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Bang Up To The Elephant

✖ VICTORIA'S SECRET

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The fog that has blanketed the city for a month finally lifts a little - there are days with actual sunshine now! Not many, and the sky is still frequently thick with smog, but every so often light pours through the holes in the clouds. The river that flows from the sea into the city still smells foul, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it.

Walk the cobbled streets and you will find that the city is crowded and filthy, but full of merchants, pubs, and theatres. Vast wealth and extreme poverty exist side by side.

In the center of the sprawling city is a temple with towering gothic spires and huge stained glass windows depicting all manner of beings that might be gods or angels or monsters. You could look for hours and still be finding new figures plucked straight from books of myth and religion. Inside, the main chamber has a grand vaulted ceiling, and dozens of pews line the aisle up to the altar, which is oddly anticlimactic compared to the lavish surroundings: just a plain stone table with a lit oil lamp in the centre. Two hallways branch off on either side of the room: one leads to private baths and a communal kitchen, the other to monastic style chambers with thin beds. Not the most comfortable place to stay, but it’ll do in a pinch!

The High Temple has also reappeared at the edge of the city, with its considerably more comfortable lodgings.

Alternatively you can venture into the city and find yourself some other lodging - every Traveler has been supplied with some pocket money. Just be careful that it isn’t stolen by some street urchin. Travelers can also find an era-appropriate outfit that will fit them perfectly laid in the first sleeping chamber they visit.

Notes:
1. The High Temple and anything you may have stored there is available to all characters this month.

2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

3. The city greatly resembles Victorian London, and the technology and general way of life is all of that era. Feel free to explore the city! These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.

4. Most food is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities. Most. Some of it’s going to be pretty gross or cooked improperly, so be careful.

5. The people in the city are normal humans unless otherwise indicated. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.

6. Have fun!

Ⅱ. COME UNDONE
CW: dead bodies, archeological graverobbing.
Somehow, some way, you find yourself with an invitation card:

Lord Trewlaney at Home: the Unwrapping of
THE JEWEL OF THE SEVEN STARS!
Half-past Eight
Unwrapping? How saucy! Or perhaps you have an inkling of exactly what that means.

The invitation gets you entry to a well kept home on the more well-to-do side of the city. There are plenty of servants circulating with food and drink of which you are welcome to partake. Society’s elite chatter and mingle all around you; maybe you fit in, and maybe you don’t.

Regardless, you don’t have to wait very long for the main event. The host of this little soiree - presumably Lord Trewlaney himself, a little man with a weak chin and an impressive mustache - stands at the front of the room and holds his hands aloft.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he says in a clear voice. “BEHOLD! We shall now commence with the unwrapping of this, a fine example of Egyptian mummification, who was once called the Jewel of the Seven Stars!”

A wheeled table is brought forward, covered in a purple velvet cloth. Dramatically, Lord Trewlaney flings it back to reveal a body wrapped in ancient linen bandages. The crowd sighs, and Trewlaney’s eyes scan the crowd.

“Ah, you there!” he cries, pointing at you. Or maybe the person beside you.

“You folk there! Here, come up, my friends! You may have the honour of being a part of history!”

The crowd pushes you and your companion forward with excited murmurs. Soon enough the two of you are beside the mummy, and Trewlaney is handing you a pair of scissors. Up close the body smells of cinnamon and something else, something familiar.

“Reveal its face!” he urges you. And so, you cut.

Much to your surprise what is revealed is not a desiccated corpse, but your own likeness. Before you have time to react the mummy sits up and turns to face the audience, who oohs and ahhs.

The mummy’s lips part and it speaks. What does it say? Something extremely revealing; in plain terms, the mummy reveals something an aspect of yourself that you would rather have kept hidden.

Oh dear! You can shut yourself up, of course, but before you do maybe you ought to consider that interfering with a mummy was considered a surefire way to fall under a curse…

Notes:
1. What is revealed can of course be of any degree of seriousness. Murder? Or do you just secretly enjoy RomComs?

2. Shut the mummy up before it has its say and you will suffer the Mummy’s Curse: bad luck that will plague you for the rest of the month!

Ⅲ. IMAGINARIUM
The sign above the door simply reads Cabinet of Curiosities. How intriguing! And at the very least you can get out of the chill.

Inside there are dozens of wooden cases with glass fronts, each filled with shelves of all manner of objects. Some look expensive and exotic, while others are almost painfully mundane. There are taxidermied animals, wet specimens, fossils, glass eyes, rocks and crystals, pottery, statuettes… There’s a little of everything.

