SPECIAL EVENT: The Flower Oracle

[polymods]

✖ Meet The Oracle

A low thrumming sound builds in the background noise of the raised village, starting so softly that it would be easy to mistake it for the ever present hummingbirds. It keeps building slowly, somehow managing to be both a sound and to bypass the ear as it hums in the bones. The local Temple Guardians bump heads and brush against each other, quietly affirming their bond as they divide their duties: one staying with the local Temple and the other winding through the paths of the village down to the bud of the Flower Oracle in its place of honor in the city center.

The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.

The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.

Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals.

Notes:
Characters who wish to approach the oracle need to respond to the thread titled ‘Meet the Oracle’. After they get their response, they can post a separate reaction thread to play out some of the consequences of the event.

Responses to the Oracle Thread should include: a short description of their IC reaction/actions, a description of what they bring for a sacrifice, and their question for the ancient. Villagers will have let them know that traditional options include: fish, flowers, art, blood, secrets, or memories. Characters/players may come up with their own sacrifices. Please include a note if the character helped decorate the local temple this month.

WARNING: Contacting the Oracle may result in negative IC results for characters, and there is a degree of randomness in how the mods assign results.

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Comments

Meet the Oracle

[polymods]

Welcome Traveler and greet the Flower Oracle - and take your chances reaching out to the Ancient. In order to speak with the Oracle, please post a reply before Midnight PST on July 18 with the following information:

✖ Your character's general reaction to the events

✖ Your character's sacrifice

✖ Your character's question for the Flower Oracle

✖ (Optional) If/how your character chose to decorate the local temple this month

David Alleyne

[helpdesk_hero]

Anticipation. That's what David had been feeling about the idea of an Oracle since the very moment they had been told it was possible. Stories of answers had left him hungry to find more. Peace had found him on the island before, save for the anticipation. Enough peace that he had taken moments throughout the time to gather flowers to make garlands to help decorate the temple. It had given him inner peace that melted away now with the blooming, the anticipation overwhelming him.

Seeing the thing didn't even drive David away from prospect of answers, though. He'd helped conquer death gods, he's investigated the memories and knowledge of a nearly omniscient being, and he'd nearly been eaten by an inter-dimensional parasite. This? This is simpler.

When it was his turn David stepped forward head bowed, and offered his hand out. Blood would be his sacrifice. What could possibly be more fitting for the question he had to ask? He held himself firm and thoughtful, trying not to flinch away from what he might learn.

"Is there a way to get back the memories the last world I was in back? I want the memories of my sister back."

Deadpool

[what_fourth_wall]

Deadpool stares at the spectacle of the flower opening and birthing the Oracle. The noisy thrum it makes does make him grit his teeth - one consequence of regeneration was that while his senses weren't super, they were more sensitive. The ear will deaden to enough sound in self defense, and sometimes permanently so if the sound causes lasting damage. But he didn't get that benefit.

He grit his teeth for another reason too, this one more psychological. It was no secret that Deadpool had been railing against the authority of this place. In every awful way he knew how, he'd pushed at the boundaries. Hell, he'd even made moves to murder someone to see if death was real here (it wasn't - it wasn't real anywhere, he was a comic book character, he knew this). Now he came face to face with one of the authority figures here - someone who was responsible for him being in this place and failing all of these tests. Perhaps he should be scared of the consequences, but he wasn't. He just wanted the Ancient to answer for herself. This was the person behind the curtain, or one of them.

Also she's beautiful. Jaw-droppingly so. For more than one perverse moment, he wanted to change his question to ask if she'd ever slept with any travelers just to see what she said. Most likely, people never asked that. They wanted bigger questions. It would probably throw her off her game, off the show she'd set up here.

But he knew there were better things to ask. Bigger questions that he needed answers to. Deeper truths that he should seek, like how she defined "better" if she wanted him to be a better person. If she even though he could be better. Why he was here if she didn't.

