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⸻ tdm

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

❝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)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whomst?

[ Bea Valentine. Early 20s (mentally and in looks). Combat android with magical augmentations. Wielder of a mythical weapon, Mjolnir. Member of a interastral peacekeeping organization called the Seraphim Knights. Volunteered to go on a dangerous mission to the edge of the known universe to investigate a new threat, which one thing lead to another and then she's here. ]

Arrival

[ Bea wasn't expecting to wake up to a completely new universe when she fell into that black hole, but in hindsight it does tickle her brain a little to confirm that black holes are gates to another universe. The astrophysicists back home would be so jealous.

Once she's out of the medbay, Bea decides to wander around the Theorem acting like nothing is strange. With a curious gaze at everything and everyone in her path, Bea struts around with her hands behind her back like she's in a museum - if museums allow touching because Bea will be out on the ship just touching everything interesting she sees. That's a nice sign! Touch. Is that a camera? Touch. Oh sweet a gun! Touch touch touch

Bea wanders far, so it wont be strange to see someone in the new arrival clothes just loitering around places like the Mess Hall, the Library, the Docking Bay. Just observing everything like a curious kid. She might even touch you! To tap on your shoulder, not something awful. She has a question, you see, asked in the most monotone voice ever. ]

What are you supposed to be?

Debut

[ Thanks to her training as a Seraphim Knight, Bea is actually used to these kinds of excursions. Arriving on the planet's surface, she is now clad in more practical clothes suited for her new job as one of the Security personnel. She has her rifle slung on her back, a vest on her torso to carry her necessities, very soldierly except for the pair of shorts she decided to wear.

Anyone who looks at her bare legs just gets a shrug. ]

I love how the colors match my vest, is all. Fashion, baby.

[ She heard talk of splitting up between hunting and boarding the sand skimmers ]

Fireside

[ Bea loves stories. She loves hearing all sorts of them, from epic tales to hot gossip. In turn she enjoys telling stories too, of heroism and far away worlds where she's from. But, being a newbie Bea decided to stay her tongue for a bit while the entire expedition rests for the night. She sips on the broth in her bowl, deciding to find a place to settle for the story-telling marathon.

With her hands full, she gently taps her foot on the other person's ]

Nice spot you got. Mind sharing?

[ Bea asks, shrugging and showing how much stuff she has on her hand, a bowl in one and a drink in another for a very hungry girl. ]

Glimpse

[ The sight of the mountains and the strange lights gave even the well-traveled Bea a pause. She lowers the scarf on her face to better appreciate the awe-inspiring sight, wishing she has her own camera from back home to capture an image.

But the pilgrimage must go on, and on she marches with the herd. Arriving at the oasis felt like such a boon. Even as an android, her lowered energy make her as vulnerable to exhaustion as a human, and the water is something her body desperately craves to cool its systems down. Once her internal temperature evens out, she hears talk of people taking a dip in the water. Oh is she glad that she already got some drinking water before that happened...

But now the idea is planted in her head, she can't help but want to join in on the fun! She follows the crowd of Theorem's crewmembers and asks if she can join, then leaving her belongings on the side next to a rock. ]

Are we separated by gender or is it a free for all?

[ She doesn't see any issue bathing with boys and non-binaries, but she knows the organics get weird about that so she figured it wont hurt to ask ]

[ One of the people she gets an odd look from is Sunday, in the process of doing a final check to make sure everything is secured on the sandskimmers. Is he being a little paranoid? Yeah probably but what if he didn't check for the third time and everything fell off-- what then! ]

Hm. And they do match very nicely. However...

[ Really, Sunday doesn't actually care all that much how anyone chooses to dress themselves aesthetically - but it's just, even if it is quite hot here, the sand can be quite abrasive. On top of that, sunburn is no joke - especially for anyone not used to operating at a normal human level. In any case, nothing immediately gives her away as an android to him (and therefore potentially not needing to worry? as much? about her skin), so the look he gives her is certainly one of vague concern more than anything. ]

You might reconsider for the ride, at least, in case any sand gets kicked up. Some of it might as well be glass splinters at high speeds. [ A pause, as he considers some past experiences. ] ... do you need sunscreen, by the way?

[ The look he gives her is something she always gets even back home. That baffled look from her usual antics that she intends to continue here, because why not? It's always amusing to see. ]

Nope. Never needed it before, so I didn't think of getting it.

