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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: Carcosa
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.
There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.
You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.
Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea. There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Connor | Detroit: Become Human | OTA
[It's easier not to think about his current situation (Having been abducted, waking up on a ship, arriving at an island) if he keeps his mind busy. He's made his way to the temple on this island mostly by chance, his afternoon spent absorbing as much information as he could scan of the city he's found himself in. It's very...bright, in a way that Detroit is not- for being a city full of androids, Detroit still looked old and tired, sagging around the edges. This city looks new and artistic and vibrant, so that when he finally arrives at the temple, he's struck by the contrast between the city surrounding it and the building itself. He can tell that the architecture is similar to that of rest of the city, but it looks older, worn and run-down. The most striking thing about it is the stick figure in the center, so after exploring for a bit and helping himself to a bottle of thirium, he sinks to a lotus position in front of it, contemplating whatever it might mean and speaking softly to no one in particular.]
Is this something we're meant to understand?
⭕ THE MASQUERADE
[Connor's been called a chameleon before; thanks to his social integration programming suite he can become anything to anyone, whatever they might need from him in that moment. Why should it surprise him to find that his oversized mask seems to be that of the lizard? He hasn't seen it for himself, but in feeling around it trying to figure out how to remove it, he's gotten a good enough idea for his reconstruction software to build up a decent enough representation in his HUD, suddenly confirmed when he spies himself in the mirror over the bar. Well that's just great. The ridiculousness of it all makes him that much more eager to get the damned thing off of him, but of course it's not that easy. Openly watching others trying to remove theirs brings him to the realization that he's not alone in this, at least, but it's cold comfort for his dismay. Maybe- could someone else get it off him? Could it hurt to ask? He approaches someone who, like him, also has a sigil on their outfit, reminding him very strongly of the figure he was trying to figure out in the temple. It's possible the mask and sigil are connected, so it stands to reason he'll have a better chance talking to someone with both.]
Excuse me, may I trouble you for a moment?
⭕ THE PLAY
[Connor's never been to a theatre before. It seems promising, and the building is grand enough to attract his attention and draw him in. He's made himself comfortable in the plush seats, settling back to wait for the performance to begin. There don't seem to be many others at the show, but he's fine with that; after the awkwardness of the party, some time to be alone and distracted from his thoughts is just what the technicians would probably order. He frowns when the curtains go up though- where are the actors? Why is there only a table and- is that another mask? What's going on? Rising, he warily approaches the stage, but he hears nothing backstage, no one bustling about, no one waiting in the wings to make their entrance. He climbs the short set of stairs, walking over to the table with his frown growing ever deeper. What is going on here? Reaching out, he cautiously pokes at the mask, unsure what to make of it all.]
⭕ LOST CARCOSA
[Away from the party, away from the theatre, away from the city, there is the beach. Deviancy so far isn't going the way Connor had hoped, but maybe he'll be able to clear his head and quiet the warnings appearing on his HUD with a walk? His plan might even have worked if not for the human skull his scanners pick up on several meters ahead, strangely yet beautifully decorated with gems and jewels in intricate patterns. His detective software suite immediately spools up, but something more than that seems to be compelling him forward. But no. No. Not again. He's already admitted far too much for one day, and he's too wrung out emotionally to go through this again. Clenching his jaw and balling up his fists at his sides, he walks determinedly around the skull, manually deactivating his investigative software and striding on down the beach, turning his head to the sky to gaze at the unfamiliar stars overhead. He's never spent time looking at stars before, never thought about how they glittered coldly and dispassionately down at the beings who stared up at them. They were pretty in a distant way, and he thought that he might be lulled into stasis by them when they started fading and growing hazy. With a start, his brows furrowed as he realized the haze wasn't in his mind. There was a fog rolling in, making everything murky and bringing with it a chill that seemed to seep into his core. It was time to head back to the bed he'd claimed in the temple, before- wait, were those corpses?!?]
⭕ WILDCARD
[Want to do something else? Talk to me on plurk here:
The Masquerade
Of course, she could be wrong. Her experience of the island so far doesn’t exactly point to everything being as it should be. A trick, maybe? Another layer to whatever purpose the masks serve? Or is it really just as simple as it appears – another android from Detroit being swept up and taken away.
There’s a sort of comfort in that. The identity of her fellow aside, just having someone else like herself eases some of Chloe’s tensions (even if it may create new ones in their place). And it can be looked at as an opportunity to perhaps one day say some of the things that may need to be said.