As you peer amongst the stuffed ducks and fossilized plants, you’ll spot something familiar. It’s an object that you recognise as personally significant whether because it’s from your life back home, or because it’s symbolic. It represents a dream or a hope you have for the future.

If you take the object out of the cabinet for a closer look, you and whoever happens to be standing nearby will instantly be transported to a hazy vision of what that lovely dream is. It won’t last forever - indeed, maybe only a moment. Depending on what that hoped for future is, you might have some explaining to do.

Notes:
1. All futures are something hoped for. They may be completely unrealistic and bittersweet, but they are something wanted and not feared.

Ⅳ. GARDENS
CW: mind altering substances.
If there’s one spot within the city where you might be able to find some refuge from the dank scent of ocean rot and the sour smell of body odour, then it’s going to be the Gardens. A jewel toward the west side of the city, you will find a greenhouse containing all manner of tropical plants, and a rose garden with over a 100 different types available for you to enjoy.

But why stop there? There are also areas where you can stop and have tea with a friend. They even have those little sandwiches with the crust cut off! They have cucumber, egg, and cream cheese. Each of these has a different effect: cucumber sandwiches will provide a mild sense of euphoria, while the egg will give you a lot of energy (and maybe some gas). Cream cheese will make you very relaxed and prone to oversharing. There are also perfectly regular cakes and biscuits available, as well.

Maybe you’re feeling a bit more somber. In the northeast end of the park there is a secret pet cemetery with over 300 tiny tombstones paying tribute to the tragic losses of many much-loved pets. The area is disused, overgrown with ivy and ferns. Sitting there evokes a sense of peace.

Prefer to see some living wildlife? Fear not, the park seems to attract several different types of songbirds which makes it a hotspot for birdwatching. There are binoculars available to use for that purpose. Or you could use them to peer into the city’s seamy underbelly. Just don’t get isolated and weird about it.

Sometimes I can still hear his voice...

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"Did you just call me an otter?!" is Kyle's intelligent contribution to this discourse.

He shrugs back, cheeks flushing a little. "I like kids," he says, not quite defensively. "I kinda always figured some day, maybe... I dunno."

As Quentin moves a little closer to the family in front of them, Kyle hesitates. He's not sure he wants to interfere in what might be a future, but more than that he suspects that this may not be one after all.

It's the pink mixer and toaster. And the fact that the kitchen and living room are both just a little more slick looking than he himself would pick.

Sudden understanding dawns at the same moment he hears a car with an obnoxiously loud engine rip its way into the driveway and the presumably attached garage.

"Quentin, we should go upstairs RIGHT NOW," Kyle says as his older self rolls his eyes.

"Daddy's home!" the little girl shrieks as she runs toward the front door. Kyle tugs on Quentin's arm in a desperate bid to haul him up the stairs or into the pantry or to anywhere that isn't here, to no avail.

The front door opens and Quentin Quire walks through.

Kyle wants to die.

Edited 2022-02-08 05:18 (UTC)

"Well, you're not a bear" he counters. Like that's the argument they're having here.

"I mean it. You'd be the best dad. You'll be one of those dads who kids' legitimately aren't afraid to talk to you about anything to the point it weirds out all their friends with emotionally constipated fathers." His smile is still just a tinge sad. Which might not be so noticeable on anyone who's default state of contentment isn't merely several shades of mischievous. But he does seem sincerely understanding. Oblivious to those telltale little details, but understanding.

When that peaceful heartache is so rudely interrupted, Quentin's brow furrows at the sound. "Seriously? What kind of a total d-bag rolls up in suburbia with a V10? Oh my God, Kyle! That better be the neighbour!"

When the little girl confirms the worst, Quentin turns his mortified look on His Kyle. He digs in his heels to fight off Kyle's desperate attempt at keeping him from seeing what terrible choice the future holds for an otherwise well-aged version of his boyfriend. "What!? No! Kyle! I need this! If I'm not gonna be there to see it you have to at least—"

And Quentin Quire's brain malfunctions for a good long moment.

Any trace of that loneliness this sight initially inspired dissolves into dumbstruck disbelief.

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe. You get that beard. And I'm not even any taller."

"Well, NO, but..." But what he's not certain.

Kyle recognizes that sadness, but isn't aware of the source. He suspects functional living families in general probably make Quentin a little envious, but it's not until Quentin says he's not going to be there that Kyle wonders if part of his sadness has anther source.

