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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...

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

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"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?"

"Either way. You're a hottie," he assures. "Next time I'm in your head show me your folks. And where you grew up," he suggests. Interested in a fuller picture than he's gleaned from the little half formed thoughts he's caught passing glimpses of.

The switch from here to there when Kyle puts down the menorah still feels a bit little stepping off the merry-go-round. Quentin blinks the vertigo away and puts his hand in Kyle's again.

"Course not. Getting all up in other people's thoughts— kind of my specialty," he points out. "Or do you just mean the whole family mood?"

Kyle snortlaughs, but he's pleased. "I will, promise."

Equally dizzy, Kyle squeezes Quentin's hand as he steps back.

"The family thing," he clarifies. He's not done poking around - maybe more oddities contain more fantasies, he thinks.

"It's surprising," he admits. "And not just because we don't know what dimension this even is."

Quentin too lets his eyes and hands go back to the shelves of knickknacks. Mostly because too much eye contact when having an honest conversation makes him anxious.

"I'm not gonna lie. I think I'd be a shitty parent and I've never... well, I just don't think too much about the future. Not beyond a few days or minutes really." He sets a little toy solider back in a long line of them. "Everything I know about it... is kind of bleak."

But I've changed my mind before. I can change my mind again."

Edited 2022-02-10 00:16 (UTC)

"Yeah," Kyle agrees. He's a little anxious, but not enough to feel unsafe. He watches Quentin fidget his way through the curios. "I know it's a little self indulgent."

He nods as he examines a little glass elephant.

"All those futures were before this place," he points out optimistically.

"Self indulgent? Dreaming about stuff? I mean i guess but like. If we don't exist to indulge ourselves a little what the fuck is the point!" he insists. Clearly self indulgence is not something Quentin reads for a vice.

"Some of them," he nods before realizing that was probably Kyle's effort to be comforting and his technical rebuttal suddenly feels a little cold. "I mean, yeah. You're right. I'm just also not old enough for some of them to have happened yet. And maybe they will. Or maybe I've already averted them. Or maybe this place itself is a spanner in the works of the great fate machine."

Remember when we first met?"

"Heh. Okay. True."

Kyle looks over, smiling. "How could I forget? You were such an insufferable douchebag."

"What!? I was not!" he whirls around to declare it so.

And then walks it back a bit.

"I mean. Maybe I was... are you talking about that weird masquerade party, or that empty theatre?"

Kyle tips his head back to yodel laughter at the ceiling.

"Uhm. Both. But what was your point?

He glowers a little. But not enough to mean it.

"My POINT was, the first time we met I was reliving one of my own prophetic endtimes. Remember?"

Kyle thinks back and nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I guess you were."

He looks around, then snuggles up to kiss the top of Quentin's head.

"If you're a fiery bird god, you can decide your own future, I think."

He leans into Kyle when he's close enough to he leaned on. His stupid bashful smile cannot be contained by his desire to be right and obstinate.

"I'm not that," he admits quietly. Reluctantly even. "Not yet anyway. But when I am. You'll never be rid of me. Promise."

Kyle wraps his arms around Quentin's waist.

"Even if you never are," he promises softly.

"Ugh," he doesn't so much lay his head against Kyle's shoulder as he does fling himself there in a hyperbolic little fit of tired frustration.

"Your optimism is insufferable," he mutters, sulking like a toddler being talked out of a tantrum.

"I know," Kyle replies smugly.

"C'mon. Let's see if we can find something YOU recognize.:

"You don't have to dig up any artifacts to get an invite to my head," he reminds. This, he thinks, is very clever. A good way to ensure he has control over the things Kyle sees. Because frankly, if these tchotchkes are serving up some fantasy of theirs Quentin can't be sure it's anything he wants Kyle to see.

Nevertheless, he's too nosy, and too egotistical, to completely ignore the likelihood that this little flea market has something in store specifically for him.

Plus, the bold red X Logo on his inhaler is sort of unmissable.

Kyle spots it and points. "Is... dude. You had asthma?" He laughs. "Holy fucking shit, we're both such nerds!"

Quentin's eye go wide. It's been a minute since he's seen one of those and here he looks a little reluctant to touch it.

"I did. Have asthma," he mutters, feigning bitterness at Kyle's laughter. "But that was for drugs. Like. The recreational kind."

Kyle blinks, then looks back at the inhaler.

"...pick it up," he urges, hands finding Quentin's shoulder. "I wanna see where it takes us."

The way he stares at it like it might bite him makes him look like it's already taken him some place else.

"You're not gonna like it. I just know it," he sighs. When has he ever fantasized about things that didn't terrify people?

Steeling himself like a man trying to beat a polygraph test, Quentin takes a deep breath and reaches for his inhaler.

Just like before, the room they're in falls away. A vast city, and lush greenery beyond that sprawls out before them from however many storeys they are above it all.

"Whoa," Quentin smiles. It's not exactly cozy and domestic, but it is the last place he considered home.

Out on the mezzanine that lifts them up above a bustling Krakoan society a crowd of costumed people and mutants have gathered. Lining either side of a long red carpet.

Quentin reaches behind him just to make sure Kyle's still within reach.

Edited 2022-02-10 05:12 (UTC)

He is. Of course he is. Kyle wraps his arms around Quentin's chest and hugs him. "I'm here," he murmurs against his ear.

"Is this Krakoa?"

"Uh huh," he nods. His attention momentarily fractured, but relieved to find Kyle behind him. "I mean. Sort of. Some it. It's different. It's grown. It's not this big yet. There's not this many people. This much city..."

Weirdly, he can't ever recall any day dreams about what the burgeoning mutant nation would look like in 10 or 20 years and beyond. But whatever power fuels this place it manages to fill in the gaps strangely well.

There's a wince stuck on his face as he squeezes Kyle's hand and steps towards that huge terrace where the crowd is. "Pleasedon'tbeafascistpleasedon'tbeafascistpleasedon'tbeafascist..." he mumbles as thy creep closer.

Behind the onlookers, there at the end of the stretch of red carpet stands Quentin. Or rather some imagined version of him. Without looking more than a moment older than he is now, he somehow manages to be both taller, a skosh more muscled and impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored black on black suit.

More noticeable though than any of these things is the fact that he seems permanently enveloped in a persistent, but apparently harmless, flame.

"Oh no..." he's already sighing to himself. Perhaps a bit prematurely though.

A few dignitaries step aside to make way for Kyle Broflovski. Escorting him to the end of that carpet next to Quentin. His hair a perfect fade. His suit a perfect cream counterpoint to Quentin's. When a trio of mutant children, one tailed, one green, one winged approach him, Kyle lowers himself just enough to let them adorn his head with a crown of Krakoan Flowers and Wundagore Everblooms.

One of the dignitaries speaks in a language Quentin doesn't know. Another speaks Hebrew and wraps them in a Tallit. A third translates.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."

Edited 2022-02-10 05:55 (UTC)

CW: nsfw

Re: CW: nsfw

CW: nsfw

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