Hopefully he’s put it behind him. A single blip in a single day and nothing more. A machine doing that which he was created to do during a task he had been set. Perhaps the whole event is of little significance.
That would be nice. That would be good for him. Yes. Very good indeed.
With identities unconfirmed, she decides to play it safe. Just in case. Turning to him, blue eyes peer through the mask and into his. ]
Of course. How may I assist you?
[ Is she spouting a line that sounds more android? Maybe. ]
no subject
Whatever the case, it doesn't change anything. It can't change anything. He still has a question, and pretending that hearing this particular voice bothers him in any way won't solve his problem. Steeling himself, he calms his spinning red LED to blue with an effort, and ensures that his voice is flat and rock steady when he speaks again, but seeing her striking blue eyes through that disturbing mask almost weakens his resolve. Almost. Does she remember what he nearly did to her? Is this even the same Chloe? Does she hate him as much as he hates himself?]
I was wondering if you could help me remove this mask.
[There, his voice didn't waver, and there was no emotion behind it. A simple request, that was all.]
no subject
The unpredictability of deviants is meant to be a danger but it’s the cold predictability of a machine that can be far more dangerous. An order is just an order. A bargain is just a bargain.
And it doesn’t make sense. If he was just a machine, she wouldn’t be standing here now. Not this iteration of herself, anyway.
A return to a default? The forfeiture of feelings? Had he not pushed through enough and so was able to pull himself back?
At least the blank doll-face covers any expression. The last thing she wants to do is aggravate the Deviant Hunter. Even if they’re in a room full of people, even if they’re not in Detroit, even if those labels don’t matter any more… She can’t.
So her tone remains as pleasant as it’s ever been. Underneath the mask, she forces a smile so it can reach her eyes. ]
Oh. Well. Yes, I’d be glad to help but… It doesn’t seem as simple as just removing it.
no subject
She seems just a pleasant and doll-like as she's ever been. Maybe she hasn't deviated? He wouldn't put it past Kamski to keep his own personal androids machines.]
By ourselves, no. But with another's help it may be possible.
no subject
Things are different. This isn’t Detroit. There’s no information to be gleaned. Not from a man who issues tests, anyway. There’s no reason to be afraid of a machine.
It’s alright. It’s all alright.
And if the focus remains on the problem at hand, it will all be fine. There are far bigger things for Connor to concern himself with. ]
If you mean in terms of someone else being able to prise it off, I don’t think that’s going to help much…
[ Her tone is careful. Sweet, but evidently wary of saying the wrong thing. ]
Not to say we couldn’t find a solution together, of course.
no subject
On the contrary, there is a wealth of information here to discover! It's just that deviant androids aren't likely to be the source of any answers here, especially if it's only the two of them. Connor sure as hell doesn't know what's going on. But no, Chloe has nothing to fear from him- at least, nothing that he doesn't already fear about himself.]
That's exactly what I mean.
[His eyes narrow, a frown forming. It's not any expression she won't have seen before on him; even when he wasn't deviant, in some ways he still had much more freedom of thought and behavior than other androids. He doesn't like Chloe's suggestion, not wanting to become reliant on anyone here for anything.]
What do you propose?
no subject
See? It’s just… locked in place. For want of a better way to describe it.
[ Drawing her hand back, she laces her fingers together and holds her hands neatly at her stomach. Whether there’s reason to be afraid or not, Chloe isn’t looking to appear confrontational in any way. Just polite, pleasant and ready to assist. The desire to look down at the floor is strong, but she maintains eye contact with him. ]
Well… The ones who aren’t wearing the sigil keep mentioning secrets… Perhaps that has something to do with it.
[ For once, she leaves her thoughts there. She isn’t the detective here, and she doesn’t want to antagonise by stepping on toes. ]
no subject
I see. It didn't hurt to test the hypothesis.
[She's giving him his space, enough room for him to settle, take a breath, and compose himself. And why wouldn't she? Chloe was designed to be the perfect companion and hostess, to be innocuous and unobtrusive, and all to Kamski's particular specifications. Was it even possible for her to offend? Although the eye contact is peculiar; he isn't sure what to make of it yet.]
I've heard similar whisperings, but I thought to explore other options first so as not to leave any stone unturned. Unless you have a secret to share, I won't trouble you further.
