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.

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Kyle goes bright red and feels for one horrible second like he's going to start crying. He won't - Kyle Broflovski doesn't cry, goddammit - but that casually cruel comment cuts deep, and is made worse by the fact that somebody knows.

"I don't have a sex addiction," he mumbles. "That wasn't true, I was a kid, and I'm not like that." Faintly, like ghosts in another room, there's the sound of someone getting fucked and breathlessly insulted. Kyle actually pulls at the intangible cap he's wearing as if to yank down over his ears.

"...it's the library at Boston University, where I did my undergrad. I used to study there a lot. First year it seemed really huge, and impressive, and peaceful. I used to get ripped on for liking school, and nobody there was about to do that. It felt adult." His tone is defensive but, again, tired.

"I know it's stupid."

Connected like they are just now there's nothing Kyle can hear that Quentin can't. His attention snaps from left to right trying to place the direction of those sounds and see if there's a vision attached to them as well— but then Kyle tries to bury those thoughts with such might that Quentin shuts that door too. Just like he did with the angry fat boy. Only seems fair.

"Don't listen to them," Quentin rolls his eyes and with an audible slap sound there's a swatch of pink tape plastering all their mouths shut. "There's something to be said for getting to do whatever the hell you want without a lot of commentary from the fucking peanut gallery."

"What did you study?" he asks, because he's curious and because the longer he can keep Kyle focused on the things that don't make him uncomfortable to share the more likely they can bring this whole hallucinogenic tide pool back under some comfortable control sans-telekinetic shower cap.

"I'm not," he says. It's a sad little lie, made all the more pointless by the fact that Quentin is a living lie detector. But he has to say it, has to claim not to care what these half-sentient constructs say, because he already feels small and stupid.

Quentin's understanding is unexpected and appreciated. Kyle remembers the few drinks they'd shared on Carcosa and that the guy hadn't seemed all bad, really. An asshole, sure, but not a monster. And he had an annoyingly cute smile.

"Yeah, exactly," Kyle says, relaxing a little again. "Like, it's dumb and boring but it was the first time I'd ever been away from home, and it was cool to me. I felt like I could be myself. Or someone new, maybe." He looks at Quentin and grins. "Poli-Sci major. You know, the FAKE science. But I'm going into law this fall, so it's a good base to start with." He laughs shortly. "Well. Supposed to be. I know you're some sort of of superhero or whatever, but did you never wanna go to school?"

Trying to relax while connected to the mind of someone who is decidedly not relaxed is no easy feat. Making people comfortable isn't exactly his greatest skill set, but for a little peace and quiet he's more than willing to trying.

"Most people's happy places are kind of boring. Except like adrenaline junkies... but even then a lot of them are in it for the drop after the rush," he shrugs, remembering no one cares about what he knows about brain stuff.

With the quiet of the baths settling around them again Quentin sighs and sits back. "Not a fake science. That's just what nerds say about everything with ethically dubious tools for measurement."

He shrugs at the question. "Not really," maybe he did once, but as he sees it now it was for all the wrong reasons. "My IQ is through the roof and institutional education is kind of a joke. I was a huge nerd when I was a kid." He says that like he isn't now.

"Right. If you're into risky behaviour, doesn't your central nervous system essentially reward you for it?" Maybe nobody Quentin knows cares, but Kyle does. It's fascinating, and the way he leans forward just a little shows his interest.

"Only when you were a kid, huh?" Kyle asks. "Pity, I was gonna ask you to join my Endless Isles D&D group." He sinks enough to get the edges of his hair wet. "You're not wrong about education, though. As much as I want to defend the concept, I've seen way, way too much fuckery in the school system. And university is mostly just a fabulous way to get into debt. I worked my ass off for scholarships 'cause god knows I don't need to dig myself any deeper financially."

He splashes idly at the water. "...I've seen you as like, older and stabbed twice now. It must be like, really on your mind, huh?"

"Pretty much. There are only so many neuro-chemicals that cause pleasure and a buncha different ways to milk them." It doesn't take much to convince Quentin Quire to talk about stuff. The nerdier the better.

He looks at Kyle over the top edge of his glasses. "I could be into D&D. Who's DMing?"