Which he'll have to address later, because right now he's staring as an older (but still attractive, in his opinion) Quentin scoops up their daughter with telekinesis and tosses her about with a smirk.

"Guess THAT kind of total d-bag," Kyle says faintly. Their older selves exchange quick kisses.

"Of course you can't get taller. But look at you, you look amazing!"

Kyle's not wrong to think that even if Quentin had thought this future held any place for him, the little punk would have been left no less speechless.

"My hair is the same," he smiles a little. Not only has he seen enough bad haircuts in his own future but he tires of people telling him he'll grow out of it. You don't grow out of a signature look. "Ugh, you know if I shave it all off I'll just end up looking like Xavier when I'm old. Every old, bald white guy looks the same."

Despite his predictably superficial commentary, the sight of his older self with their kids, with each other, with this serene little home that now suddenly makes a lot more sense aesthetically— it all aims to steal his breath away.

"What... which... what universe is this?" he asks, his eyes glassy and his hand on Kyle's arm holding fast for a different reason than before. "How do we make sure we end up here??"

Edited 2022-02-08 06:57 (UTC)

Kyle relaxes a little, smiling. "Of course it is," he says. "It's iconic."

Their older selves herd the kids to the dining room table, then set about serving the dinner Kyle has clearly made.

"I don't know," Kyle admits. "There's nothing outside but fog, and I think..." He looks at the menorah he's still holding.

"I think it's from my head. My fantasies. That's why there's no outside - I never know WHERE to wind up."

Edited 2022-02-08 07:09 (UTC)

Kyle's words make him chuckle and once he's smiling it feels impossible to stop. He drags Kyle after them when they settle in the dining room, unwilling to take his eyes off this scene for a moment. As normal as it might appear, it's all too much like nothing he's ever seen.

"What are their names? Do you think they're mutants? Did we have a surrogate? Does she have your eyes or what?!" You can almost hear his thoughts pinging around excitedly.

"Your fantasies?" he blinks his thoughts back into some kind of order. As best he can anyway. "You pictured this? This is from your head?"

All it takes is the colour of Kyle's cheeks to confirm what he already knows and Quentin hauls him closer by both hands until he's kissing Kyle breathlessly. Dizzy and dumbfounded and delighted to tears.

"I didn't think I'd fit."

Kyle is more dumbfounded by Quentin's reaction than he is the loving family in front of them. He wouldn't have expected him to be so genuinely interested - he sort of assumed that Quentin would find suburban domesticity boring as hell.

"I dunno, they both have my hair I guess," he says, although the more he looks the less sure of that he is.

He nearly drops the menorah when Quentin kisses him. He kisses back and lifts his free hand to cup Quentin's cheek.

"What?" He asks. "In my future? Of course you fit. How could you not? Honestly I didn't think you'd want anything like this."

"They would. It's... sort of in my DNA too. Or it was. Before I went pink I was pretty auburn. I might have grown up to be one of those guys with brownish hair who's beard comes out red. Those kids wouldn't stand a chance," he smiles.

Kyle's not wrong to think he never pictured this. But that's more about avoidance than what he might find himself wanting.

"Lots of reasons..." he mutters, sheepsihly. "I've seen the future from a few different angles, you know? My future. In in most of them, I'm dead long before this. But even if things like life and death work a little differently for my people these days... it's like; What the fuck do I know about family?"

At the table, Elder Quentin leans over to their daughter and feigns a whisper. Sparking a conversation that captures Quentin's full attention."Did Dad make all this?" he asks their daughter. "For real real?"

"Uh huh," she giggles.

"For REAL though?" he presses.

"Uh huh!"

"Like ALL of it? He ordered out for some of this, didn't he? You can tell me."

"ALL of it! It's my FAVOURITE! He's the best!" She clarifies.

"He's a pest? Wow. Rude."

"NO, I SAID BEST. DAD IS THE BEST."

"Ohhhhh," he smiles at Kyle. Proud of his little Abbott and Costello routine, even if it makes their eldest child roll his eyes.

As an onlooker to this little scene, Quentin both chuckles and blushes at the absurdity of his own jokes.

"Really?" He's tickled more than he thought he'd be by the idea of a ginger Quentin.

"You're a fast learner, Q," Kyle says. "You'd learn lots about family."

Kyle pauses, eyes glued to this little scene. He starts laughing softly.

"See?"

"Right on the line between brunette and redhead," he nods.