[His voice is nonchalant, almost dismissive, as though he has no secrets of his own. He doesn't, at least none that he cares to voice. But Chloe- through his mask, he stares at her shrewdly, assessing. Processing.]
no subject
Finally she gives in and diverts her gaze. But at least it’s to look around the room rather than fix her focus down at the floor. There’s no need to make it all worse by making it seem like there’s something wrong. Well, something other than what’s inherently wrong about the circumstances. ]
Yes. Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that ideas shouldn’t be tested. I was only trying to help.
[ Because that’s what she does, doesn’t she? Help. Oh yes, Chloe is so very helpful. Whatever you need, it doesn’t matter. Chloe is right there to assist.
Whatever it is.
Still, she looks out to the crowd, calming herself. There’s no sense in getting more wound up than she already is. So she answers him in a soft voice. ]
You aren’t troubling me.
[ The pause is palpable. If she’s going to have to lay her cards on the table at some point, may as well do it out in the open. Social protocol should hopefully mitigate reactions to some extent. ]
I’m a deviant.
[ Not strictly in the way the Deviant Hunter is familiar with, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And saying it aloud… It’s disgusting. She was given everything and this is what she has become. This… thing was never the intended design. It’s shameful. So shameful.
She feels the mask give. For a moment or two, she lets it stay in place. Maybe it would have been better to be seen as that than to be seen for what she really is.
Too late now.
Slipping off the mask, she turns her head to give Connor a sidelong look. While there’s a flicker of fear in her eyes, there’s also acceptance. Not of herself, not by a long shot, but of whatever the confession’s consequences might be. ]
no subject
I did ask for help, so thank you. We have eliminated the possibility of another person being able to remove the mask, so now we can forge ahead with others.
[He watches her carefully when she looks away, noting how her stress levels seem to be lowering a few percentage points. It's good that she's nervous around him, even if it plucks a pang of loneliness in his thirium pump. He's seen no sign of Hank yet, no others like he and Chloe. He knew he wouldn't be bothering the androids of Jericho, and Chloe is better off without the threat he poses, but he hadn't expected to be completely on his own so soon after deviating. He'd hoped for Hank at least.
He nods at her confession, folding his hands together behind his back. Now it's his turn to gaze around the room, taking in the other party-goers before his eyes land back on her form. He can read the tension there, the lingering distress in her posture.]
I suspected as much.
[His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, something a human would never have noticed as he watches her remove the mask after her confession. How he longs for his quarter to drain off some of his excess nerves! It's harder for him to read his fellow androids, but the brief flash of fear is unmistakable. He tilts his head, absorbing the information his HUD is telling him about her: the increased pace of her thirium pump, her rate of unnecessary respiration, the slivers of red that creep into the yellow of her rapidly cycling LED. He knows that his own LED matches hers, dreading the thought of having to reveal a secret in order to rid himself of this loathsome mask. And yet the more he gives it attention, the greater the compulsion to confess becomes. He bows his head, his eyes falling to the floor as his voice drops to little above a whisper.]
I am afraid.
[Of everything, as he feels his LED burn red in his temple.]
no subject
And if she was going to do something like that, wouldn’t she have done so by now?
All these people… She’s no threat to them. Her emotions are most damaging to herself, and she knows how to hide them well enough. It isn’t like she’s going to hurt anyone. Out of all the dark thoughts that she can have, acting out against anyone else doesn’t enter the equation.
And she knows he’s watching her.
Signs of guilt? Signs that the unstable android will pose a danger?
Is that why she’s here? Correction – why they’re both here? So what was resisted on one day can now come to pass?
Was that the design all along?
More red bleeds into the spinning light at her temple. But what comes out of his mouth makes her take pause. Makes her look at him more closely. He shouldn’t be afraid. Unless it’s a polite way of telling her he’s sorry for what he might be about to do.
Not that he would really be sorry either.
Yet his voice, his stance, she doesn’t interpret it as lying. Maybe it’s because she wants it to be, but it seems genuine. Genuine enough for her to step closer and lightly place a hand on his arm. Her own voice is quiet, soft. ]
What are you afraid of?
no subject
If anyone poses a danger here, it's him, but not for any deliberate actions. People may end up as collateral damage, maybe not physically, but it's still not what he wants. What he wants- what he wants is to feel safe. He doesn't know what that's like, but he knows it's a good thing, it's important for a person's well-being. Except that he's not a person, he's a machine, and machines don't want anything.