"Exaaaaactly!" he groans dramatically. "Such a scam. Like someone went— how can we get poor people to pay an entrance fee for their own social mobility? The only real education anyone needs is critical thinking skills. Everything else is just absorbing information. Besides they don't teach anything I'd want to learn in college."

If he ever does clam up about anything it might be that though. "Pftf. Not as much as this place would like you to think," he mutters.

"Right. You know how to stimulate all that?"

Kyle has always thought that people who peer over the rim of their glasses are trying to look intelligent and sexy. It's fake as hell. So why does it suit Quentin?

"I guess it would be me, unless my friend Elenore wanted to. She's a mad scientist, pretty sure, so I just assume she'd wanna play. Another genius, like you."

Kyle sits up a bit and nods. "God, I wish they'd teach critical thinking. You have no idea - NO idea - how much shit I've seen that could have been avoided by people just using their fucking brains."

He worries his lower lip a little bit. "Yeah. Yeah, this place likes to pick at you. It's bullshit."

Edited 2021-07-14 02:14 (UTC)

"Course. What kind of telepath would I be if I couldn't even fuck your brain chemistry?" Smug as ever.

Quentin's confidence, and with it so many of his habits, are a strange convolution of nature and nurture. A personality he wanted to embody. So he did. It's hard to tell where what comes naturally to him ends and where the puts on begin, but some of those little affections just suit him to a tee.

"That's a small party. But I'd be down. We might wanna get another. I know a guy who might be into it. He's a pretty big fucking nerd too."

"Tell me about it." It's hard to say whether he's referring to a lack of critical thought in then education system or the patterns of these islands and the way it prods at its inhabitants, but either one would apply. "What color did it give you anyway?" he asks, craning to see Kyle's watch under the water.

"Well, I dunno, we don't have telepaths where I'm from," Kyle replies a trifle defensively. He's half positive he hates this guy, which naturally means he's becoming obsessed with him. Not that he'd admit it.

"Well, I was thinking there's two other guys who'd maybe wanna play. One's another fucking genius, and I think I could force my buddy Carter to join us so I won't be the ONLY guy who isn't in fucking MENSA."

Kyle holds his wrist up, showing off the yellow colour. "Apparently it's mediocre."

"Sounds boring." He'll eat those words someday.

"Don't be touchy. It doesn't take an IQ to roll dice. I'm up for this though. There's something almost meta about role playing some fantasy world full of monsters and whatever while we're all stuck in some fantasy world full of monsters or whatever."

"Sounds accurate," he smirks, but actually he's a little surprised to see this guy, this sensitive, lanky, red-head assigned the same colour as Wolverine. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What did you do to deserve yellow?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"I'm not being touchy!" Yes he is. "But yeah, right? It's kind of hilarious."

"Fuck off." He says it without rancor. Then he shrugs and puts his hand back under the water. "I dunno. Nothing. I'm just a friggin student. I've never done anything." This is a lie of staggering proportions.

He gives Kyle a look that insists he won't taken for an idiot.

"Obviously they think you've done something terrible to be painted with the same brush as the mutant grizzly man. That mutt's killed more people than heart disease."

He slides a little closer looking all the more interested in Kyle now. "What did you DO?" he smiles.

Kyle glares back at Quentin. He's scrawny and more than a little neurotic, but he's never been one to back down from anyone besides his mother.

"I have not," he insists. When Quentin moves closer his eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. His cheeks go pink. "Nothing! I told you, I'm just... me!" The air shivers and echoes with distant happy laughter and the sound of his own name.

"What did YOU do?"

"Just YOU. And what are you exactly? A future warlord? A guy with a bunch bodies in his freezer? A new generation's Mark Zuckerberg?"

The sound draws Quentin's attention immediately. So much so that his answer to Kyle's question comes off as dismissive.

"Killed my parents. Started a mutant supremacy group and a riot. Held the UN hostage. Made billions on being the herald of future-cult -- it's kind of Scientology adjacent. Whatever. What is that? Who's calling you?"

Edited 2021-07-27 03:21 (UTC)

"No! I'm gonna be a lawyer, but not the sleazy kind."

Quentin's admissions are so frank that Kyle stares, shocked. Which is probably why he admits, "I think it's my best friend's girlfriend, Wendy. Did you say Scientology adjacent? Dude. That shit's fucked up."

"So an unsuccessful lawyer? Weird flex but ok."

