polylogs | Carcosa, pt. 2

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Carcosa, pt. 2

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.

Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?

You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.

The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.

You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!

Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.

What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.

The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.

Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.

And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!

Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!

2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)

3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.

Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.

Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?

Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!

Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.

2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.

Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!

Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!

Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.

You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!

Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.

2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.

3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.

You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?

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( The enthusiasm presents zero problems for Chloe. On the contrary, she's delighted to see it. Not to mention that her own zest is able to come more freely to the fore with the help of liquid courage. )

Of course for you! It really is the very least I could do.

( His question is answered with a megawatt smile and her taking a seat. He even requested her to join him - how lovely! What a truly nice man and, without the looming threat of zombies, no doubt he's entertaining company as well. Though he was pretty funny with the looming threat of zombies.

She does notice the kitten chomping on his finger and takes the liberty of scooping up the little fluffball. )

Oh no no no, let's not bite, hmmm? Treat Anders nicely, please.

( She keeps hold of the kitten to prevent any further mischievous antics. And because it's a kitten. )

You seem to have your hands full with them. Liberated from the pet shop, I take it?

Don't be too hard on him. No one treats Anders nicely, [ he laments with a sigh, wiggling his bitten finger (as he realizes it's actually been bitten, his murderous little assailant pulled away).

Anders slides the glass in front of him over, taking a generous swig of the questionably fine liquid inside. Once you've had the ritewine, most drinks are palatable, at the very least. And even if this one isn't exactly a fine Antivan brandy, it's still far better than watery whiskey that smells of waterlogged, moldering cask and poor choices. ]

Hardly! They're perfectly well-behaved. [ For cats, anyway. The little pinprick claws he feels sinking into his neck are just a minor sacrifice to bask in their fuzzy charms. ]

I just thought they could use a little escape from their boring old pen. Why let everyone else have all the fun?

( Silent, Chloe blinks at him a couple of times as though she's heard something unbelievably shocking. Which, to her, it is. Why would that possibly be the case? Unless he's joking? He doesn't exactly sound like he's joking.)

How could anyone not treat you nicely?

( A genuine question from a genuinely perplexed android. She holds the kitten up to her face, as if a look alone would tell the animal that they need to be a fuzzy bundle of joy and a not a source of mauled fingers. When she settles the kitten back against her, she strokes it as though she's apologising for her non-existent sternness. )

Oh no, I don't disagree with you. I'd love to scoop up all the animals and take them away with me. That would be quite the smuggling operation, though. I'd need a lot of pockets.

Oh, believe me, there are a lot of ways.

[ That one's half a mutter, as he continues to indulge in his latest drink. The other glass is nearly empty, anyway, shuffled off to the side where no wayward paws might get at it. He's already used to playing keep-away, thanks to Ser Pounce. ]

You'd need a whole outfit made of pockets!

[ But this subject he seems to latch onto a little more enthusiastically, clearly amused by the picture he's painted in his own head. ]

Probably cost quite a bit to have tailored. Maybe it'd be smarter just to recruit. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would be sympathetic to your cause. Especially with a face like that.

( That is a statement Chloe wants to pick apart. Only it doesn't strike her as the best idea. Normally her expression wouldn't be quite so telling but right now, she peers at him through more narrowed eyes as she tries to fathom what some of those ways might be - and why.

Her features relax and settle into a smile as the energy shifts to one that's more jovial. Covering all those unpleasant, uncomfortable things with a grinning veneer is a tactic she recognises. Which makes her far more inclined to go along with it.

Well, that and who needs all the negativity anyway? It can rest for a night. A sympathetic ear can always be found in Chloe but sometimes there needs to just be a little room to breathe. What's really so wrong with having a bit of fun? )

Do you think so? Would you be my first recruit? I could definitely use your charms and wit. I'm not sure if my most plaintive face...

( To demonstrate, Chloe clasps her hands together under her chin, all doe eyes and pouty lips. )

...Will be quite enough. But you, you definitely have a way about you. A je ne sais quoi.

[ Anders snorts into his drink, almost choking on his coughing laugh. The kitten on the table jumps at the sound, and the little rattle of the table beneath its paws, frizzing up and bouncing into a tiny, startled hop. ]

What is that? Orlesian for something dirty?

[ Not that the two aren't pretty much synonyms. (Or that he doesn't doubt that, but still.) ]

No, I think your pleading face could get you anything you could ever want just fine. But I'd be happy to help, just in case.

( The first thing she does is give him a pat on the back to try and help with that choking. The second thing she does is search her databanks for 'Orlesian'. Which yields no results. Not so strange, considering there have been a few things she has no frame of reference for.

She leans in a bit closer to speak to him in a stage-whisper. The kitten she's been cradling for Anders' safety takes to swiping and biting at her hair. )

I don't know what any of that means.

( When she sits back, it's with a good-natured giggle. )

But I do know that most don't appreciate a lady pouting like that. A lady should smile. That's what I've always been told. And you are certainly a person to make people smile. In my humble opinion. Maybe it would be best if you spearheaded this operation.

Oh, well, lucky you.

[ Ah, to know nothing of Orlais or Orlesian pretensions. Truly, she is blessed.

Though maybe not in all ways. Anders reaches up to steady the now rather more awake kitten sprawled across the back of his shoulders, as it wobbles in an attempt to snag his ponytail again as he shakes his head. ]

I couldn't possibly! Mages are more about providing support, you know - we aren't really fond of the front lines. And besides, I'd be a terrible face to put on it, if we're going to concern ourselves with what other people might think.

