polylogs | Something in the air...

Entry tags:

Something in the air...

✖ The Isle That Blooms

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
This is the first isle you can smell before you see it rising on the island. It starts with the faint hint of growing things that blossoms into a floral scent that teases you with the combination of familiarity and the unknown. The next breeze seems to carry you closer even as it coats everything in a delicate wash of golden pollen that only the Ferryman seems to be able to avoid.

Do you like your lips to taste the gritty sweetness? Or are you already starting to sniffle? Either way, the island starts as a smudge then turns into a riot of color as it reveals itself.

The Isle that Blooms lives up to its name as flowers vie in a silent war of roots and strangling vines to cover every viable surface with sprays of color and vibrant pulsing life. There are signs of human life in the form of a village built on stilts and full of little anachronisms like a glowing neon sign that hint that the island sees a large number of Travelers come through this place.

And who wouldn’t be drawn to the abundant flora, brightly painted houses, and lively locals?

Everyone seems to be glowing with health as the locals gather near the dock to welcome the latest set of tourists. They come with arms full of flower wreaths and friendly smiles, clearly in control of their faculties and interested in trade. Their clothing is as bright as the paintings on their buildings, as the flowers that surround them, and perfect for the warmth of the day.

Do you notice, though, the absence of any babies or prepubescent children? Or that while there are old people, no one shows signs of the infirmities that come with age? It might be easy to miss, especially as the Isle starts to affect you, too.

The ache in your back from that terrible fall, the craving for that next drink, the trauma that’s too close to the surface, all the petty hurts the build up in a lifetime start to fade as you, too, start to bloom.

Notes:
1. NO GUNS are allowed on this island. The Ferryman will keep them safe for you.

2. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the color of your Scrywatch.

3. Any type of flower could exist on the island, blooming somewhere, regardless of its real world requirements. Rare ones are difficult to find and magical ones need a check in with the mods.

4. There is nothing preadolescent of any animal species on the entire island, including insects.

5. The island’s ability leaves people as the healthiest, most energetic version of their current selves. Examples: A blind person in otherwise good mental and emotional health would notice minimal changes. A person with a disorder would find themselves having a string of good days. A 50 year old probably hasn’t felt this good since their thirties.

Ⅱ. THE TEMPLE
Orchids in shades of yellow and pink so bright they glow have been trained to grow along the walkways and bridges of the elevated village to guide Travelers to this island’s Temple. The building stands alone at the edge of the Village, extending out in the ocean of flowers that fill most of the isle.

The temple is made of simple stout wood that has been carved and painted in patterns ornate and lovely in a way that speaks of hundreds of hours of creation and maintenance. The same orchids that guided you here gild building and act as camouflage the sleeping porches ring the outside. They are kept private and safe from insects by fine netting, and you will find the bedding soft and fine.

This Temple’s Guardians are a pair of lazing cats with strange spots and scaly wings that regard you with affectionate disinterest as you explore the facilities. There are toilets and sinks, but no baths or showers. The pantries are stocked with edible flowers and fresh fish and the space and tools to cook. If you are brave enough, the Guardians will probably give you practical advice on how to use those supplies. There are new clothes and sandals better suited to the heat, and even practical machetes.

Notes:
1. The Main Temple is still open to those who are brand new to PM.

2. There are paints and carving tools if you want to add to the temple decorations. (Maybe mention it during the Oracle Event if you do.)

3. All fabric items are ridiculously bright and vaguely tie dyed.

4. The marker orchids have a distinctly strong smell of vanilla with a hint of lime.

Ⅲ. THE LOTUS BATHS
CW: fantasy setting drugs.
There’s only so long a person can stand to be covered in pollen, and when you ask the locals, they grin. Oh, you want a bath? There’s a path back to the ground and through the tall flowers to a natural spring. Make sure to head out early, they warn.

It’s always better to be in the village before nightfall, and you are clearly going to take a while.

As you walk the winding path to the baths, the everpresent flowers seem to thin out and even disappear as ground warms and rock rises from rich soil. You can smell the mineral richness of the bright blue pools that form waterfalls over a series of rising ledges. There is life, though, even here, in the form of delicate lily pads that float in rafts around vivid lotus flowers.

If you test the water, you’ll find it’s warm enough to melt the knots out of muscles and make it easy to understand why the few bathers seem to be so languid and relaxed. If you sink all the way in, well, not only will you manage to get clean, but you might find yourself mellowing out even more. So mellow you’ll hardly notice when the pleasant hallucinations start.

