polylogs | Destination: Carcosa

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!

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

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( frankly, sam doesn't see why they're paying for anything when it would be just as easy to steal what they need and be on their way. but nate's turned over a new leaf, apparently (at least for the time being), so he drags sam around collecting his art supplies, exchanges real money for them — and sam, to his credit, only makes one or two offhanded remarks about nate's artistic talents, which is practically fucking considerate of him. (it's cute seeing nate get so worked up about it, and, anyway, he wouldn't exactly be the older brother if he didn't rib his younger sibling at every given opportunity.)

doesn't stop sam from swiping a pack of smokes from a newsstand, though.

or, really, every newsstand. so sue him.

by the time his eye catches the lighters in the window, he's already amassed at least five packs of cigarettes, stuffed into the generously deep pockets of his pants.

he shoots nate a mildly annoyed look at that knowing expression of his — because, yeah, even a blind monkey could read nate's face right now, but at least sam has built up a tolerance to this particular brand of guilt over the years. )

What, you expect me to chew on these cigarettes like candy? 'Course I need a lighter, Nathan. And — ( he gestures to a particularly shiny gold one at the front. ) — as you can clearly see, I am a man of refined taste.

( miss him with that matches bullshit. what is he, a caveman? )

[ They're good drawings, Sam. Come on, you've seen 'em. Or at least — a few of them, right before they wound up in this place and the notebook he'd been carrying around with him appeared to get lost in the shuffle between universe-crossing. Still, he's pretty happy with the purchases he's made here, and he's not-so-secretly excited to test out the stack of pencils too. Imagine that: real art supplies from the 1920s; oh, it's something he'd love to tell Elena about, only — well. Never mind.

Anyway. ]

There were other lighters at the newstands. [ — said in the equivalent tone of 'we have McDonalds at home'. And don't think Nate didn't notice Sam subtly swiping cigarettes out from under newstand vendors' noses, not once, not even twice either. ] Sure, nothing as fancy — [ Nate gestures lightly towards the pieces displayed on red velvet pedestals. ] — but is it really worth whatever may or may not happen if we get caught?

[ That last part is hushed under his breath, and Nate knows it's pretty much a moot argument; he can already tell there's no real way around this, and he's going to be roped into some quick-thought scheme and a lighter's vanishing act. He knows this. Still, maybe it does some iota of good to at least try and attempt to steer them both on the right path, even when he's already casing out the exit routes and watching the uniformed doormen from his position on the sidewalk. ]

( ah, yes, he loves being chastised by his little brother. he takes a breath, releases it slowly, as if he's actually considering listening to nate for once. and maybe he is, briefly, but it's quickly outweighed by the gold lighter in the window that seems to be calling to him. look at it, it was meant for him. )

Come on, Nathan, what's the worst that could happen?

( remember that part where he got shot and spent the last fifteen years in a panamanian prison? literally nothing could be worse than that, not even an old-timey 1920s lockup. not that he intends to get caught — he's not exactly itching to go back to any kind of jail anytime soon, but he feels like the odds of getting away with petty thievery are more in his favor here. the police are in the mob's pocket and sam knows a thing or two about how the mob works. they'll be fine. )

Those lighters back there'll last a week, maybe. ( which could be a guess that's totally off base considering he's basing this on how modern lighters work. he's not exactly a historian of cigarette lighters. ) I'm just thinking long-term here. Next place we end up may not be as flush with goods.

You're seriously asking me 'what's the worst that can happen'?

[ Do you hear that incredulity in your little brother's voice right now, Samuel? Because oh boy, it's there.

Nate could practically laugh, but he won't because at this rate he's already unvoluntarily-voluntarily signed up for this particular little quest; Sam's already committed himself to it, and stubbornness runs in the Drake family. Call it what you will: loyalty, guilt, a desperate need to protect his brother, but like hell is Nate going to risk another situation where they get separated because he wasn't there to provide some kind of back-up. ]

Okay, so assuming I'm not changing your mind any time soon — what's our play, then?

[ And no, he's not currently considering how he should have picked up a few more spare notebooks if it turns out the next location they move to lacks all of the modern comforts they're used to. ]

( yeah, he hears it alright, and he's also going to shrug it off completely. he shoots nate a look back that basically says don't use that tone with me, and while you're at it, don't look at me like that. maybe he's being boldly and wildly optimistic here, or maybe he just has a little bit of faith that together they're both good enough to be able to pull this off without a hitch. security in this era is practically nonexistent, which is great for them. if they can break into a heavily guarded black market auction, they can pull a simple lift from a vintage department store. he's not expecting to get shot at by an army of rent-a-thugs for trying to steal a lighter. it'll be a walk in the goddamn park.

at first it might not seem like he's fully listening, but really he's thinking about ten steps ahead when nate asks him what their play is, so it takes him a second to backtrack to the present. nate's not the only one who does that thing. it runs in the family. his hands are about to start flying as he goes over the plan, so strap in. )

Alright, here's how we run it: you go in first, act natural. Look like you're picking something out for the wife. ( is that a sensitive subject? it's fine. moving on. ) Then I'll come in and find the attendant, chat her up a bit, get her to show me the lighters on display, let me take a look at my options, you know. Let her try to sell me on the ones I don't want, especially the ones worth more than a pretty penny. That's when you come over, grab her attention. You need help with something, her feminine opinion. It's for the wife, you see, and you're hopelessly lost. I'll say it's fine, I'll wait here, it's a busy day, I understand — I need more time to consider my options, anyway. You keep her occupied elsewhere, then I'll palm the lighter when no one's looking and walk right back out. We'll meet back around the block. Easy.

