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etrayamemes2025-01-02 03:19 pm
etrayamods) wrote in etrayamemes2025-01-02 03:19 pm
TDM 006
 ⏵ arrival ⏴ Arrival is absolutely not normal this month. Instead of a hospital bed, you wake in a tunnel with a large group of other people. These are the residents. A woman’s voice in an earpiece hurriedly clues you in with an apology. I apologize; I had not planned to introduce you this way, but we are low on time. Please proceed down the hallway. For everyone else, coming in is much the same. The instruction goes out to head to designated areas immediately, where companion bots will escort the residents of Etraya down into the depths, the area beneath where much the same is explained.  ⏵ disrobing ⏴ The tunnel eventually opens directly into the foreroom of an expansive library, painted in marvelous hues and patterns with skylights far above. There are wizards milling about, bearded and holding tomes, quietly chatting amongst themselves. The reception area of the library has tall ceilings with equally tall doors Before you get too caught up in the scenery, a voice directs you forward. A gentleman, hunched and bespeckled craws out. "Make a line! Make a line, everyone! You cannot enter the library dressed as you are... Come forward and give me your name." The receptionist asks your given name and then hands over a box from underneath his counter. You can give him any name you want, he doesn’t seem to mind. It is tied with a tagged ribbon- labeling it accordingly. “The _____ robe of _______.”
As you read what the contents of the box may be, they form inside- Looking and behaving as your character expects them to. After all, magic is all in the wielder’s mind. Don your robes and enter the library.  ⏵ unfamiliar familiars ⏴ For those without a familiar (like one hatched from an egg not too long ago) you may borrow one from the library counter. They all have strengths and weaknesses, but they will all assist in the very important mission. As you roam the library, they will make little indications that you are closer or further from finding a piece of the pearl.
 ⏵ the task at hand ⏴ With robes donned and creature in hand, you must now complete your mission. Find the pieces of the shattered pearl. As you enter the library, you may notice that it’s all very dim. There’s oil lamps around the place that may be moved with you to assist in your journey if your robes do not already emit light. Break off and search the library. There is a directory at the front to point guests to all the different sections.
Each section looks enough like the last, though the books within have immense power. Pick up the wrong book, and you might conjure a dragon or a historical figure! You must persist and avoid making too much noise or breaking too many things. Or else the Librarian, a tall mass of knotted fabric will confiscate your robe and usher you back outside. Your name will be struck from the list, and you must pick a new one to re-enter the library to continue the search. You can try to fight back against him- he may be set alight with the lamp. But should you be starting fires in here? Any thread with 15 comments between you and another may be submitted to find a piece of the pearl. There are 20 pieces altogether, and we will determine if the mission was successful by March 28th. A post will go live on the OOC comm for this! This mission occurs out of time, similar to how the spaceship had. Meaning, those currently in game can experience these events any time between now, and March 14th. Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
the task at hand } that name the under-lying dead
The setting is tragic, given how much she might otherwise fall in love with a library where magic flourishes.
The look suits her, as much as anything can when she is more gaunt than ever before, but the Anxious Robe of Melodies lives up to its name. There's a billow to the fabric as though it suffers the occasional shiver, especially when the hum shifts in theme. As she further drifts, it changes to a haunting tune, one from childhood. She hasn't hummed it since her time in the City. It's a sick nostalgia that only further closes her throat and deadens her gaze. Vanessa knows better than to be trapped by such a thing.
The cat has disappeared amongst the shelves, but she continues on, as the eerie song seems to quiet more with each slow step. She's being pulled towards something familiar. ]
no subject
In truth, what hums quietly is something he would have felt no matter what. He doesn't need the added effects of this beautiful space, the crackling presence of magic amplifying what's so sensitive inside of him; he'd feel her regardless.
But all of it does overwhelm him, and as Peter moves towards that feeling — a bit stranger than before, more than before, different in ways, more... oppressive — he's half-lidded as though in a daze. His footsteps are a slow shuffle, body held awkwardly, as though its inhabitant doesn't quite fit into the spaces beneath its skin. Behind his own dark eyes, something glitters, something more alive here in this place than it's been able to be for a very long time. It feels her, knows her, wants her, and—
—and there she is. For Peter (and the other thing), it's been barely a day or two since he last saw Vanessa Ives. But here, she's... different, worn, perhaps ill, exhausted. He stands there at the end of a row of old books, staring down it at her. The song she hums feels ghost-like, and she could be a ghost, for how faded she seems to be.
His eyes clear slightly as Peter finds his own thoughts again (however briefly that might last, with so much calling to the other, drawing it out), his worry for her appearance outmatched only by his desperation to be with her, to find a familiar face in this unfamiliar place. And not just any face, but hers. He trusts her more than anyone. ]
Vanessa?