His gaze slides away from her face to the hand she's touched to his arm, freezing him in place. His mask feels heavy and oppressive, hot and stifling and like he can't breathe, even if he doesn't need to. Thirium runs hot in his artificial veins, flushing his skin a pale blue as his pump struggles to keep up with his processor and his scarlet LED. His words are whisper-soft now, but there is purpose behind them.]
I am afraid of myself.
(no subject)
(no subject)
the temple
So far, they seem to be minding their own business, though, at least.
Unlike Anders himself, of course. Although it's likely inadvisable, he can't help but follow the impulse to poke about. He's doubtful it'll lead him to an escape, here, but this place still has its draw. The other so-called Travelers milling about, for one.
He pulls a face as he looks over that roughly cobbled together shape, its slapdash paintjob making it look all the more unappealing, as he steps closer. ]
Beats me! Though I have a sinking suspicion they don't mean for us to understand any of this.
no subject
Composing himself- though it was doubtful the man recognized his momentary alarm -he squints up at him from where he's sitting, looking at him thoughtfully for a beat.]
If that's the case, then why bother with any of this? [He shakes his head, turning to look at the wooden figure again.] Or maybe that's what we were brought here to find out?
no subject
Why do anything when you have all this power, if not simply because you can? I don't think there's all that much to it. You live long enough to be called the Ancient, you probably get bored a lot, don't you think?
[ He pauses, thoughtful, and waves a hand at that ugly wooden figure. ]
Unless, of course, you just mean this, specifically. In which case, I'd say bad art doesn't really need a reason to exist, does it?
no subject
I...don't think that's it? Boredom could certainly factor into it, but I think there's more to everything going on around us than we realize- than we're allowed to realize. I think the Ancient needs us. I think they might be scared of something.
[Connor snorts, his head swinging in amusement. He turns to look over his shoulder at Anders again.]
I don't agree. Art this bad should come with a justification for its existence. Even a small plaque would do.
no subject
[ Well. He will. In Anders' experience, though, the more power someone has, the more apt they are to abuse it - and often not for such clear cut reasons as needing help. That, he might've understood, at least.
He shrugs when Connor looks back at him, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. ]
Terrible idea. You've already seen what they can do with wood and some paint. Do you honestly want to give them a chance to assail you with their words, as well? I can only imagine the plodding, dismal essay it would take to justify this thing!
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[Connor's LED flashes yellow. His own experience with those in power is much the same as far as the abuse and taking advantage of those without, but he is also distressingly aware that as humans came to rely on androids, the need for them was created. And even such a powerful entity as Cyberlife itself needed him to do its dirty work. Those in power here needing the help of lesser beings to do things that maybe they no longer could or would for themselves wouldn't surprise Connor in the slightest. He doesn't understand why that makes him an optimist.
He purses his lips against the small grin that wants desperately to escape.]
I'll give you that one. [His own lips twist into a smirk.] Do you think they have poetry here?
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But Anders has a sense he'd be sending them in pedantic circles, if he argued with this one. (A certain corpse-y spirit comes to mind. Although Connor's already leagues ahead, there, considering he has some clear propensity for facial expressions other than dour disapproval.) ]
Do you really want to check? They might pen nothing but odes to this horrible thing.
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Anders is a smart man. Connor could argue the point at length, far beyond what might be necessary. But- corpse-y spirit? He'd argue against the existence of ghosts, too. He scrunches up his nose in distaste.]
Do you really think they might? I'll admit I'm torn- part of me does want to check, but the other part is now afraid of what I could find.
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In the meantime, though. ]
Oh, no, now you have to. Or if you don't, I will. Then I can follow you around, quoting passages from whatever dreadful tomes I do find. ...On second thought, that might be more fun.
[ He's joking. Probably. ]
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In the meantime...
For a second he looks fearful that Anders might just do exactly as he says. He'll need to nip this bud right off, so he comes to a decision, standing abruptly.]
Come on, then. I think there's a library around here somewhere. I'm not about to let you have all the fun. We'll quote dreadful poetry at each other instead.
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So of course he's going to follow along. ]
Oh, ordinarily I'd say that's second date talk - but I'll settle for a proper introduction before we start picking our sonnets?
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...Oh. Are we on a date now? My name is Connor- I'm the andr- it's just Connor. I've never been on a date before. Is there something I should be doing?
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