pair of elderly travelers. He listens to their origins, asks almost everyone their reasons for the pilgrimage, though the answers are largely the same. He's constantly snacking on something small, trading dried sections of fruit for jerky. When that ends up just leaving him ravenous he starts chewing on stems, bits of cloth or leather, and spitting into the sand.

Directed either by other Wayfarers or guessed by the equipment at his hip, children come to him with scratches or scrapes, burns from sun-baked glass or little puncture wounds from the bones. Castiel's gotten better at using the Medical Division equipment over the past month, but he's still not efficient enough to handle everything alone. Nobody with their own field kit looking to help out will be turned away.]

༺fireside.

[Castiel helps with their own camp equipment, but at one point wanders off when he notices some pilgrims struggling with the burdens of the lapho-beasts. He reaches up to stabilize, then remove some of the huge barrels likely five times his own bodyweight before settling them safely onto the sand. He maybe hangs around the beasts and their carers for a while, discussing the story of the Pilgrim there away from the fires, before some of the older children wander away and approach to ask for a story.

Castiel tells one then, sat upon the crooked arm of a beast he'd been helping brush clean, so far from the fire that most of him and them are cloaked in darkness, the chill of an unlit desert creeping closer. He tells a story of how man learned of fire over two million years ago.

His rough voice curls in the darkness as he recalls it, speaking as if he'd been there himself.] The very first person who thought to bring back embers was an adolescent girl, actually. On my planet, man evolved alongside apes- I know, [he says when someone gasps inside their aquatic helmet,] They're still doing it. Losing joints and behaviors. It's fascinating. Homo erectus had only just emerged a few thousand years earlier, but it was becoming more and more commonplace to carry with both hands. That's largely what helped her think of it; instead of gathering around the struck flame, she gathered it on a bed of twigs and shielded it, like this, [he cups a hand to his chest,] to protect the embers from the wind. She thought to move it after seeing the air carry sparks to another shrub. She was a genius.

And so proud of herself when she made it home. [Castiel's expression and voice dip into fondness.] Man still didn't work out how to create fire for some time, but her name lived on for a few thousand years afterwards as the first Hearthmother.

༻misc. + wildcard.

[Castiel can be commonly found in Dean's company, or pushing ahead like he knows where they're going and thinks he should get there first to check things out. He has no qualms lending out medical equipment but will hunt down anyone who doesn't return borrowed things and will take it back by force. He won't stop for much around the reflective formations, refusing to give any more than a cursory glance, but feel free to call him out on seeing something.

He can also be found occasionally vomiting, or even just trying to vomit, in the sand away from the caravan throughout their travels. He'll look particularly haggard around mealtimes, staring at other people's meals.

Once they come upon the lights in the dunes, Castiel will stare at them for long periods of time, even to the point of tripping over his feet because he doesn't want to look away. His expression is so pained it seems like he might cry, though he never really does.

If you'd like to discuss a starter or other option, feel free to hit me up with a DM or at gonewithouta!]

fireside

[fisitronism]

[Ironfist is also helping with the barrels. At his size the act is extremely trivial. There's slight concern from some of the pilgrims that he might accidentally damage the barrels but it turns out to be unfounded. His hands, while not medic grade, are more than dexterous enough for the task.]

Huh. I didn't think humans were capable of lifting that much mass unaided. Not without potentially hurting themselves, anyways.

claire novak — supernatural, new character, potential applicant(?)

[wiseass]

reflect.

[Going at it alone hasn't ever been a problem for Claire; in fact, these days, it's what she's used to. When the portal opened in front of her, Claire had a moment of blind hope that it was Kaia. Blind hope that was ultimately met with the typical letdown, crash out, and disbelief.

Then, clinical white walls, a talking bird, and outer space. If she weren't quasi-familiar with heaven, she would've thought she'd died, but this wasn't that, and it wasn't the peyote pipe-dream she'd been hoping for it to be either.

So, without Susie the Subaru to keep her company, she's had to go it alone. With more questions than answers, and a phone in the pocket of scuffed and dirty jeans that didn't work. Now just a glorified photo album.

Despite the scowl on her face and the tension in her spine, Claire's always been good at hitting the ground running. Sink or swim has been her sport since the first apocalypse that stole her cookie-cutter family life along with it.

She's layered up for the desert wear, her hair is tied into a tight French braid, and she's fashioned a scarf out of extra fabric that covers her head and face when needed.

Now, though, it's not necessary as the light starts to dwindle and afternoon crests toward evening, she's slowed her pace to take in the large shards of glass that are poking through the earth. Towering, ominous, glittering beacons that beckon her closer.

When she steps forward, though, she doesn't like what she sees.

The image in the trif-fold geometric array in front of her has her in blue lowlight, beside Kaia. tears welling up in her eyes. She's holding her hand, begging without words for her to stay — to just hang on a little longer, but none of them have time. She knows that. She knows it even as she's pulled away by Dean, and what she didn't vocalize then is shouted out now.]

No!!

[ The first blunt object she can find is blunt, some sandstone, and she slams it into the glass with an angry blow that echoes over the expanse around them in an agonizing shriek.

If it's another portal, she's going to get through it or make her knuckles and palm bloody trying. ]

fireside.

What? No Kumbaya? When I was little, we had deep and wide. With sign language.

[ Sharing stories? Too intimate for her liking, and while she listens to the more positive anecdotal ones, she only does so marginally. The glow of the fire and its warmth are what keep her rooted to the spot. ]

Okay, okay. I've got one.

So, once... There was this boy and this girl. I don't know how I can be any more obvious. He was a punk, and she did ballet.

glimpse.

[ After making it to the canyons, Claire can't resist the opportunity to clean herself for the trip and all her troubles. She wakes up early to get into the water before anyone else will bother, and even though it's brisk, she forces herself in because the light of the day keeps pace quickly and would warm her up sooner than allow her to stay cool.

In the water, she pulls her hair out of the braid one by one in small rivulets, separating the sections to stroke the sand and grit out of her hair. The dirt fans out in ripples, and with patience and dedication, she gets it off of her skin and out from under her nails.

She's not completely naked, but she is topless, and so, when she hears a stick snap nearby, she surges forward in the water to a rock closer to the shoreline for her knife and brandishes it with piercing blue eyes and a taut, thin line of a frown. ]

Okay, chuckle fuck, if you're done with the peep show, you can come out and get your ass back to camp before I make you a pin cushion.

wildcard

[ feel free to write your own prompt from the provided tdm prompts, or spin your own take on what I have written before or after the hook! i'm easy ;) i can be found on plurk at doggos and on disco at newdlle ]

fireside

[flavourtown]

[ Jiaoqiu has been half-listening to the stories the Wayfarers are telling, focusing more on his cooking. As a chef, he has thrown himself wholeheartedly into the role here, and he's been tending a fire and grill while preparing a meal made half of ingredients found on the planet, half from the pilgrims and their stasis chests of preserved food.

The result: fluffy scrambled eggs alongside slices of cactus doused with lime and tomato, diced and skewered Speckled Runner meat, and a salsa on the side. Because not everyone here can handle the level of spice he prefers, he's made two versions, which he's doling out after asking everyone their preference.

At the start of another Wayfarer's story, Jiaoqiu nods sagely. ]

Two beings of such opposite preferences⸻ always a solid basis to form a dynamic on. I assume this is a romance?

[ He picks up another plate, and starts doling out food onto it, intending to hand it to her. ]

Ah, and⸻ spicy or mild?