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Her limitations are fewer here, and in some ways she wields more potential than ever before, but she has yet to escape her demons. If anything, they have only drawn her deeper into the abyss, to embrace the pain she had once helped spread like pestilence.
The hum all but silences when she sees him properly, and stares with tired eyes as the familiar connection pulls at her other self. The mother is entangled with something else now, both primeval yet young...but she still carries a love only for Peter and his demon. One cannot be without the other, not anymore, and so she covets them both. She has hurt others for his sake, and suffered for it, and she would do it a thousand times more if she could only protect him.
She didn't think she would ever again get the chance.
And yet...how is this possible? She might mistake Peter for another one of her conjurations if not for how clearly she can sense his presence.
The sound of her name from a voice she thought she would never hear again, is enough to startle Vanessa from her own daze. The nearby lamps flicker as her shadow embraces him only moments before the rest of her catches up, and though her small body is frailer than ever, there is a fierceness to her hold that she had thought was gone with the loss of both soul and heart. ]
How I have missed you, my dear Peter.
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And so is she. Both of them can feel it. She's swirling darkness, a storm, an abyss; inky-black wet things, and the skitter of too many legs. Paimon, too, is too many things — a cacophony, too bright, too loud, but there's something still caught up in it, something soft and lost in its own identity, twisted up into too many. It's impossible to untangle so many threads. She should make it worse, the sheer presence of her, but she doesn't. The demon king and the boy alike look to her and feel a tether, anchored, secure. All of it could be so dangerous. Peter's closing his eyes with a soft exhale as she reaches him, embraces him, and doesn't have to think for a second about returning the gesture.
She feels small and frail against him, but her presence is anything but. He feels small against her instead, like a child held, like there's enough space for him against her to feel comforted, secure, protected.
(Something's wrong, though. The way she looks — and her words. How I have missed you.) Worry ripples through him and elicits a shudder, but it's amplified by the other thing stirring too, and his breath comes out cold. The demon is raw energy, fierce in its loyalty to her, a contrast to Peter's gentleness. It swells up inside of him, wanting to be closer to her, closer. To seep past skin and muscle and bone and find her spirit, and the thing there inside of her. ]
Are you okay? [ Peter manages to ask, voice shaking, afraid of the answer. Something isn't. It's much like how she was once before, and it frightens him to see her this way again. ]
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She'd had them both in the City, so why not here? Is it only one or the other?
Were they not in a public space, Vanessa might not have the strength to stifle back the flood of emotion, and for that alone she is glad for the presence of others. She knows Peter, how overwhelmed he must already feel, and she would be loathe to drown him through his own empathy. ]
I am now.
[ Her sigh is soft with her whisper as she steps back, only enough so that she can properly look up and cup his face, as though needing to assure herself of just how real he is. Thin fingertips trace beneath his eyes with her skin appearing ashen against his, and she realizes how she must look. If not for the persistence of another teenage boy who had once hoped to trust her, Vanessa might be even worse off.
She does not feign a smile, but the bitter angst has softened to something more devoted as she gazes into his eyes—through and behind them, where the light can't reach.
He doesn't realize how long it's been. Does he understand that this is no longer the City, or does he assume this to be a new iteration? ]
And you? Are you...
[ Tipping her chin, she glances him over in the dim lamplight, and her whisper wavers with a tremor of fear for his sake. Did he return to his mother? Had he experienced further pain? ]
Where have you been?
no subject
He stares, not understanding the state of her, confused and afraid and searching her eyes just as much back, even if his own are held wide and wet. He feels himself, as always, becoming so vulnerable around Vanessa, like something inside of himself opens up and up and up, welcoming her into the softest parts of himself.
(And the other thing keeps staring, too, seeing her more clearly than it's ever been able to before. Peter's hand at the side of her arm twitches here and there against his control, a gesture he's not really aware of, fingertips giving the softest spasms. Harmless, for now, so alive but not fitful. She cups it in her hands, too.)
Where has he been? The question visibly catches him off-guard, confusion knitting his brow for a moment. But the answer's honest, he thinks she means— for these past few hours, or however long it's been. He so often loses time. ]
Just walking around here, I think.
[ It feels like a confession, a little ashamed; he's aware that he's been moving through this place like he's sleepwalking. ]
After the tunnel, I got a little lost. This place is...... weird.
[ A soft, nervous exhale. The clothes they made him wear are weird, there's a frog in his pocket (it's not a frog, Peter...), he keeps glitching out of his own mind like he's the one who doesn't belong in it, and he doesn't understand what the hell he's meant to be doing. Clearly this is some kind of test they have to complete in order to leave, right? But Vanessa's always been sharp, intelligent and resourceful. She always knows what to do. (Even though something horrible must have happened to her since the last time they spoke. Was it something here? Did something hurt her?) ]
Did you find a way out?
