Destination: Carcosa

[polymods]

✖ 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!

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[queenking]

[Saxsice nods triumphantly, as if this proves a point, waving her free hand around.] That's because I'm ramblin' and you're sober. Which is a problem. [The bartender has long since moved away down the long, gleaming bar, unimpressed by their conversation, so the blonde woman pauses a moment before standing and hiking her form-fitting skirt up to mid-thigh so she can move easier.]

Mind your head. [She hoists herself onto the bar, swinging her legs over and yes, very nearly kicking Maleficent in the face with one of her scuffed pink high heels. Saxsice lands lightly on the other side of the bar, rubbing her hands together with tangible delight.] Okay, lemme see if I can make somethin' that doesn't taste like straight poison, but feels like it.

[Gathering together a couple glasses and an assortment of dubiously labeled bottles, Saxsice glances back at Maleficent, chattering lightly.] So, heard a rumor that gettin' these masks off is as easy as tellin' a secret, but you already know my biggest one, Mal. Guess I could tell you about all the boys n' girls I've secretly kissed, huh?

[medeiun]

[ Maleficent's expression, usually so guarded, as though something kept behind a mask (....despite being literally behind one at the moment), shifts into a rare and open bewilderment, her eyes widening as the other woman tugs her skirt upwards and hoists herself right up onto the bar. The fey jerks her head backwards to avoid being kicked with a heel, her wings giving a very ungraceful flutter of surprise behind her, jutting outwards a bit (possibly knocking any passerby over, she doesn't pay attention to that).

What is happening. Unsure if she's more stunned or appalled, she's just staring widely at the other woman as she proceeds to start making herself quite at home behind the bar counter, chatting away as though nothing had happened. Maleficent takes this opportunity to fluff herself up, ominously, wings extending outwards a bit as she rises to her full height, chin tilted back so that her eyes are looking downwards. Disdainfully. ]

I am quite certain I haven't had the fortune of ascertaining any information about you. Though I'm sure whatever secrets you hold would be..... entertaining. [ Her tone couldn't be dripping with any more sarcasm, because even through her surprise, Maleficent manages to be venomous. It's a defensive mechanism, in its way; the unknown is greeted with thorns, prickly and razorsharp. ...In this case, the unknown is a blonde masked woman parkouring onto the bar and being friendly to her. ]

These masks are obviously secured with magic. Something so simple as a secret couldn't possibly remove them, [ she adds, still glowering. ]

[queenking]

-- oh, cool. [Saxsice is momentarily distracted by the wings rising up and spreading out, seeming much bigger than they had before, likely due to the smaller, more cramped setting they're in. She actually rocks forward, up on her toes to see better, genuine amazement and delight on her face behind the mask.

This soon turns to a scowl, though, and she drops back to her flat feet, heels clicking on the smooth floor.] You wound me, Mal. I thought we had a connection. [Saxsice pitches her voice into a woeful, morose whine, but the flash of toothy grin afterwards takes the petulance out of the statement.] But I get it, I wasn't the stylin' sexy little thing I am now, back then.

[Then she tilts her head to one side, still grinning.] You don't think so? Okay, let's give it a shot, yeah? Can't hurt. [Saxsice leans forward, eyes bright as she says in a soft, playful whisper:] I'm a werewolf.

[Then she reaches up and, with a sound like velcro being ripped apart (not that Maleficent would...know what that sounds like) the mask is removed. Saxsice rubs at her face a moment, wincing.] Woah. It worked.

[medeiun]

[ Pardon? A connection? Does this ghastly person suggest that they have met? Maleficent could laugh, only she's too busy still glowering. She does give a 'tch' sound, and drawls a beat after— ]

I dare say, I would not have forgotten encountering you.

[ "Encountering", like the blonde is some creature in the forest she ran into, instead of a person to meet like normal people do (which......) Social niceties are not the fey's forte in general, much less to be spared on a woman whom she's still largely assuming is human. A woman who's managed to break into and shatter Maleficent's comfort zone in record timing. She's gazing coldly at those bright eyes through the wolf's mask, lifting her own eyebrows once more as the woman speaks. 'I'm a werewolf.'

And the mask is removed, not without some force, but even so. The fey is staring with a different intensity now, partly due to the display of the mask removing — the woman... was right — but mostly for what was said.

A wolf in the barn, a huge white thing with gleaming teeth and bright eyes. A beautiful and intelligent creature, something ancient and powerful: her companion for the night under the moonlight. Maleficent is leaning forwards just slightly, her dark mouth parting as her eyes scan all over the woman's face which has been revealed to her; perhaps Saxsice can hear it, the softest surprised exhale from her lips. ]

You were the wolf. ....You are a shapeshifter. [ Though unfamiliar with the term 'werewolf', she knows of those who shift form. The fey lifts a gloved hand almost like she's going to examine the woman's face, but doesn't actually touch her, just holds it there in the air, fingers curved slightly, clawlike. Her voice is quiet, almost a little awed. ]

....Do you know what I am?

