polylogs | Something in the air...

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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

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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.

To her credit, Harrow doesn't call Gideon off. She may look disapproving, but she isn't actually ordering her to back down—and she's not sure Gideon would respond, if she did. Technically she's supposed to, but Gideon never read the manual on cavaliering.

Which is also sort of Harrow's fault, so.

She'll own that one.

"Likely due to being in combat, you're going to get some ... barbs or innuendo," is said to Sephiroth, and it looks like Harrow's going to say something else before she catches on what Gideon's said and seriously contemplates it. "Er, maybe different kinds of giant bugs?"

"I see." Maybe some barbed innuendos? There was definitely that.

Sephiroth returns his full attention to Gideon. "I'm sure you could manage a few insects bare-handed should that machete fail you, but... it does get messier." He doesn't know if she'll care about that. She has much less hair to wash.

Gideon glances at Harrow, remembering how messy harbingers had been. "I can," Gideon says, "It only takes time." She still sheaths the machete and faces him with bare fists. "Time someone else might not have." She looks at him, waiting for him to choose. Fight, not fight. Machete, no machete. She's faced worse with less. With Harrow here, she doesn't have to worry.

Harrow considers this, and then ... does not even ask Gideon to stand down.

"My interest in stitching you back together is limited," she says, rather than anything that would put a stop to outright brawling. "I should tell you to limit to the touch or something sensible, but I would hate to ruin anyone's fun."

She absolutely would not, even a little bit, hate to ruin Gideon's fun, and Gideon knows that, but Sephiroth has never deserved such a fate from her.

Sephiroth, however, does stand down once Gideon sheaths her machete. He could take the opportunity to assess her skill at hand-to-hand combat... but it just isn't as much fun.

"There's no need," he says, sheathing his own blade. "I believe we're finished for the moment."

Gideon gives him a shallow little bow. Mild sarcasm because this is the most fun she's had in a while. Everything's better with a sword in her hand (or something a toddler might mistake for a sword). "I want to do this again with actual swords if we can get them," she says.

With a turn toward Harrow, Gideon motions to her perfectly whole body. "No sewing required." She's not sure if somehow Harrow spoiled the session, but Gideon can't break her machete for a piece of fun when it might be needed. "So, you two... friends? You make friends with cavaliers now?"

"I consider Camilla Hect a friend," Harrow proclaims, as if this answers the question entirely; she isn't going to be the one to say whether or not she is friends with someone. That's up to them. It's not something Harrow knows how to gauge well on her own.

But someone who says I owe you everything is probably a friend.

"And if you want to keep brawling, do not let me stand in the way. In fact, I very much wouldn't stand in the way, I would stand off the side so as not to be incidentally injured." Not that she would be; a bone cocoon would snap up and protect her, but it runs the risk of bruising all three of them. "Unless you both want a skeleton skirmish."

She can play too.

"We're acquaintances," Sephiroth states, because he of all people isn't going to define something so recent as friendship. Maybe give it a few years. "And I'm no cavalier. Simply a soldier."

He isn't 'simply' a soldier either, but it's more accurate than what is, to him, an antiquated term whose full implications in the context of their world he doesn't yet understand.

"I would prefer proper swords to a brawl as well. However..." He tilts his head curiously at Harrow. "I wouldn't mind a demonstration of one of your constructs."

He doesn't expect it to present any challenge, but it's an opportunity to learn something.

"Camilla Hect is a badass," Gideon says. "We are lucky to be her friends." She briefly wishes Camilla was there but retracts that. Maybe Palamedes? She would enjoy seeing him again.

"I wanted to join the Cohort for a long time," Gideon says with a shrug. Nothing wrong with being a soldier. Even if he doesn't have his own personal bff magic user, she doubts he's just cannon fodder. He's outlived that, surely.

Her eyes turn back to Harrow. "No holding back. If it's just one, make it epic," Gideon urges. She's excited, even not being the one fighting it. Harrow deserves to show off.