You’ll find yourself drawn into visions of your most private joys and of the pleasures you keep to yourself. Maybe it’s a matter of shame or maybe it’s because they’re too precious. There’s one small problem, though. If someone else gets in the same pool, not only will they start to share the same vision, but you’ll start to see theirs too.

Will the fantasies become a nightmare or will you manage to navigate them together? Will you ever be able to look at each other the same way again?

Notes:
1. The hallucinations will end when you leave the water, but only once you and your bathing partner are both out.

2. The flowers are magical and will affect everyone, even robots or super powered people.

Ⅳ. NIGHTBLOOMING
CW: abduction, violence.

You are warned to stay in the elevated village at night. The flower fields are safe enough during the day, but things happen at night. It’s hard to imagine during the day when stingless bees that glitter in jewel colors bumble along and hummingbirds the size of chihuahuas feed from the abundant flowers while squeaking their strong opinions at each other.

But as the moon rises, and most of the flowers close, there’s rustling sounds that make it clear that there are big things moving through that growth. Things that make the hair rise up on the back of a person’s neck. It would take a big prize to make it worth finding out what makes those sounds. A big prize or a reason to face your fears.

There’s a scream in the night. You can ignore it, of course. Not everyone is meant to run towards the scream. It might not even change the color of your ScryWatch.

But if you go to the source of the sound you’ll find a mother weeping openly while other locals gather around to comfort her. It seems her teenager decided that the best way to woo their lover was with glowing flowers that only open under a full moon. The teen has been gone for hours, and the grim expressions on the people around you say his chances aren’t good.

You have a choice to make. Will you go into the dark to face the unknown dangers? Will you offer some other form of comfort? Or will you go back to hide in the safety of the Temple?

Notes:
1. The danger in the flowers consists of six foot tall nocturnal orchid mantises who have the teen pinned in a tree. They are currently singing a human language lullaby to the kid to get them to go to sleep and fall out of the tree.

2. The mantises have a hive mind and will retreat if one of their number is killed, but can also be talked to and negotiated with. They will be willing to trade a regular supply of fish for no longer hunting people.

Ⅴ. SPECIAL EVENT: THE FLOWER ORACLE
In the center of the village, there is a giant flower bud that is bigger than a man is tall. The villagers tell you that you are lucky. You will be here when the Flower Oracle blooms. You will have a chance to speak directly to the Ancient One through the Oracle, and She even answers. All it takes is a little sacrifice.

Notes:
1. During the week of July 12-18, there will be a special event post where characters can choose to interact with the Flower Oracle for a chance to be rewarded, get an answer, get silence, or get punished by the Ancient.

2. Any starter posted during this window will be honored, specifics to come.

3. This event is optional!

Bonus: music to watch the flowers bloom to.

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gideon bets he's a cavalier. Not that everyone here is from the Nine Houses (probably). She wishes they had actual swords. Though she considers rapiers toothpicks, they are metal toothpicks. It's still the closest thing to her normal schedule.

Before she fights like in Drearburgh, Gideon manages to stop and think. Peering at the stranger, Gideon does the 'honorable' thing. "What do you fight to?" Gideon asks. "What stops it. Declares a winner."

Sephiroth cuts himself a straight branch with his machete and deftly trims off the twigs. He glances up at her.

"Generally, it stops when my opponent decides they've had enough." The winner has never been in question, but some last longer against him than others.

Then again, everyone here is from some other planet. She might surprise him.

The terms, roughly, of the duel between the Second and Sixth Houses. Even more cocky. Gideon misses Camilla, misses Palamedes. At least one of them is probably still living. It also reminds her of Aiglamene. "Right back at you," Gideon says. She knows nothing about him, but good judgment's never been an accusation she's faced.

As soon as he's in a ready position, Gideon hurls herself and her makeshift sword at him. Aggressive, fast, powerful movements. The restraints are, mostly, off.

The confidence is refreshing; he doesn't intimidate her. But then, is there really anything intimidating about a roughly-shorn tree branch? It hardly threatens mortal danger.

Sephiroth is far less aggressive, to start; he wants to get a sense of her strength before he takes the offensive. He remains confident--smug, even, smirking as he parries her attacks. His movements are quick and efficient, undramatic. A quick sidestep if it will carry him out of the path of a strike.

He reminds Gideon of the Second House as they fight. The technique of someone who has practiced as long as he's walked. The experience of someone who's fought outside dueling tournaments. Aiglamene would approve of the parries. Not simply blocking. The branch vibrates up her arm each time they connect. The daylight gets hazy. Their movements seem to slow as Gideon observes, adjusts, and attacks again.

