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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.
no subject
[ Nate's pretty sure he couldn't keep a sip of water down, let alone a proper drink. Facing down a militia of ruthless mercenaries, sure; a hoard of juiced up Shambhala guardians? No problem. But explaining the truth (again) to his wife? Christ, his stomach feels like it's trying to crawl up his throat.
So, he's just going to wait while Elena fetches her drink, the playful jazz in the background gone woefully ignored (and, actually, kind of insulting to his current mood) before he guides them away from the dancing and partying to an alcove just outside the ballroom doors. It's quieter here and a lot more private, better for conversation — or the inevitable stashing of his body when Elena kills him. ]
no subject
You were saying?
[ About his so-called brother. The nonexistent Malaysia job. Libertalia. Avery’s treasure. ]
no subject
[ In the absence of a face-scrubbing, Nate opts to rub the back of his neck instead, reminding himself what he'd said to her once — not even all that long ago, really, but with everything that had happened then and all of the wild and crazy things happening now ... it kinda feels like another lifetime ago. But he can start again, he can explain it better, he can —
He can try not to panic. This is Elena. One of less than a handful of people who had been there with and for him through the best and worst points of his adult life.
Christ, he really screwed it up, didn't he? ]
Where do I even start? [ Back at the motel, right? It feels like the most logical place to start from, when the alternative is to start from the very beginning — and he isn't even sure how to broach that yet. Him and Sam and their lives together, when it'd really been the two of them against the rest of the world. ] That guy you didn't ... actually get to meet? His name's Sam. Sam Drake. [ He exhales. ] And for fifteen years, I thought he was dead. I thought he'd died in a Panamanian prison.
no subject
Right. A brother. [ A scoff. ] Who just so happened to be conveniently out of the picture the entire time we’ve known each other. Who just so happens to conveniently show up now. A brother you thought was dead.
Well, Nate, that’s great for you, I suppose. Two brothers reunited. Congratulations. You two clearly have so much to catch up on.
[ Does she sound sarcastic, bitter? Yeah, she still has good reason. And right now Elena chugs back two long sips of her drink while hating on the tightness that squeezes at her chest and makes it hard to swallow down her drink. Hates that her eyes are beginning to sting, yet she’s grateful for the mask, for the partial darkness they’ve moved themselves to.
Hates him for how she’s feeling right in this moment. ]
I don’t— Nathan, I don’t get you. You lied about him. You lied about where you were going, why you were doing what you were doing. To me.
I thought we were done with that.
no subject
[ Nate had always been an expert at running, and running away. This was just one more thing he'd decided to run from. It was a secret he'd carried with him, along with some of the reasons he'd been so desperate to uncover Drake's legacy. It was a part of everything that made him him for more than a decade, and it was a secret he'd kept, even from Elena. Especially from Elena. ]
And it's not about the two of us catching up. He's in trouble, big trouble, and I've gotta — I have to save him. I wanted to tell you, I did. But — how could I?
no subject
Otherwise, what’s the point in taking vows if you’re just going to go and break them? Again. At this point— at this point I might as well give you back your ring, clearly you’re a one-man show.
[ Elena sets her drink down on the flat railing and goes to begin pulling at her gloves, intent on taking the damn band off. ]
No, actually, you know what? You can give it to Victor. I’m sure he’d love that.
no subject
[ Nate's voice is quiet, pleading. He steps forward, intent on reaching out to put his hands over hers, to keep her from doing the thing that could make his own heart stop. It's true that this isn't ... the first time he'd done something so profoundly idiotic before, had left their first attempt at marriage an unhappy and estranged one — but it's different this time. It really, really is. (Isn't it?) And watching her tug at the glove of her left hand makes his blood suddenly run cold, icy shards like barbs in his chest.
She can't—
But just before he could reach out, he stops himself and remains rooted to the spot instead. It's like he'd told Sam on that boat: maybe he really had done this to her one too many times, and after all was said and done the guilt remained, heavy and sour in his gut. He didn't really have a right to tell her to stop. ]
I was just — I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you. [ And ... maybe himself. ] The guy who broke Sam out of prison is dangerous, and he wants a lot of money. The only way we could pay off that debt is with Henry Avery's treasure. I couldn't get you involved in all that.
no subject
No. [ The glove is then tossed down at his feet before she furiously points a finger at him. ] No, that’s bullshit and you know it. It’s nothing but an excuse. Oh, this guy is “dangerous”? What, did you just end up completely forgetting about Lazarevic? He was fucking dangerous.