Deadpool walks forward, past the guards. Do they bristle at him more than they do others who have taken this journey more seriously? Or is that just his imagination? Probably just his imagination. He does, after all, have an over-inflated view of his own significance.

He approaches her, and he throws down three severed hands, all his own from various attempts to send video through the Scrywatch. Also from that time he blew himself up.

"We could all use a hand, amirite?" No one had ever accused him of not taking the obvious quip.

Then he stares at her, the important, deep questions on his lips. And he asks, "Have you ever slept with a traveller before?"

[polymods]

Delicate filaments reach from the center of the Flower Oracle, wrapping David's hand in a spider-silk touch as they absorb the offered blood. The sacrifice flows in a blush of pink in the translucent tendrils, and they release him as tenderly as they took. The oracle's eyes darken dreamily, adding definition to the aetherial softness.

"Yes," is the Oracle's answer in a sighing voice like the rustle of leaves. "It will be a journey, but the Ancient sees you and would grant you hope."

The Oracle reaches forward presses a gentle kiss to David's forehead, with lips as soft and cool as rose petals. Perhaps for the first time in a long time, touch will offer absolutely nothing else to David but a single beautiful memory of the sister he loves cannot remember that will become completely his own. His personal gift from the Ancient.

She withdraws, then, and David is given a moment before the guards gently usher him along. After all, he was Seen and Gifted, but there are many more waiting.

[helpdesk_hero]

Thanks. He should thank the Oracle. But he can't. The words are all ripped away in the sob that rips through David's chest as the memory of being there with his Nana when his parents came home, and having a little baby being carefully put into his arms.

It really does take the guards ushering him to get David to walk away, his lips repeating an unvoiced thanks.

David Alleyne | OTA

[helpdesk_hero]

The guards gently ushered David, tears in his eyes, away from the Oracle. He was nearly shaking, his arms wrapped around himself, and once he was far enough away to not be in anyone's way, he collapsed to his knees.

The answer he'd been given had done more than David had expected. A yes or no, he would have accepted that. Instead for his blood and his question he had received a gift he hadn't known how to handle. His heart was aching.

"Kim," he whispered. "Oh god, Kim."

Wrench

[wwrench]

He can't think of a time in his life that he's felt his whole body consumed with such sensation. Disbelieving as he is of the whole idea of ferrymen and planets and opportunities for redemption, Wrench feels compelled to follow the trail of devout. The tension in the air is all-consuming; his body is wracked and rattled down to the very marrow of his bones. Still, Wrench falls in line with the others. He doesn't look very much like the rest of them. By this point in his journey, at least half of what he wears has been dyed an inky black. His shirt still bears the splotches of brilliant oranges and teals, but it's apparent he's made provisions to change what he can. In a world with such brilliant sprays of flora surrounding him, the dark color sticks out better than it blends in.

The line shifts forward, and even after the stillness erupts he can still feel himself quaking from the outside in. His feet feel a little unsteadier on the solid ground, his head a little more filled with possibility. Wrench isn't yet beyond the stage of questioning everything he sees that doesn't line up with his reality, but something about the impossibility of the bursting bloom only makes it more incredible. He stares openly, trying in vain to make sense of it all as the crowd advances.

Not until he's next in line does he realize how fast his heart is beating, and the fact he's woefully unprepared for this. He has nothing on him save what he carries, and no sense that any question he asks could be anything more than a reflection of his (possibly) drugged subconscious. The crowd at his back seems to pulse in hopeful anticipation, so Wrench steps forward.

Is there a point when no amount of atonement can outweigh what's already been done? His palms sift up and down, like a set of narrow scales weighing its load. If justice is real, can't a person be too far gone?

Wrench seems to realize he's asked without offering. After a moment's contemplation, he draws the bowie knife from his waist and passes the sharp blade through the middle of his palm. He barely winces as the line starts to pool with hot, fat drops of blood. The gesture may be dramatic, but giving a pound of flesh is about the most familiar thing he knows.