[queenking]

[Saxsice is still busily massaging her face, smushing her cheeks up and then dragging them down, over and over, but she pauses long enough to look delighted and smug about Maleficent's sudden change in demeanor. That never gets old, dropping the whole "werewolf" thing and seeing how people react.]

Mmm-hm, that's me. "Shapeshifter" is probably a better word for it, yeah, cause I'm not dependin' on the moon or whatever. [She massages her jaw once more, then crouches down to rummage through the various liquor and syrups under the bar.] Or I wasn't before I got here. Have you noticed this place makes magic and all that way harder?

[She'll peek back over the bar at the question, giving Maleficent a thoughtful once over.] Fey, I'm guessin'? Never met anyone in person who was, but that's the vibe I get. [Demonstrative finger-wiggle goes here.] Wings and all.

[medeiun]

[ Maleficent's experience with other such beings has been very limited, to say the absolute least. Orphaned and growing up in the Moors, then spending some sixteen years locked away in solitude behind a wall of literal thorns.... She's only so recently discovered what she is, much less been exposed to others.

But oh, something in her spirit knows, just as it had known the wolf she'd encountered was something ancient and ethereal, something far more powerful than any usual creature. She stands there quietly for a long moment, watching the blonde move behind the counter. The wolf and the woman are the same. ]

Yes, [ she confirms the shapeshifter's guess, eyes sparkling behind her own mask as she takes her in. ] I am of the dark fey. [ It's still strange to call herself such; she'd never known that particular piece of her own identity until merely a few weeks ago. ] And yes, to answer your question. This place... has not stolen my magic, but I am still uncertain of the ways it may have been affected by it.

[ To Maleficent, it feels as though some thickness is pressing against her spirit, perhaps keeping her from her full potential. She'll need to do much more observing and testing of her own abilities, though she's wary of how much of herself she exposes in this place. She doesn't trust these people. ]

....What are you making?

[queenking]

[There's very little of that ethereal, measured, canine grace present now -- Saxsice grabs at bottles and vials and stretches to thump them onto the bar without looking, almost spilling half of them, crouching low to reach back on the grimy shelves. When she emerges again, there's dust in her hair and smeared across her cheeks, but she looks triumphant.]

Dark fey, gotcha. [She doesn't; she doesn't have the faintest clue what the difference is, except maybe aesthetic? Saxsice can respect a good aesthetic. She dumps ice into a couple glasses, then begins filling a shaker with this and that -- soda water, lavender syrup, gin.] Same here. Feels like I'm a kid again, nothin' workin' like it should. Moon comes up and bam, I'm all fuzzy. I haven't totally lost control yet, but who knows how long that'll last.

[She shakes her head, capping the shaker and vigorously mixing the ingredients for a moment, then sipping directly from the metal cup. It gets a shrug, and some added lemon juice.] Somethin' tastier than straight gin or champagne. Nothin' against champagne, but after the third glass it gets borin'. Why, you want some?

[medeiun]

[ She is a messy thing in this form, isn't she. Maleficent watches the other woman warily: torn between the lingering, softly awed surprise as to her identity, and...... being increasingly unimpressed by this display.

Though she does recall that slight bit of playfulness the wolf had displayed: how she'd delighted in startling the barn animals, how she'd stretched so carefree under the moonlight. At the time, Maleficent had accepted it as an impish, wild delight, one she can relate to when she is at her most uninhibited. Or... when she was. For she had that tendency, as a young girl: the faefolk's natural love of tricks, of teasing.

...The woman now, however, is just outright clumsy and hazardous and Maleficent narrows her brows again at the way she just dumps everything in. Very loudly. Being so very skilled in conversation, she ignores everything the woman says (though she doesn't forget it; she holds onto the pieces of information regarding ability malfunction and weakness) and even ignores the question. Instead, she asks one of her own— ]

You would so blindly consume the substances offered by humans?

[ There's a judgmental sharpness to her tone. This being, shapeshifter, may be fumbling and irritating, but she's still something more similar to Maleficent than many others here. She should know better than to trust what's here without even so much as examining it first. ]

[queenking]

[Another squeeze of lemon, some bubbly liquid that is either soda water or paint thinner, and this time when Saxsice takes a sip, she smiles triumphantly, finally satisfied. It tastes a little less like straight poison now.