[ Come on, Sam, Nate's a professional. Sure, his last interaction with Elena hadn't exactly been the gold standard for a healthy, happy marriage, but he can pull himself through it, act like everything's fine, and no one would be the wiser.

He won't even complain at the mention of it, just nods along.

It's a simple enough plan, really. Security isn't going to be difficult to get past, which is a blessing, and it's true — they've done a hell of a lot worse in their day. This'll be more akin to the kind of ruses they used to pull when they were much younger and Sam was still actively teaching Nate the ropes on pilfering small, insignificant goods, lifting wallets from back pockets, that kind of thing. ]

Yeah — easy. [ Nate's thinking of the ways it could go wrong, but no one knows who they are, never seen either of them before; and the store itself looks to be a little crowded, which is perfect for disappearing — all in all, it could work. ] All right. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

[ It helps that they're both wearing clothing appropriate to the era; easier to blend in without garnering any kind of suspicion. He straightens the lapel of his jacket, and nods. ]

Okay. Let's get you that lighter, then.

( sam's practically beaming when nate agrees — even if he knows the cogs in nate's head are turning over all the ways this plan could fall apart. they're not going to focus on that, though, because they're going to execute this plan so flawlessly they'll practically get a goddamn medal. nate just needs to channel the confidence he had at the rossi estate into this job and they'll be golden.

he pats nate on the back, giving his shoulder a brotherly shake, encouraging. )

That's the spirit. ( and then with a gentle push toward the main entrance: ) You got this, little brother. I'll see you on the other side.

Yeah, yeah.

[ Nate's voice is begrudging, but there's a little thrill in his chest, that old familiar burst of adrenaline he gets whenever the two of them get up to no good. It's almost nostalgic, really.

But damn, he wishes he had a hat. That fedora he'd picked up and put back down the other day would have gone perfectly with this particular outfit — but ah, well. He'll just have to make do.

Casual as they come, Nate walks into the department store like a regular husband just looking for a regular something-nice for his regular wife, heading up towards the counter with a particularly pretty display of earrings and hats and gloves. He peers at one of the items, picks up a pair of white gloves with little accents of lace — simple, elegant, actually something Elena might like.

Hm. ]

( sam isn't too far behind, but for a moment he pretends to walk away from the store entirely, then conveniently decides to change his mind. there are just some things you can't pass up, right? that's the idea.

upon entering, he scans the store for an attendant, some pretty thing in a plain yet official-looking blouse and skirt, his eye catching briefly on his brother at a counter to his right. so far so good.

and then when it seems he looks a bit lost himself, a young woman approaches him with a dainty little smile and asks if there's anything she can help him with. and, well, as a matter of fact there is — you see, it's his father's birthday coming up and he needs a one-of-a-kind gift and those lighters in the window, well, those sure are one-of-a-kind, but he's not quite sure which one would suit best, so if he could just take a closer look at that top row there ...

naturally, she's more than happy to oblige and removes the top row of the display for him to consider at a counter not far from the display window, asks him about his "father" and what his particular tastes are, and sam fills her in with all the charming details about an imaginary parent who doesn't exist, then proceeds to tell her some witty anecdote about his mother trying to get his father to quit smoking, to no avail — and how, actually, she reminds him of his mother when she was younger.

the conversation veers away from the lighters for a moment, sam tossing around easy compliments like change at a bum, but eventually they find the right track again, sam pretending to lean toward choosing an engraved silver one on her recommendation, it's just a little out of his budget —

and then someone appears next to them with an excuse me and they both look toward a man he has certainly never seen before in his life nor is he related to. this is all a perfectly normal part of a totally normal busy day, other customers demanding attention from an already occupied attendant. nothing suspicious at all going on here. )

[ No, no, of course not. Nothing at all suspicious going on around these parts. Nate just needs an expert's advice on which colour and pattern would suit his wife best, and if he looks a little meek and confused and overwhelmed by the amount of merchandise on display, it's perfectly normal.

He doesn't often do the shopping, after all. But he's a modern man and he does so want to make a good impression. ]

Ah, hi. [ Said to the saleswoman. ] I'm so sorry to bother you, miss, but I really am feeling, ah — a little helpless. [ Nate turns to Sam, offers an apologetic shrug. ] My wife's birthday is coming up and I want it to be special.

[ He's sure you understand, complete stranger he absolutely is not related to and has never seen before in his life. ]

( the attendant looks a little helplessly between them, unsure if she should abandon her first customer for another — if you could wait just a moment, sir — but sam just smiles reassuringly at her. )

Can't upset the wife now, can we? ( said to nate with an easy laugh, eyebrows raised as if to say you know what i mean?

then, to the attendant, with a gesture toward nate when she still looks a bit unsure: ) Please, go ahead. I insist. I'll be ready with my decision when you get back.

( after a moment's consideration, the attendant eventually laughs shakily and nods, smiling at nate with a how can i help you today, sir? )

[ Sam says something about upsetting the wife, and it takes everything in Nate not to flinch at the comment meant for another man in another normal, apple-pie life.

Instead his expression remains unchanged. He's still just as helpless, just as lost in this big shop full of things that his wife may or may not like, and the sheer relief that floods his face when Sam graciously allows the salesperson to assist him is clear when he nods gratefully. ]

I owe you one, pal — [ is said before Nate gently guides the assistant back over to the other side of the counters, her back facing Sam and the lighters, while Nate tries to list off all of the things his wife likes in a gift. ]

She can be pretty particular. [ He pulls his focus in on another random trinket, something the sales assistant might have a specific opinion on. It's sparkly, at least. ] How about —

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Destination: Carcosa

just gotta brocure a few items 🛍

this will be brositively wonderful (or horrible)

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