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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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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)

"Must be a future," Kyle muses, smiling. He's glad for the opportunity to see where Quentin lives in his own universe. He pointedly ignores his whispered prayer, because the idea of his boyfriend as a fascist isn't one he likes to examine much. He figures that probably means something.

When he sees Quentin he's too blown away by how beautiful he looks to think of a dig fast enough about how this is probably a fantasy about being a god. But then people part and he's there and he understands what's being said and being done and he very nearly faints.

"Q?" he whispers, hands groping blindly for Quentin. He can't take his eyes off of the scene in front of them.

Kyle's not wrong in his suspicions. Even if the moment overshadows all the other manner of auspice here.

When Kyle's hands swat at him, Quentin reaches back. His eyes light up brightly with both the relief that he's not a complete tyrant in this fantasy and that by the grace of whatever god governs magical flea markets he hasn't been sent a vision of posh blondes or a corset wearing Black Queen once imagined in his youth.

When the initial relief wears off, he turns intensely red. "Uh. Well. At least it's not too ostentatious," he offers.

And if on cue the ceremony continues.

"...a union not just good for one Krakoan and one Human. But for all of Krakoa. For our human brothers and sisters. For the future of peaceful co-existence. For life on Earth and Arakko. May we all share your eternal happiness. I pronounce you, Quentin and Kyle, sovereign Kings of new Okkara."

No sooner are those words spoken then the crowd below erupts in celebration.

"Ok so it's a little extra..." Quentin mumbles.

"You made us kings?!" Kyle whisper-shrieks. His fingers dig into Quentin's and he shakes their hands together. He's grinning like mad.

"Oh my god, Q, this is amazing!"

"Well," he shrugs innocently. "Go big or go back to reality, I guess." At least Kyle seems into the idea. "I am host to a fiery god of resurrection. What else would be interesting enough to keep me on this planet if not you and a cool title."

He chuckles to see Kyle so dazzled by all this. After the quiet comfort of his own fantasy he wasn't sure what sort of reaction to expect to his own, occasionally over blown, ideas. Squeezing his boyfriend's hand Quentin drags them to the balcony to look out at Krakoa and the people here to celebrate them.

"I do think a lot about being able to take you here some day. It's not the first time mutants have tried to establish an ethnostate. But it does finally seem to be working."

Kyle stares in awe. "It's so beautiful," he murmurs. "Like I've been in jungles before, but this is like... yeah. A sci-fi tropical island."

He peers at the wedding again, smiling, then glances at Quentin. "So. You're gonna make an honest man of me."

"It's the future, my dude. And I want you in it with me."

Quentin supposes he has no more claim to belonging to Krakoa than the average mutant, but his own early notions of leading a mutant nation and the fact that the island itself was one of few mutants to befriend him when others did not makes him feel an attachment to it that one might not expected from such an apathetic person.

"An honest king," he beams. "I would though. If you're into that."

Kyle turns fully and drapes his arms over Quentin's shoulders.

"I am into that," he says softly.

"You see me. Even the bad parts."

It's all real enough to feel for a moment like they are there, together, on Krakoa and it's comforting to think that if they make it out of here, there's some place that feels homey he could take Kyle.

He snickers a little and worms his way closer beneath Kyle's arm. "What bad parts?" he says wrinkling his nose like he smells a semantic disagreement under there.

Pushing himself up on his toes he frames Kyle's face between his hands to hold him where he can kiss him. "All your parts are good parts, dingus."

Kyle kisses back, aware dimly of the cheers below them.

"Shut up, they are not. I can be selfish, and violent, and stubborn."

"Yeah, well I like all of those things for you so. Fight me, I guess," he smirks.

"Anytime." He kisses Quentin again with a gentle sort of passion. He pulls away eventually, smiling.

"We gotta stop. For all we know people can see us in that shop getting like a half chub."

He pushes Quentin's hair back. "I promise I'll stick with you forever, dude."

"Oh shit!" his eyes go wide realizing just then that he has no idea what happens to their former bodies once this place whisks them off. "GOD this place is annoying!"

As usual, Kyle's attention soothes his irritation a little. It bugs him endlessly that for the first time in a long time he has no idea what forever looks like. But when Kyle says it, it sounds like the kind of promise they can keep. "I hate how much I kind of of love it when you say rom-com stuff. But. You're fully stuck with me too."

He opens his hand and offers that inhaler back to Kyle if he's ready to leave this place for London again.

Kyle cackles and pulls Quentin to him for another hug.

"I hate how I've turned into a walking romcom," he counters, smiling. He releases Quentin enough that he can use one hand to take the inhaler. The moment he does they're back in the strange little room again.

"You wanna take a walk or something?"

He squeezes Kyle gladly. It's nice to hang on to someone when the world snaps them back in place.

"Yah," he nods. "There's this big garden south of here where rich people sometimes play croquet. We could go fuck with their game," he smiles.

"Dude, yes."

The streets aren't exactly a breath of fresh air, but they could (and have been) worse. Kyle takes Quentin's hand as they walk.

"So I noticed you adopted a whole orphanage recently."

Just the mere prospect of amusing Kyle with a little mischief puts a spring in his step.

"Uh huh?" he confirms with a note of suspicion as to where this line of questioning is leading. "Adopted. Indentured, some like to say. I think I prefer drafted personally, but I'm open to rebranding."

"Q," Kyle says. "You're gonna seriously act like you haven't done anything to be nice to them?"

"No! Course I'm nice! They're just kids! Illiterate ones at that. I'm just saying. I'm running a lucrative business here. Not volunteer babysitting."

Kyle manages to look adoring and smug all at once.

"Right, right. I'm just saying that I think it's great."

"You do?" he asks. "And that's it?"

He looks at Kyle like a man who expects more to that statement. A warning. A castigation. Some kind of moral tutting.

"Why?"

Kyle shoves him. "Don't be so suspicious! Dude, I know you're letting them run amok at the Temple. That's probably the first time any of them has ever had a bath."

His skepticism dissolves into a dopey smile as he stumbles lazily under the weight of that shove.

"Well. Body hauling is hard work. I demand the healthiest orphans," he grins.

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