I highly doubt anyone can compare to Zoran Lazarevic. No– [ breaking off to bark out a disbelieving laugh, and that’s when the other glove is tugged off and dropped between them, ] —you’re being a coward. You know that, right?
There are plenty of other ways you could’ve helped this brother of yours. We both have connections. Contacts. But you just... went and did what you know how to do best. I guess.
no subject
[ She has a point. Well, no. She has several points, of course she does, she's Elena Freakin' Fisher.
He exhales.
That day on the dock when Sam came to him with his ask, with his crappy little black and white print-out of a second St Dismas' cross, it hadn't been 'Nathan Drake — Salvager and Regular Guy' who had come to call when Sam asked for his help (I don't trust anybody else you got on that phone with my life, okay?), it'd been Nathan Drake, one half of a delinquent duo who couldn't believe his older brother, a guy he looked up to, a guy who raised him and taught him pretty much everything he knew now, had been alive and stuck in prison for the fifteen years it took for him to forget he existed.
With Lazarevic it'd been different. Even when things were out of control, Nate felt (mostly) in control of his own life. Chloe and Elena were as safe as they could be, making their way out of Shambhala, and it was his prerogative to stop Lazarevic at whatever cost; it hadn't been so ... personal. That final confrontation could have happened between Lazarevic and somebody else — any other treasure hunter. Hell, if Nate and Harry hadn't been at odds with each other, it could have been him.
Nate felt the personal responsibility for Sam's fate all those years ago, had desperately clung to his older brother's hand and let him slip at the last second. He had a literal hand in him being stuck in that place, all of his leads and inquiries shortly after he and Rafe escaped falling to deaf ears and dead ends. Every conclusion was finished with the final blow of 'Samuel Drake died of a gunshot wound in a Panamanian jail' — and that was on him. It was his fault.
So much of their youth was spent looking for Henry Avery's treasure, of bribing their way into the penitentiary and hunting for clues ... and maybe the call of getting that one thing back for them, for what he'd done to Sam, was too tempting. Maybe the treasure itself was like closure, and he needed it at all costs. Maybe he just wanted to make it up to his brother for letting him down — but in doing so, he'd let Elena down. And Christ, she didn't deserve that. Of course not. Not after everything they'd been through together.
He lifts a hand to absent-mindedly rub at his face, letting out another breath, and accidentally swipes a hand at the mask over his eyes. It slips off with ease, clattering to the ground to join Elena's gloves. He isn't sure at what point it had come loose. ]
a wise lesson
She works her jaw, quiet, looking up at him again. What else could he possibly have to say? More excuses? More lies?
Without the glove covering her hand she can turn her ring around her finger with her thumb, an unconscious gesture. Almost as though she's weighing unspoken options in her mind while the silence drags on between them, the laughter and cheer and music from inside drifting out every so often. ]
If you were going to say something, let's have it.
sometimes my excitement is too extra
Probably not well.
At least now he can properly run a hand across his face, partly in frustration at himself, and partly in fear, because he isn't even sure what he wants to say. He isn't sure what he can say to fix this, to make everything okay again, and that's really all he wants right now.
Eventually, all he can do is glance away from her, away from the twist of her wedding band, at the gloves and his mask on the ground between their feet.
No, for the first time he's really out of words. ]
sometimes being too extra can be a good thing though
Elena steps forward. That poor drink is left on the railing, ignored, forgotten. ]
So that's it? That's all you had to say. [ Another two steps closer, her heel crushing delicate silk beneath it against the concrete. ] You took vows, Nathan, the same vows as I did. I would never do this to you. Ever. Since when did lying become a thing in our marriage?
I just wish you would've let me help you.
glad u think so c': anywaaaay steals some game dialogue bc that's how i roll
[ His expression is helpless, floundering. And like the motel back in Madagascar, that flood of guilt and shame fills his chest now too, reminds him that even after they'd had that fight, had this same fight ... he still left with Sam anyway. He'd pushed Elena away, told Sully off, and he'd hopped on a boat to Libertalia.
Afraid that he'd already done so much damage, knowing there was no negotiating saving his brother, he'd made the choice to go ahead without her.
Would he do the same thing here? ]
You're right. [ He breathes out through his nose. ] I'd made a promise to you, and I broke it and I couldn't face it. I just — I couldn't tell you because ... I was afraid.