She doesn't slow down, doesn't get more labored breathing. Gideon continues as though the sword--the branch--is part of her own body. He looks Eighth. Could be Colum's height. He should have gotten to die fighting. She knows that one wasn't her fault. She still fights the nearly colorless man the way Colum the Eighth deserved.

She's good. Better than a fair number of men who call themselves SOLDIERs. Most of those men are simply... good enough. Strong enough to handle the average monster and keep the general populace in line. Not good enough to go toe-to-toe with him.

Accordingly, he shifts gears, not simply parrying but countering. Putting more of his strength into his strikes. People don't usually last long against this, but--

It's the branch that fails first, the wood snapping as his makeshift sword slams into hers.

Not that he seems inclined to stop for it.

Gideon growls at the branch for being made of wood, too weak to hold up against an onslaught of strikes and blocks. Her sword would never do her dirty like this. Parry! she hears Aiglamene command (again and again and again because Gideon blocked blows by instinct, the kind of move she can get away with with a two hander). A deep breath. Exhale. Her posture shifts toward that of a rapier.

Foul as it is, Gideon parries and sidesteps and sticks close to him to deny him the advantage of reach. She presses against him, refusing to stay purely defensive. It's easier than her last opponents. He has two arms, two legs, a normal shaped head, no stinger or giant mandibles or shooting poison. "Your sword's at half mast," Gideon jokes.

"Do you mean to insult me?" Taking jabs with words because she won't be able to keep up?

The end of the broken branch is jagged and sharp. Maybe its reach is shorter but it may be more dangerous, especially if he forgets himself, as he's prone to do in the face of any actual challenge. He still wears a faint smirk, and he's growing more aggressive now, striking with the aim of disarming her, or seeking openings to stab. (Sephiroth, no. We weren't trying to do a murder.)

Gideon rolls her eyes. "Take a joke, friend," she says. "Mine is as well." When she's not acting as though under a vow of silence, there's usually some amount of commentary. Even in the everyone dies at the end battles. Especially those. No reason to hold back (P.S. it can then be awkward when you live).

She keeps a firm grip and misses the knuckle knives. He's fought, she can tell. In something of length more on the Noniad side of things than quick dueling bouts. Good. Gideon's happy to go all day.

He may be bad with humor, but he understands double-entendres involving swords are aimed at a certain anatomy, which he presumes she doesn't have.

It's her response, though, that earns a curt laugh from him. "Oh, don't mistake me for a friend."

Another forceful strike snaps his branch again, and-- Okay, that... might put a damper on their fun. It's little more than a 'hilt' now. Barely even a dagger. He'll dance back from her attacks if he needs to, discarding the remains of the makeshift weapon.

"Oh God," Gideon groans, swears, but it's not at him. She shoves the thought away and follows after him. "You're one of those types?" She uses the butt of her 'sword' in an attack. Its roughly cut but still good for blunt force trauma.

She gives him space once he no longer has a weapon, though she stays light on her feet. "I don't care what you want to call it so long as we keep getting to do this." Actually, that isn't quite true. Gideon doesn't think she's in any danger of random dude trying to take it too far in that direction.

"What type is that?"

Seeing that she's keeping her distance, his eyes shift to scan the trees again, contemplating a new weapon. "This would be better with weapons that would hold up." He draws his machete, thoughtfully, but... it would probably break, too.

He misses his Masamune.

"If you've seen a blacksmith, let me know," Gideon says. It's snark but serious. She twirls her machete casually, catching it by the handle. The temple is hard to judge. She's not sure whether she could get another one.

Gideon rolls her head in a circle, keeping loose and limber. "Broody better-than-thou weight of the world on your shoulders type," Gideon answers. If she keeps going on much longer, she'll only describe Harrow. "In case you didn't notice, we're dead. No more world to worry about."

Sephiroth shrugs. "I think you really have mistaken me for someone. I'm not concerned for my world or any other, and I certainly haven't died."

His smirk returns as he shifts his stance, lifting the machete. "But, I am better than you."

Ah, denial. That's a fun one. Gideon isn't 100% sure she's died either, but being here amounts to the same either way. She's bad enough at dying, she may have lived. This feels like something snagging her in the River, whether the Ancient has a thousand tongues and a taste for beasties or lives over the way at bad metaphor for little minds way. What's one more test?

"What's this place, a mini-vacation? When it doesn't even have swords?" Gideon snarks. She holds the large metal toothpick. She laughs. "I've yet to see that. Is that all you concern yourself with?"