Despite his bashful expression he narrows his eyes at Kyle's unrepentant faith in him. "Oh, sure your fantasy of future-me is great at parenting! Those should be easy shoes to fill!" he gripes, only to fold his arms comfortably around Kyle's waist and lay his head on the taller man's shoulder. It's both nerve wracking and comforting at once to feel like who Kyle thinks he could be is someone he'd want a future with.

"I'll never forgive you if they both end up taller than me."

"My fantasies are based on real world data," he says loftier.

"They might not," Kyle chuckles. He puts his free hand over Quentin's. "My mom is really short."

He sighs. "Should we stay here? In my daydream?"

"Nerd," he snorts.

"If you wanna. We could look around. It's pretty fucking cute," he admits. "I didn't know you thought about this stuff. I didn't know you thought about this stuff with me. I was... I was like actively trying not to think too much about too far into the future."

Kyle shrugs, pink. "I. Yeah. I do. I'm super domestic I guess."

He kisses the side of Quentin's head. "Because we're on a magic island quest?"

He untangles Kyle from his arms, however reluctantly, and not before reaching up to take Kyle's face between his hands and lean up on his tiptoes to kiss him. "You're cute as fuck."

"Yeah. Partly." With his hand in Kyle's, he surveys this little home again. A little excited and a little nervous to find out what else is stashed away here in Kyle's wishes. "Show me around?"

Kyle kisses back through a smile.

"Okay," he agrees. "I don't know what we'll find, mostly I just think about the whole... family thing." Still, he pulls away, heading for the stairs that lead to the second floor.

"This place looks a little like my family home," he says. "But modern."

"Tell me more about that then," Quentin prods him. "What else do you think about the family thing? You think about kids. Obviously. Have you like... picked names and everything? I'm told some people do that."

He scans the place with fresh eyes. The things that seem a little too slick stand out to him now as things Kyle must imagine are reflections of Quentin. "I sort of remember that I think. I mean, I've seen glimpses. A little house shows up in your head a lot. With like... green? Green paint. Or trim? Or something. Not that I've been snooping."

"No, no names. I feel that's a joint decision."

He nods as he peers around on the second floor. "Green, yeah." He opens a door he thinks must be to the bedroom ad immediately goes red.

His older self is in there with Quentin's older self. They're not filing their taxes.

"Oh, jeez!"

"Fair. Then tell me—" So backlogged with curious questions is Quentin's head that he's almost on to some other inquiry. Then when Kyle opens that door everything that might have been in his head falls immediately out of it.

"Tell me about that," he says. His face lighting up over this unexpected discovery. "And then tell me if you think it counts as exhibitionism or voyeurism if you're watching yourself."

Kyle squeaks and tries to shut the bedroom door.

"Voyeurism! And of COURSE I hope we'll maintain a healthy sex life!"

"No! Wait! I need to see what great moves I've learned on you by the time we're both artifacts!" That's probably not how time works in what amounts to a fantasy — not a future— but he's grasping at whatever he can for a moment more of this.

"C'mon, look how happy you look! Don't rob yourself of finding that joy sooner!"

"You already know all the moves!"

Kyle peeks, though. He has to.

"...okay, admittedly you're pretty hot."

"Pftf, of course I am! You made me!" he reminds. "If your fantasy husband isn't hot, I'd be worried about you."

He tucks his arm around Kyle so they can both comfortable occupy the door way for a minute. At least until he realizes they're ducking out there for no good reason.

He pushes the door open further. Vision or not it's real enough to feel a little weird. Which is probably why Quentin can't just walk away.

"There's so many things about you I wouldn't have guessed. Even your beard I still can't get over. Don't get me wrong, I'm way into it. It looks good as hell. And you've still got this bubble butt at what? 40? You must be planning on playing basket ball forever. BTW don't think I haven't noticed just how pink your ass is by now— do I need to make note of this babe? Ratchet up the spankings?"

Kyle groans and tugs at Quentin's sleeve. "My dad has a beard," he says. "And I can actually grow one, I just don't like the maintenance. Come on, I think we've seen enough, I'm going to let go of this menorah, dude."

"Is that who you think you look like? Your dad?" Probably not the question Kyle wants to consider while watching his middle-aged self in bed, but as usual, Quentin is fairly shameless.

"Ok, ok," he huffs and steals one more look. As if he might be able to burn the image of enough future into his brain so that it might supplant the others. "I love everything in your head though. Just so you know."

"No, I actually look a lot like my mom which I don't wanna think about right this second."

He shuts the door after one final peek - older Quentin,he thinks, really is still gorgeous - and sighs.

"Okay." He says the menorah down and suddenly they're back surrounded by curios.

"That really didn't weird you out?"

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