Then Maleficent speaks and she looks back up, eyebrows arching high, nearly disappearing under a couple wild curls that have gotten loose from her demurely fastened bun.] You think they're gonna go through all the trouble of kidnappin' us and then poison us, weeks later? Seems pointless. But, if you're really worried...

[She takes a long, loud slurp from the shaker, pausing for the space of one breath...two...three...and then gesturing at her unharmed self.] See? No problem. Besides, if there was anythin' real bad, I woulda smelled it. [That settled, Saxsice starts salting the rim of a couple glasses.] I'm not afraid of much, Mal, and poisoned drinks are waaaay low on the list.

[medeiun]

[ The woman before her seems to be coming more and more undone — the mask removed, her hair tumbling from its neat hold. Maleficent stands as a stark contrast, tight and bound in all of her black, hair concealed, mask still pressed to her face, keeping so much of it hidden.

There isn't time to protest the woman's decision to down a good deal of the drink — her mouth tips open just slightly in surprise, watching the shapeshifter drink with reckless abandon. And while her judgment is a fearsome beast, Maleficent does have to admit there is logic to that reasoning; of course her senses would be enhanced. It's admittedly... difficult to see this fumbling young woman as that same ancient creature, but that is the reality of it. She is something powerful, no matter if she knows how to get on one's last nerve in a matter of seconds. ]

I see. [ She answers after a moment, gazing pointedly at the blonde's drink. ]

...You must spend a great deal of time around humans, to have such knowledge on concocting their spirits.

[queenking]

[Saxsice pauses a moment, then lets out a hiccup -- the only ill-effect, seemingly, from chugging a good half-cup of suspicious liquor without stopping for breath. Then she pours the rest of the mixture into the two glasses she's retrieved, filling them minutely. The liquid is purplish, floral-scented and fizzy, and the blonde happily plops a few ice cubs into each glass before nudging one Maleficent's way.] You ever partake, Ms. Dark Fae?

[Then she huffs out a laugh, leaning her elbows on the bar and shrugging.] Yeah, I mean...left my pack when I was seventeen and haven't been back. Werewolves are few'n far between, so I haven't met any others in all that time. Just other humans. [For better or worse, judging by her suddenly sour expression, which she masks by sipping at her glass, much more conservatively this time.] And I run my own place -- my own bar, I mean -- back home, and I sure haven't sniffed out any other non-humans there. Then again, most smells get muddied when you've got a lot of drunk bodies smushed in one little spot.

[Another sip, then she asks, pointedly:] Why, you don't spend time around them?

[medeiun]

[ Have another eyebrow lift at that hiccup — something almost amused leaking through that stony expression of hers. From here, the scent is at least better than what that man was offering — it almost smells of flowers. She stares down at the glass that's coaxed her way; funnily enough, it reminds her of the way magic can look, the colour of it. ]

No. [ Is her simple, non-conversationalist answer for the moment, though she's looking back up at the woman, listening to what she says next. That... is a bit familiar to her. Though she'd grown up around other faefolk, Maleficent had not been exposed to any of her particular kind in those years. She's silent as she listens, almost thoughtful. After a moment, she reaches for the glass, drawing it up closer to her face as though to examine it. ]

...Only one. [ She admits, gazing still into the purple liquid of the drink, watching the ice slowly shift around with a clink. ] One human. And she was... raised away from them, so she is not very humanlike at all. Fortunately.

[ Aurora, who was kept from her own kind, who grew up amongst flowers and earth, who never learned to fear things not from the human world. Who never looked to Maleficent with terror. ]

Do you have to conceal yourself... your other self, from the humans? Surely they would hunt you if they saw it? [ Perhaps humans where this woman is from are... different. Perhaps not. Maleficent's eyes spark with curiosity, the purple from the glass reflected in them. ]

[queenking]

[Saxsice is about to tease more about not partaking (then what do you DO all day??) when Maleficent picks up the glass and tilts it back and forth. That's a step beyond sitting stiffly and like she's rather be anywhere else, so the blonde decides to take it as a win. Behind the bar, her toes tap a couple times in a fidgety, triumphant sort-of-dance.

Outwardly, she maintains her sage bartender face, nodding seriously and sipping at her own floral beverage.] One special chosen person who you don't wanna strangle. Gotcha. Well, that's better than no people. Bein' all alone gets real lonesome. [There we go, sage bartender advice. Aren't you lucky, Maleficent?

The question has Saxsice shifting minutely, perhaps in discomfort. Either way, she averts her gaze, looking down into her own glass and not seeming to notice as a few more golden curls snake their way loose from her updo.] Mostly, yeah. It's second-nature by now. I'm probably more human than wolf. [She laughs, a humorless sound, mutters mostly to the melting ice:] Momma'd be so pissed.