IT'S WHAT WE DO
What could you have possibly been so afraid of? I hardly put the fear of God in you. So then — what?
no subject
I was afraid of losing you.
[ He knows he deserves whatever mirth he's got coming his way, and he'd be lucky that Elena sticks around here for as long as she has before it's all over. And then what? What'll he do?
(Christ, he doesn't even want to consider what he might or might not do.)
He feels the panic shudder cold in his veins, and he swallows it down even when his expression probably reveals at least some part of the anguish he's currently feeling. It's his fault, and he knows it, and that's what makes this whole goddamned thing even worse. ]
I knew doing this — if I'd told you I was going back to that life, I would lose you. [ Eventually the words tumble out of his mouth, unwarranted, triggered by the adrenaline of his own fear. ] I wasn't protecting you, I was — I was protecting myself.
went back to their Couch Scene ;_; north & rose are so good as VAs
goodold days, opening the door and stepping further inside to see it all with her own eyes.A step shuffles back, the scraping of her heel quiet on the concrete. ]
And did you happen to stop and think about what would happen if you didn't tell me? I don't — Nate, each time I kept encouraging you to take the Malaysia job, you kept on refusing. You could've done it with Sullivan, I kept insisting — you did it anyway.
I'm just... [ the sigh she lets out is tired. She is so tired. ] Where do we stand, right now? You lied about what was going on, to "protect yourself", because you had some assumption that if you told me the truth then you would lose me. Now? You don't think you're going to lose me now?
yeAH i love them so much ;; they really bring nate and elena to life; anyway sorry for this
[ Well, sure, he knows how ridiculous it sounds, he knows how stupid he’s being — how stupid he's been. But filled with the guilt of having to weigh his options between a life-long debt owed to his estranged and formerly dead older and the completely separate life he'd found for himself in the normalcy of what he'd chosen with Elena, not for the first time Nate hadn't thought the whole thing through, didn't think that one thing didn't actually have to be mutually exclusive from the other. He panicked.
Of course it would take some explaining. Hell, a lot of explaining. And somehow it seemed so much easier to put everything with Sam attached to it in a locked box that firmly belonged in his past. Elena didn't know about any of it, and maybe she didn't have to. To revisit all of that history with her ... Christ, it was easier at that moment to assume he could 'deal with it' quickly (and to be fair, he'd really thought that the job would take a couple weeks, something he could keep in that same locked box and no one would have to know; he'd been so profoundly stupid) and then figure out the right way to introduce his brother to her. You know: 'hi honey, so a funny thing happened ... anyway, meet my long-lost older brother Sam.'
But things have a way of never going the way you want them to, right, and now he's here— worlds away from home, at a masquerade ball in the 1920s having the inevitable conversation he'd been trying to avoid all along.
His heart sinks now, however, hearing those words, landing somewhere in his stomach like an iron stone.
You don't think you're going to lose me now? ]
I screwed up. You deserve the truth — late as it is. [ And he hates that it's really only because he’d been cornered into it. God, she really did deserve better.
Is he going to lose her now? Well, it's up to her, isn't it? ] I'm sorry.
no you're not
Yeah. You screwed up. And — yeah. You're sorry. [ A soft snort under her breath. ] But that's always how it goes—you screw up, you apologize. Rinse and repeat.
[ Another drink is needed. That or she needs to find another area where she can be alone. Already she's beginning to move past him for the doorway. ]
I'm tired, Nate. I'm just... I'm tired.
(... guilty as charged) — fin ;
He doesn't stop her from bending down to pick up her gloves, for brushing off his apologies whether he'd meant them or not (he did, of course, mean them but he understands how empty they feel), for moving past him and not once looking back. She's angry and she has every right to be. He'd fucked up. And now, honestly, he's run out of words. The explanations and excuses (and frankly, the lies) feel less and less like they're doing him any favours and may do more harm than good.
Logically, Nate understands what they both need is a little space, loathe as he is to admit it. (Scared as he is to admit it.) While everything in him is screaming to call back out to Elena, to cling to her and never let go, he stays rooted to his spot until he can't make out the sound of her heels against stone anymore. He has to quell the thought that her leaving him now, in this room, at this party, means she'll leave him forever too.
His mask is off now, his confession made, his secret uncovered, and he leaves it on the surface edge of a large pilaster.
Another breath and then he, too, makes his way out of the building, wanders into the city. He's never been much for parties anyway. ]