"This was an abduction, not some afterlife." It's less denial and more utter certainty. Death would never have crossed his mind as a possible explanation had he not heard it once or twice from others. But death means a return to the Planet, not... whatever the hell this place is.

"I am trying not to kill you," he says. The machetes make poor stabbing weapons, suited more for hacking. Although his attention settles briefly on her Scrywatch, wondering if this might be an opportunity to test whether losing a hand would rid you of it; but it would be a shame to leave a decent sparring partner without a hand.

"If you believe we're already dead, then what's your excuse?"

Somehow, life is still so important even as the lines between living and dying blur. That's what ten thousand years does in a way, right? Live long enough and something's bound to change. "Thanks, not killing you either," Gideon gives a thumbs up with her off hand. She's not sure who would simply kill each other under these circumstances.

Staying light on her feet, watching him for movement, Gideon shrugs. "My excuse for what? Not killing you? Giving a damn about any of this?" she waves around them. "Shit, man, the dead still have feelings, and I really don't want to farm snow leeks." That sounds like hell as least as much as wherever is below the river. Where resurrection beasts (again, dead souls) go to die. Not that she's volunteering.

He isn't saying he would kill someone in a sparring match out of dislike, but it's always been a risk for him if he overestimates his opponent. He learned young to be careful with anyone who isn't an enemy.

"Snow leeks?" What farming has to do with any of this, he has no idea, but he'll dart in on the offensive again, aiming to disarm without... well, literally disarming her.

Gideon meets him ready for a brawl. A clash of weapons as well as punches and an attempt to grapple him. She's no Camilla with knives. It's Drearburgh training grounds, where no one fought fair, and Gideon's fairly sure Crux was trying to kill her.

Thankfully, she's got experience sassing while fighting of all types. "You're better off in ignorance," Gideon tells him. "Feel blessed you've never had to eat one."

"Ugh."

That's Harrow, all right, coming up out of what seems like nowhere but was actually just following the convenient thalergy radar that Gideon puts out to her Lyctoral senses—it's like very few others, in fact, only like one other, and that gives her a headache—looking a little different. She's finished her experiment with the flowers, and so she's managed to swap the horrible pink dress for a more muted blue-grey-purple-white tie dye monstrosity, and her face is ... well, it's on-theme.

"Aside from the maligning of the snow leeks, which are economically and nutritionally important," the Ninth necromancer, protective of her home, lets out a long sigh, "Are you both quite done being ridiculous?"

Harrow's appearance doesn't startle him, but it does make a few things click in Sephiroth's mind. The farming comment makes more sense with this context, and then--

"This is your cavalier?"

He doesn't immediately seek to disengage (because what they're doing is hardly ridiculous, thank you), but he does shift back into a more defensive mode, keeping one eye on Harrow.

Harrow knows him? He knows Harrow? He's heard of her? Gideon ignores the comments on snow leeks. They are far far away, blessedly, and irrelevant to their island hopping test of an afterlife. She's not sure what she thinks of this swordsman and her necromancer. He isn't trying to creep onto her territory, is he?

"No, not done," Gideon answers Harrow's question. She flips the machete so the blade guards her forearm, and the grip becomes a blunt force weapon. Fighting is easier than dealing with the confusion of relationships.

Harrow sighs again, because that is exactly what Gideon's response is asking for from her (it would be weird if it were something else, right)?

"This is she," she says, and then hesitates on how to introduce her cavalier properly. Harrowhark the First's cavalier, Gideon the First the Second; cavalier primary of the First House on account of being the only one ... going with the original title is easier. "Gideon the Ninth. I think you will not be able to best each other, nor am I sure the machetes deserve the treatment, but I also take responsibility for any offensive thing her fool mouth has said." Gideon does not get a glare, though. Gideon gets a bordering on affectionate eye roll.

"She may have been somewhat less than civil, but there's no need for apologies."

In fact, his smile returns as Gideon continues to attack. Ignoring the displeasure of her superior? Is she that determined to best him? They really will break their weapons again before that happens.

"She is right here," Gideon says. She's under no oath of silence and doesn't see any reason to. "I've been as civil as you have." Which isn't terribly much but didn't matter as they'd been evenly matched on that front. Confidence and cockiness.

Gideon keeps her machete from too much harm. Instead, she thinks of the screams, of what's happened here already. "Are you expecting anything more or worse than the giant bugs?" Gideon asks. Because beating this guy isn't worth failing to save someone else.

Something in the air...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)