Oh, but now I’m intrigued. Is that where you’re from, if you don’t mind me asking?

( She just about manages to detangle the kitten from her hair, holding the furball close. Not that it seems to deter those paws from trying to catch the blonde strands. It doesn’t bother her unduly – her focus is much more on Anders. )

Ah. Now we find ourselves in quite a conundrum. You see, I’m much more of a supporting player myself. Not to mention that I really don’t agree with your face being a terrible one.

( Considering the curious look she gives him, she might as well have just asked outright why he seems to have this opinion of himself. Though she doesn’t push it any further, and shares something of herself instead. )

Though I’m not entirely unfamiliar with being the face of something… But between you and me, there are plenty of people who aren’t too fond of this face either.

Orlais? Maker, no. I'm from Ferelden - much more respectable place, even if it must be steeped in mud and dog shit.

[ Watching her struggle with that little ball of fluff and tiny kitten claws, Anders perhaps takes pity - summoning a small, green wisp in his open hand. It bobs around the table, catching little kitten gazes and luring the one trying to tangle itself in her hair to swiping at it, instead. ]

I can't imagine why.

[ Even a little bit drunk, his overtly flirtatious tone is an obviously teasing one, as is the dumb grin that accompanies it. ]

Ah, well. We'll both just have to keep our gorgeous faces out of the limelight for now, then, I suppose. I'm sure between us we can find someone more willing to start a revolution on our behalf.

What's it like there? That colourful description aside.

( Almost as entertained by the wisp as the kittens, and unquestionably entertained by their antics with the wisp, Chloe probably comes across as not listening. The watchful eye kept on the kittens doesn't mean Anders has completely lost her attention.

A glance in his direction to assure him of the fact her mind hasn't wandered off entirely into kitten-and-wisp land means she catches the grin. It in itself makes her grin back. Inwardly, she cringes. The why he can't imagine is an ugly truth and not one for this conversation. Or any conversation, for that matter.

Chloe waves a hand to playfully dismiss it. )

Oh, you really wouldn't want to know.

( The second time she feels that same cringe, she can't stop her expression darkening for a second. Yes, she would know quite a bit about someone finding another to start their revolution. It's enough to make her take pause. She does her best to pass it off as being overly thoughtful before finding the right tone again. )

You know, we could be going about this all wrong. Why not have the kittens be the face? Who would deny adorable little kitties? And those that would... Well, we'd know who should not be allowed into the glorious rebellion then.

Oh, it's not all bad. Even if it rains more often than not, and the fog's thicker than a stone wall and just as easy to see through. It's very green. And the trees that don't shamble about and attack anything that moves can be quite pretty.

[ There are few things Anders could claim to really like about Ferelden (most from simple lack of experience), but it has its nicer facets. Inoffensive, at least.

Of course, when she tells him he wouldn't want to know something, that makes him want to know it all the more. Especially when he was just kidding with that remark, to begin with, anyway. Especially when that dark cloud crosses over her cheery facade.

...But something tells him asking outright won't yield any answers. Not convincing ones, at any rate. So he follows the latter half of that thought, instead, twirling his fingers and sending the wisp rolling and bobbing the other side of the table. ]

You might be onto something, there. Whether one is fond of cats or not is always a solid test of character. Clearly, we both pass.

The trees attack things? Are they trying to reclaim the land? Or are they just a little thorny?

( There's a little smile from her. Despite it not being much of a laughing matter, Anders seems like the type to appreciate a joke. Or the best approximation of a joke Chloe feels she can make.

Half expecting some questioning, she's relieved when there isn't any. Best not to get all dreary. She has a terrible habit of being so very serious. Cheery, but serious. A fine balance struck between being pleasantly personable without seeming air headed that's suitably within the parameters of her creator's personal preference.

Tests of character is another topic that makes a gloomy moment threaten. This time she manages to push it aside before it can take hold and anything can register on her face. )

Of course we do! I have no doubts about your character. Now, the question is what do we call ourselves? This kitten liberation effort needs a name, don't you think? Something catchy. For our calling cards.

[ She's just lucky he's onto her, or she probably would have had to save him from choking on his drink, this time. As it is, Anders manages to hold back the laugh that threatens - at least until he's managed to clear his airway for it. ]

Just a tad possessed, actually. Some demons simply have aspirations of height none of us could ever hope to achieve, I suppose.

[ Or maybe they just thought people too potentially squishy? Who knows - he's never had the opportunity to stop and ask, so certainly not him. ]

Our calling card? Wouldn't that just be leaving a trail of kittens everywhere we go?

Demons possess trees?

() There's a lot of information to be taken in from his comment. Her processing certainly isn't up to speed at the moment, her expression cycling through bemusement and fascination. It settles on the latter. )

Go on, if you don't mind? Your home sounds... Well, I've never heard of anything like it. Not that I mean that badly, not at all.

( He could probably gather that anyway but she clarifies just in case. Her eyes sparkle with intrigue and while she idly pets the nearest kitten, her attention is on her non-feline companion. )

Leave them? Oh no, I thought we'd take them all and create a kitten utopia. A place filled with yarn balls and catnip as far as the eye can see.

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Carcosa, pt. 2

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