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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
She fears not returning home, to her daughter. And if the powers here choose to turn against them, or show some dark true goal? She could be destroyed. Or trapped here forever. That is what she fears.
It makes her... oddly torn. He's right; examining the thing more closely may be the only way to understand more about it, ironically. But she's reluctant, her nerves showing themselves a bit more openly now: nostrils flaring, wings restlessly shifting, eyes just a little wide. ]
I agree. ...On both counts. [ It's a frustrating paradox, isn't it? Not a bright idea to get closer, yet having to get closer to figure out more. ]
...But of the curses with which I am familiar, a thing requires touch to truly activate. So perhaps.... [ She finds herself faltering a little in favour of perhaps drawing closer. She doesn't want to, is fighting it within herself, and after a moment gives a rough sigh. ]
....Perhaps we could examine it with our eyes alone. From a distance still, but... closer.
no subject
Which is not to say the unknown doesn't frighten him just as much - just that he's quite a bit more accustomed to its constant, looming presence than most. (He's also used to the known, even more ugly and ever-present. But at least there's none of that, here.) It makes it easier for him to put on an exaggerated approximation of uncertainty, to mask himself in playful cowardice, as he cuts his gaze toward the stage again. Pretending not to feel anything beyond what he pretends. ]
Well. Ladies first?
[ He gestures down that long, declining aisle, though he's no more eager to see her try to approach what they seem to have found consensus on as definitely a trap. ]
apologies for the slow!! If you prefer to let this go, no worries at all!
Maleficent purses her lips again before she moves forwards with her slow, sweeping gait. Despite her nerves, she keeps her head held slightly back, eyes sharp and cut to the stage as she approaches. Very slowly, she'll make her way to it, to allow any possible oddities to make themselves known to her senses. When she detects nothing, she chances moving even closer, stepping up alongside the stage side and onto it. It's cool beneath her bare feet, and empty-feeling, and she stands there for a long moment, waiting for him to join her. ]
A mask. [ She can see it up close now, and though she still can sense nothing offensive about it, the implication chills her slightly. ]
I.... do not feel that it is cursed, though it still may be. Surely, it is not simply a mask.
i'm fine with slow! but if you'd rather move on, no worries (✿´‿`)
He hoists himself up onto the stage without bothering to walk around, ignoring the stairs and straightening out his drab robes as he stands. ]
This is the part where one of us suggests trying it on, isn't it? I'm good with not doing that, just for the record.
I'm absolutely down to continue!
Her frustration grows with the uncertainty. With not being able to sense anything outwardly threatening about the thing — that makes it all the more insidious. What is it hiding? What will it do?
Theoretically, she deserves to be the one to reach out and touch it. A hand extended, finger ready to be pricked— ]
—The question is, would the punishment for not obeying be worse than whatever will come of touching it?
[ She's thinking aloud, sharing this process with him despite everything, for he is her sole companion in this frustrating game. And she has no doubts that this is truly a game, that certain rules have been established by what ancient things have brought them here. To deny them, to refuse to play.... they may very well be punished for it.
She gazes pointedly at him to see what he thinks of that, unsure still what to make of him. ]
no subject
It's the pointed stare he likes less, shirking away from the obligation to answer, and answer honestly, as he steps around the table the other way, circling to the side. His gaze also skitters off, as if there's some other sight to be seen, here, some other choice in this game than to play.
Of course, there is one, and one he would seize on gladly - if it didn't mean maybe dragging her along with him. Friendly she may not be, but she hasn't wronged him, and he's well accustomed to dealing with prickly types, anyway. She doesn't deserve to sort his bad luck, too. ]
Is there a punishment worse than obeying?
[ His whole demeanor continues to hedge away from the honesty in his response, but he can't really mask it in his tone. ]
I don't know about you, but I'm not anybody's pet experiment. If they want to torment me, they can do the work themselves.
[ Some of the wind goes out of his sails, then, and with the obvious conundrum at hand to present, he glances back toward her, hands at his sides in a weak approximation of a shrug. ]
...But, uh, that's not exactly a choice I can make for both of us. If you think you have to do it, then I'm not going to try and stop you.
no subject
....She seriously considers it, whether he meant for her to or it was something meant for himself, a means to talk through the frustration of it all. That he considers it the worst punishment is.... telling. He won't be leashed. Perhaps he has been before, to know to have such distaste for it. And she realises then, what punishment, for her, would be worse than obedience. Once, she might have said that to lose her flight, her freedom — as she had those years ago. Now, there is a different ache that presses up against her sternum. ]
To remain apart from my daughter. [ And it's something personal, something Maleficent would ordinarily not share with a stranger, but perhaps she too needs to talk through some of this aloud. For she's torn — whether to fight, whether to obey; she can't risk whichever choice may ensure that she never be returned to Aurora.
And like always, the subject is a balm to her own temper and anger. Gone is the flash of warning not to touch what rests upon that stage; Maleficent now stares at it — still wary, but humbled, in some sense, by what his question has opened in her. There are things about this place she will not relent to, but here and now, trapped in this cage, she thinks she must do what it takes to get out. Even if that means appeasing their unseen hosts. ]
I will see what they wish for us to see. [ And she reaches her hand out, slender fingers hesitating before they brush the mask. She means to put it on — that seems the purpose of it, after all — but a mere touch alone is enough to make whatever spell is upon the item activate. It only takes a few seconds, and then she's looking at the man, but seeing someone else. ]
....Stefan?
[ It's only due to knowing he's dead that she doesn't immediately react with rage — at first, it's merely disbelief, eyes widening. But she can't hide the flicker there in them, something wounded at first, then sharp. ]
no subject
All right.
[ It's a reasonable answer. Understandable, even if he'll never truly be able to understand.
Still, he takes a half step back, when she finally reaches for that mask, and whatever curse or enchantment is lain over it. But... Nothing seems to happen. He's so primed for it, he almost startles when she looks back up at him again - whipping around briefly to glance over his shoulder, scanning the rest of the theater for whoever it is she's addressing, now. Empty. ]
Ah, no. Still just Anders.