Sephiroth

[unkindled_madness]

Sephiroth has never been a religious man. To call a thing divine is to mislabel it. The people of these islands have allowed the Ancient, and by extension her guardians and her Oracle, to assume some spiritual role, simply because she is too powerful for them to comprehend. It can't be the reality of what she is, and Sephiroth has never believed in her professed intentions for an instant.

Still, playing this little game is the first opportunity they've had to get anywhere near her. Whether it will enable him to learn anything real or useful about her, he doesn't know. It would be foolish to think he could ask the questions he most wants answered: For what purpose has she actually collected them? By what magic or technology did she bring them here? And, of course, how can they kill her?

But he can't ignore it. He isn't willing to sacrifice anything personal when this place keeps pulling things from him against his will, but... Flowers are a rarity in Midgar, and as abundant as they are here, the people seem to value them as much. He collects a variety of them, putting together an appropriately loud and chaotic bouquet. Some of them he thinks he recognizes from his world. A few he doesn't dislike.

The thrumming is unpleasant, but the blooming of the enormous bud puts him in mind of an ochu--a formidable enough monster, but only a monster. Sephiroth waits patiently, and when his turn comes, he approaches the Oracle with the careful pretense of respect and offers the flowers with both hands.

"...why has the Ancient brought so many here from Earth?"

[speed_of_snark]

Jean-Paul wasn't expecting to see David in such a state. No, he was just heading out to find a nice place to sit and have a floral cocktail.

"David?" he asked, hurrying over to his side - which meant he was there near instantaneously. "David, what's wrong?!"

[helpdesk_hero]

One second alone, the next with Jean-Paul. Good thing he's used to speedsters just throwing themselves into his presence. He isn't shocked by the attention, though. He knows, his state is hardly good.

He looks up at Jean-Paul, tears in his eyes. But they were joyous ones.

"I have a sister."

loki odinson

[dothelokimotion]

[ the first sensation is cloying. like it's overwhelming and loki fights the urge to scratch at his throat before calming himself. there is magic here, powerful magic, reaching into the roots and sky of this place. it makes him feel small and loki has never been particularly fond of that.

as for sacrifice, well, loki takes his knife and cuts a few inches of his hair and leaving it in a bowl. not the most elegant of gestures, but one any god should recognize for its worth. asgardians do not cut hair lightly. ]

Tell me how it ends. For Thor. Does he survive Thanos? Is Asgard safe?

[polymods]

Oh, Deadpool, the Oracle saw you coming, and still, she watches the whole display. Her gentle features maintain an expression of terrible tenderness as Deadpool sorts through his own mixed emotions with room for both his anger and his lust. Whatever his attempted rebellions, the Isles are a place of consequences, but that only works if there is room for actions first. The guards would not dare to stop him. It is their job only to maintain the order of the thing.

Her gaze settles on the grisly pile of hands, and the delicate filaments extend. They twine around the fingers, dragging the offering below the opalescent petals to the sepals, still blood red and full of teeth. The sound of squelching and breaking bones leaves little room for what is happening under the cover of unsullied petals. The Oracle's eyes darken as she reaches out to the Ancient, ready to convey his question, ready, even, to grant him the kindness of ignoring the fact his first question doesn't have to be taken as rhetorical.

And then she hears his final question and an expression washes over her face: pity, a deep and abiding sorrow. The Flower Oracle sees him and knows he does not understand. She is divine power channeled through absurdly complicated plant genitalia on an island that embodies the raging fight to reproduce and survive without ever reaching culmination. He can't scandalize her, just as she can't force the Ancient's hand.

The Ancient leaves his question unanswered, except to transport him back to his bed in the temple away from the proceedings.

Thor Odinson

[assemble_the_lovbacken]

[Thor has never been one to easily shy away from magic; he'd grown up around it, been raised by it. But even he, a deity in his own right, can feel that the magic flowing in the Oracle is all together different.

He does not have much, certainly not in the way of the riches he once did. He removes one of his leather wristbands, offering it as a sacrifice. He had also done his best to decorate the local temple using flora and fauna that he found locally, carefully cutting leaves to represent some of his favorite animals as well as a few choice lightning bolts and hoped that such a display would please the Oracle.]