[ Her first hint that she's an android. She kind of wants to see how long until he figures it out. She rubs her palms, determined to go on a skimmer like she's looking forward in getting in a roller coaster. ]

Is it ready? I wanna see how fast it can go.

[ Sunday frowns a little at her dismissal and considers arguing. He's known at least person here who came from a world with no sun whatsoever that had been in for a rude awakening, and certainly a few others who'd found themselves more vulnerable than they were used to. But... well, it's her skin at the end of the day. If she's sure... ]

If you change your mind, there's extra in the supplies. Anyway - almost. One last check, then it's all yours.

[ He climbs into it for this check, as he's just making sure this one, too, has its emergency repair and med kits secured where they're meant to be. Which they are. So he says, and it may truly be a mistake saying this while he's still in the vehicle rather than after he's disembarked: ]

Okay.

[ And without a second thought or warning, Bea climbs up the craft with surprising agility for someone standing over six feet tall with a decent amount of muscle. Bea may be weaker than she normally is, but her skills remain. So is her recklessness.

She gets on board and finds the control panel. Her fingers wiggle as temptation overcomes her, pushing random buttons and making the craft rumble. ]

Oh- Woops. Sorry sorry. Wrong button. Uhhhh... let's see... This one?

[ And off their craft goes, zooming forward at high speed! ]

[ He has just long enough to recognize the potential danger and to start to cry out ]

No, wai--

[- but not long enough to do anything other than start to turn, eyes widening at the rumble, and then! he loses his balance and tumbles against one of the seats at the sudden acceleration. ]

--Aaugh!

[ Sucks to be him! It takes him a bit to clamber up from his heap and into the copilot seat before he loses his balance again, gripping it tightly as he glares at the back of her head. ]

What are you doing? Do you even know how to pilot this thing!?

[ He did not miss hearing that 'Woops' or that 'wrong button'!! ]

How hard can it be?

[ Bea asks so calmly, hands on the controls and getting a feel of it while the craft speeds away. Bea ignores the cries of others as they watched Bea take off at top speed, but she's got the basics down. All she needs to do is slow down. Don't mind her making the craft drift before it even starts to slow down. The rumbling of the entire machine didn't move Bea much at all but it's probably different for a lightweight organic person. ]

See? I got it.

[ She reassures him, sneaking in a little "yay" there under her breath. ]

[ How hard can it be!! She asks How hard can it be? He simply cannot imagine jumping into a vehicle and just pressing buttons willy-nilly like this, and consequently Sunday wants to scream again.

He does not, however, showing admirable self-restraint as he instead takes a steadying breath. He doesn't release the death grip he has on the edge of the seat as it rattles, and he's thrown a bit to the side in the drift. ]

Do you now.

[ Even though he can feel them begin to decelerate, he doesn't exactly sound convinced. ]

[ Bea starts to get the vessel to slow down to a reasonable speed, stabilizing it enough for it to look like it's going to be a smooth ride from here on out... ]

Yeah! Yeah...

[ Bea winces a little, standing on her tip toes to see ahead of her despite already being freakishly tall. All seems good, until... ]

Wait, where are we supposed to go again?

[ Little by little he relaxes as the vehicle slows, and he's just considering letting go of the chair when she asks that. His headwings flare in a distinct display of irritation -- at least his anger towards her cavalier attitude towards all this is pushing him past the initial panic, right? That's something. ]

Ahaha - of course you didn't even check the route before rushing in to joyride, did you? We're supposed to be heading north-west.

[ Honestly, her legs being exposed to flying debris is really starting to seem like the least of her problems. Aeons... he has his satchel with him, doesn't he? Oh good, that didn't get left behind. Hopefully he's still got enough signal on his tablet to pull up what's been mapped and projected of the planet. ]

BUFF

DEBUFF

Bea Valentine | OC | New Player

Debut - i'm assuming she's not wearing her bodysuit under the shorts but pls correct me if wrong!

Yeah, she's not wearing her bodysuit. She lives dangerously.

hell yeah

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sorry for my delay. i've been sick and sleeping most of my free time but finally on the mend \o/

Welcome back, I hope the recovery is going well!

thank you! it is indeed. every day i have a more energy it's great. amazing what breathing does

\o/ I'm glad!

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FIRESIDE >>

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arrival

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