Harrow raises an eyebrow at Gideon's urging for an impressive—okay, epic, in her words—construct, but it's an amused eyebrow raise. She tosses a bone shard out from her pocket, and at the same time, says, "Some would consider a soldier more important than a cavalier, all a matter of opinion and context."

She is not trying too terribly hard, but she is definitely not going with effortless construct. The thing that forms is about ten feet tall, a skull head on top of a round and gigantic body that looks like it is made of two shoulderblades stuck together surrounded by a giant ribcage knit together with enormous vertebrae, and has four long legs—constructed of very enlarged human leg bones, complete with knees, though two fold the normal way and the other two backward—coming out from each side of its body.

It also has four arms, each of which have good solid humerus and then ... forearms that look kind of like swords, in a nod to a certain memorable construct experience she and Gideon shared. Similarly to that other construct, its underside also has about fifty tiny little hands, fingers all grasping at air.

"How," she says, mildly, looking from one fighter to the next, "is that. I'm no Cohort construct adept, but I am descended from a number of them."

"We are of considerably different militaries. I require no assurances as to my import." He doesn't really care if they underestimate him for it, but it would be best if they didn't make such assumptions about the similarity of their worlds.

His gaze lifts as he watches the bone construct come together, an appreciative smile coming to his face. He's fought larger, of course, but it looks like it could be dangerous. And it reminds him more of Scarlet's creations than any of Hojo's cobbled-together monstrosities... Though all the hands seem a bit excessive.

"Interesting." His hand settles back on the hilt of the machete. "But you must instruct it in combat?"

"How very Fourth of you," Gideon mutters. Her eyes are on the construct, running over the bones and returning again and again to the sword arms. Surely Harrow did it both to be kind (in deference to Gideon's preference for swords) and to be cruel (due to Gideon's preference for swords). Sephiroth gets to fight it, lucky bastard. She's light on her feet and hopes without much hope that he needs assistance, and Gideon gets to have her way with it. She is used to fighting constructs, monstrous Lyctor-level ones even.

Gideon assumed the answer is no to Seph's question. Cytherea hadn't had to be near hers, and it had fought like a rabid animal stuck in a room. Harrow's a Lyctor herself now. Use me, Gideon thinks, though Harrow using magic hasn't felt anything like that experiment in the lab.

Harrow could respond I don't need to or perhaps I already am to Gideon; either way would be true, either way she doesn't. Whether it's because she cannot hear her cavalier's clear thought or because she just chooses not to is something she doesn't reveal, either. Even odds on whether she's just being a pain, circumspect, or trying to be even kinder.

"Instruct is a bit overly complex for what is required," Harrow says in a professorial tone; she has returned to lecture mode and if Gideon is taking it as a clue to take a nap, she'll understand. "Direct is more accurate. It has a purpose. Currently its purpose is to fight when cued, to a point where either it is temporarily destroyed or its opponent stops." That seemed safe for a relatively friendly little sparring construct. "It will therefore operate to that purpose, and I do not need to suggest, say, an individual motion, because that would be very difficult; I am no skilled combatant or shaped like it is, and am not thus aware of its body in a way where I would be able to determine the optimal movements."

Admittedly, she could be that last part; she could get inside its thanergy and structure, but it still has no photoreceptors.

"It will not, however, do anything entirely on its own, no—a construct needs at least that initial direction or they will merely exist. Currently it is waiting to be directed further; it knows its purpose, but not in which direction to aim."

"Hmm." Sephiroth, for one, appreciates Harrow's lectures on her powers, because they really are fascinating. To be able not only to create this thing, but to imbue it with some degree of low-level sentience...

It's an entirely novel sort of magic, and he can appreciate its utility without feeling envious. Why would he want something else to do his fighting for him?

He unsheathes the machete again and draws it into a high stance. "Then by all means, direct it to defeat me, if it can." His gaze flicks aside to Gideon and he adds, rather graciously, "Or us, if you like." While he doesn't need the assistance, this is one instance where he can actually understand: it's no fun being left out.

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Something in the air...

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