Loki said that we saved our people and settled on Earth. He has no reason to lie to me, but I gather that he is also not forthcoming with his information. What is it that he'd hiding from me?

[speed_of_snark]

David is used to it more than most.

Jean-Paul, who was really only passingly familiar with David's family - nodded cautiously. "Ouais," he agreed. "You do. Younger, right? I take it this is a revelation of some kind."

[helpdesk_hero]

Oh Jean-Paul, how could he forget that he told Jean-Paul this. But he didn't expect that Jean-Paul should know this. Unless... had Laurie or Josh mentioned her knowing Jean-Paul? That didn't make sense.

"I lost all of my memories of her. Josh and Laurie had to tell me I had a sibling. I... The Oracle said I can get the memories back. And she gave me one. I remember holding her, just back from the hospital."

This is important, Jean-Paul. It's so important.

"I have a sister," he says, voice soft and full of awe.

[speed_of_snark]

Jean-Paul has a tendency to forget things that don't immediately affect him. It's one of the (many) reasons he may have been selected to go on a Self Improvement Cruise in the first place.

Understanding finally dawns in his eyes. "Oh my god," he says. "Oh, David. You did see the Oracle? And she-- Oh, David."

This is a feeling he knows almost exactly, having had his memories of his own sister erased from his mind. Its this commonality that moves him to pull David in for an quick embrace.

"You do," he says softly. "I am so glad for you."

[helpdesk_hero]

David doesn't have any shame in this moment. His arms wrap right back around Kyle and he holds Jean-Paul to him, close and tight. Joy gives him strength, more than he would have expected.

"I can get them back," he told Jean-Paul. "I can have her back. I just... i have to figure out how."

A quest has been acquired.

Quentin Quire

[quire]

Even seeing her before him after hearing so much about it Quentin remains highly skeptical of this so called Oracle. So far it's a plant. But so is Krakoa who, while not a God exactly, he does consider a friend.

Perpetually unimpressed looking, he is at least willing to hear what this oracle has to say— the way an interested non-believe approaches a palm reader. Also because if it is incredible he'd never overcome the fomo if he passed this up.

He's not taken part in decorating the temple this month and lacking in tangible sacrifices— why would a flower want more flowers? Or a fish? None of the villagers suggestions resonated with him enough to show up bearing gifts and being the cerebral sort that he is he's more interested in knowing what it wants with their memories and secrets.

"I've got a secret for you... Only two beings in the universe know it. Me and a cosmic entity— maybe you've heard of the Phoenix Force? I told it a secret once too. And it liked it so much it gave me a fragment of it's infinite power. So uh... do I just say it and then I get a question?" shaking off the discomfort of being watched he leans in close and whispers to her the same thing he told the Phoenix.

"Kay, here's my question. What's in it for you or whoever's running this joint? THIS, I mean. Natch," he gestures widely to everything around them. "This whole little experiment."

[speed_of_snark]

"If anyone can figure out the how, it's you," Jean-Paul says honestly. After all, David has figured out so much in his short life. He's one of the smartest people alive. And one of the most tenacious - some might say stubborn.

Jean-Paul could relate to the latter.

"You do know if you need my help, I'll give it, non?"

[helpdesk_hero]

David hardly thought he deserved to be counted among the most stubborn. No, he didn't get that level of ranking with Jean-Paul. But he did look up at the other at the offer for help.

"I..."

He went silent. Whatever he was going to say clearly gone because David knew what Jean-Paul would do to help him. Already knew.

"Yeah, I know. I just don't even know where to start. I didn't... I didn't know how much the very idea of hope would hurt."

He had given so much to the Fates that day. The first moment of his team he could live without. The skating he could give up even if it was one of his oldest and dearest fashions. But family? He couldn't just grab that back to him. So he needed a plan.