"Yeah, tell me about. Any enterprise has to be morally bankrupt to make that kind of money and wield that kind of control over people. That's why I used their business model. Duh."

But again, he's not nearly as interested in his own misdeeds as whatever's haunting Kyle. "Kyyyyle. What did you do to Wendy??"

"No, the kind who helps people."

"...right. Okay, that's horrible but it makes sense."

Kyle shakes his head. "Nothing," he says honestly. "You fixed my brain so only nice stuff would show up. She's nice, that's all."

"So a broke lawyer? I stand by what I said."

"Yeah..." his suspicious glances don't spare Kyle for a moment. "But good things and bad things can be intertwined. As we saw with the bitchy blondes who were hanging on my every word before you showed up."

The water sloshes when he sits back in the bath again. "So if it's not Wendy-related tragedy you're responsible for what earned you the yellow badge of badness? You should tell me. I told you all those things and didn't even just crack your brain open like pistachio to dig it out of there myself. How's that for being nice?"

"Money isn't everything."

Quentin has him there, so Kyle nods. When he moves back Kyle goes a little less pink. "Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess." He looks down at the water.

"I guess because I got a lot of people hurt once. That's probably why."

"No, power is. Money just buys power in lieu of any real control."

"Welcome." Among his many annoying little habits, is snapping off that unfaltering little reassurance like you're welcome and immediately carrying on before anyone can tell him how undeserved it is.

But this is getting juicy so he leans in. "How? How many? Just once? I'm not sure I feel like a one off is deserving of yellow. Well. Maybe if you really got off on it or something. Anyway, what did you do?"

"I guess that depends on how you define power."

Kyle manages to keep his face mostly neutral, but the guilt radiating off of him is nearly palpable to a telepath.

"I did not get off on it. And that time it was a lot of people." He sighs and looks Quentin in the eye. "I got Canada bombed, okay? People died and it was my fault."

"How do you define power then?" The angle of his eyebrow makes him look like a skeptic already.

It's clear Quentin was waiting for something more disturbing. More intimately grizzly. More deserving of a hard R. But at least the guy has some inkling of decency. As evidenced by the way the way he tamps down his laugh to just a touch of a scoff. And then tries to sweep that under the rug too.

"Yeah ok. Bombing places is bad and you probably shouldn't do it. But like. At least Canada's mostly empty?" That's consolation, right? "It doesn't sound like you did it on purpose though so. It's probably not the worst thing to have done."

"I think... okay, I think there's power as in agency, and power as in power-over. The former I think is what everyone deserves, you should be free to make decisions and live freely. The other kind is like... where you get this idea that it's a zero sum game and you put others down to elevate yourself. So you get patriarchy and capitalism and racism and all that shit. I'm not really about that.

The fact that Quentin seems a little less down is, for whatever reason, annoying and embarrassing. Kyle's cheeks go pick again.

"Toronto isn't empty. Or Calgary or Vancouver or... fucking Hamilton, I don't know. And intent doesn't matter for shit when people are dead." He hunches in on himself.

"If you're trying to make me feel better, thanks. If you're just being super unimpressed I don't know what to do about that, you want some other story about how I killed someone?"

"I don't see any difference. If agency is just the power to act or intervene to some desired effect. Then too much agency is just the power to make decisions over others. Power's power," he says flippantly. "You don't HAVE to snuff out other people to earn it. But you can. And typically it's a pretty solid strategy."

Incorrect as he may be, Quentin makes the assumption that Kyle's just being glib and doesn't have another story about killing someone.

"Can't both be true?" he shrugs a little. "What do you want! I was expecting like a story about a dismembered family. Or. Something with some teeth. Yes, ok, bombing places is pretty terrible. And frankly, I don't know how you ended up in that situation when you're not exactly Seal Team 6 over here. But also like, it sounds kind of accidental and you already SEEM to regret it so it's not like you're Genghis Khan! I dunno. I just meant, on a scale of one to warlord, you don't exactly seem deserving of a yellow. It was practically a compliment."

"I'm not surprised you don't. It's nuanced." Hours chin says defiantly. "An effective strategy doesn't make it right to do."

"I don't want anything, I just wanted to fucking relax!" Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tight.

"Okay. Okay. Thank you for the compliment. And I don't like thinking about things with 'teeth' okay? It's all in the past and none of it matters so why think about it?"

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