[speed_of_snark]

Jean-Paul could say a lot about hope, and how terrible it could be. He's had forty years, after all, in which to have hopes built up only to be broken again and again. But what good would the telling do? Some things were not ever properly shared.

"What did she say, exactly? Maybe there was a clue." He smiles a little. "We are detectives, after all."

[helpdesk_hero]

Yes, hope can absolutely be terrible. But David? He needed this hope. More than he knew how to say. To have the chance to be whole, to know the hole in his mind was full would mean everything. To be able to know her voice, her smile, the warmth of her hug.

And whatever the Fates had done, it hadn't stopped. It had extended forward. It had taken anything he may have gained back home. And this was cutting him badly.

"Yeah, because we don't get in trouble with our investigations. She said that it will be a journey, but that the Ancient saw me and would grant me hope. Then she kissed my brow and the memory was there."

[polymods]

Wrench is walking a difficult path as a new arrival and a nonbeliever. He is welcome. The Ancient has never required the belief of those she chooses. However, she is not always forgiving of their missteps. There are costs to making even an innocent mistake in a ritual. The sacrifice must come before the question for the bargain to be properly struck. Wrench will face the consequences.

The tenderhearted Oracle can only temper the punishment as her eyes darken with the Ancient's presence before a sacrifice has been accepted. When her tendrils reach out to collect the blood, they are delicate in their touch, taking only blood and demand no meat. As the tendrils withdraw, a fine powder coats the wound, leaving first numbness that blossoms into fiery pain. If Wrench is able to flush the wound with water and bind it, it will heal after a day of considerable pain. If he does not, he will find the hand frozen and unable to move for a month. Either way, there will be a scar as a reminder.

This should be the only result, but there is wiggle room left by his mistake. Wrench did ask an essential question about the nature of the Isles, and this in itself pleases the Ancient. The Oracle's eyes are still dark as she signs. If Wrench can focus despite the pain, he will see her answer: Our justice is not the balancing of a scale. Our justice does not demand the undoing of what cannot be undone. Our justice repairs and reconciles. Our justice demands growth and responsibility. Some will fail. Some will not.

The darkness fades from the Oracle's eyes, and Wrench is ushered off to deal with his hand.

James 'Logan' Howlett

[howlett]

When in Rome. Logan's never been much of a religious man. The promise of redemption has run hollow too many times in his life to go chasing that particular goose again. What he is though (in some part thanks to the ambient tranquility of this place) is willing to listen. Anything he's ever found that came close to a real answer has come from practicing that much at least. He's interested for experience sake, and more than willing to be patient if it means hearing whatever this Oracle has to say.

Having spent a great deal of this month adorning the temple with intricate wagara patterns he hasn't realized it if he's inadvertently stumbled into appeasing whatever force governs this place.

Never the type to overvalue either material things or what he knows, his sacrifice is practical, readily accessible and about the most valuable thing he's ever had to offer anyone — his blood of course. The sacrament of his own biological mixed blessing.

"Just one eh?" He rubs the back of his neck trying to think practically about this. What would it serve anyone here to ask something about himself? He looks at the coloured light of his Scrywatch a moment and wonders if maybe questions about himself aren't all so removed from understanding this place.

"Do gods like you approve of good things because they're good, or are good things good because the gods approve?" he asks, but the more he thinks about his question the more he already feels like he's wasted it. "Maybe I'm just looking for grace for those of us who tend to do wrong so other folks won't have to."

[polymods]

The Oracle watches Sephiroth's arrival with indulgent patience. She exists only for this blooming and this purpose; what is life without challenges and exploring different viewpoints? She hopes he enjoyed gathering the flowers. They are beautiful. When she accepts them and her tendrils weave the flowers he has gathered into the billowing form of her skirts so the Oracle takes on bright colors.

Once the sacrifice is accepted, the pale eyes of the Oracle darken with channeled divinity. "Because She likes their stories," comes the answer, soft and rustling. The answer is simple and incomplete. Such is the risk of speaking with an Oracle, especially with murky intent. Her eyes pale again as Sephiroth is ushered on.