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It takes her a moment longer than it should to piece this puzzle together. When was the last time he thinks to have conversed with her? Not months, no, not with how he looks and speaks. Days? ...Hours?
Seeing Peter like this is both salvation and torment. The months that have passed since their time in the City weigh heavily in her bones—her battles with possession and the crushing isolation that followed have taken their toll. She has both gained and lost so very much. Yet, for Peter, their last conversation seems to remain fresh, with the traumas of the City still recent in his mind.
What of Etraya's own dangers? Should she not count herself amongst them?
Her instinct to protect him wars with the knowledge of all that has happened since she last set eyes upon him. In her grief and anger, in so short a time, she has already endangered everyone else here. The primeval thing within her rose too close to the surface—pulled near free by something else perhaps just as ancient. That danger isn't entirely gone. It will never be. Who is she to pretend otherwise?
Yet, even at her worst, who else could understand him as she does? Who else could see both boy and demon and not turn away? Constantine is perhaps the nearest one Vanessa may trust in attempting to protect the boy, but even that could lead to catastrophe without Vanessa's guardianship, especially now that their magical abilities are not so stifled.
Even now diminished by her own shades, Vanessa remains perhaps his best hope for navigating this realm. Her own suffering might serve a purpose here, if she can use it to shield him from worse fates. ]
Oh, Peter... I—
[ Her hands drop away to hang limp at her sides, with lips pressed pale and thin as she takes a moment to gather her thoughts into words. He deserves to know everything, but this isn't the place for the more morbid details. Her shame can wait. ]
I do not know how, but the passage of time has again been tampered with. I have not seen you in...many months, now. I have...written you so many letters, though I had nowhere to send him.
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Something's wrong again, so much is wrong. Peter frowns as he listens, searching the woman's gray gaze, as she works through some knowledge to transfer it to him.
....Months?
It's not the fact itself that even shocks him, mostly. He'd actually recently talked to someone about it, someone who was asking about people's ages... Peter realised that time was different in The City. It didn't match what he knew back home, like he got sent backwards or forwards in the year, and maybe that meant he was seventeen now, or maybe it was eighteen, or maybe he was just frozen, he still doesn't really know for sure—
No, his mind can somewhat accept that time's gotten skewed. It's.... the other fact, the one that says Vanessa's been living months thinking he's gone. Written him letters. Peter stares, eyes startled and stricken and wounded all at once. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He knows deep down it's not a fault he has any real right to claim, but he is, some awful heavy guilt pooling in. He knows what it's like to be left behind. He knows what it's like to— wonder, to be left wondering and waiting. And— god, what happened to her in all those months? He's freshly frightened for the state of her, swallowing against a rising tightness in his throat, something small and upset. (And more is pressing up under his skin, some protectiveness that's almost violent in its surge, a rush of cacophonous energy that doesn't belong to him; Peter's eyelids flutter oddly and the eyes beneath them loll a bit, his words coming out in a stagger.) ]
You're— Something's— [ Wrong. ] Did someone hurt you?
[ She seems ill more than injured, like the husk of a thing left to neglect, but the demon only knows hurt, knows it too well. Knows both what it is to inflict it — and to receive it. If something was done to her, it won't rest. And in this place, its energy is less confined, less subdued; no longer chained and gagged — at least, beyond the bindings of this human skin — it's suddenly able to rear its head and scream. ]
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Not here, not with so many others nearby who might notice. The two of them can't afford to draw that sort of attention, especially not after her past crimes.
This protective fury will only agitate Peter further, and he's suffered enough without bearing the weight of her trials. The new scar on her back burns with remembrance—Aelwyn's blade, yes, but even that was brought about by Vanessa's own ruination, as was the damage done to her heart through Dream's disappearance.
As he draws closer, she takes his hand in hers, squeezing gently as if to ground him. When she speaks, her voice has regained some measure of strength, if only for Peter's sake. ]
No one has hurt me. Not beyond what I've done to myself.
[ Her thumbs brush over his knuckles in a soothing gesture, trying to calm both boy and demon. ]
We have much to discuss, but perhaps somewhere more private, after we have been freed of this task. For now, know that I am far better for seeing you again.
no subject
No, those hands that had guided him did not do so correctly, but they were still guidance, a link, a bond, and without them... the demon has been ever more lost. There are many reasons it's latched onto Vanessa Ives so fiercely, and one of them is that it needs hands again. It needs stability, structure; if it's here in this realm far away from its home, it needs a conjurer, a magician, a witch. Paimon is meant to work with one, after all, to function through equivalency, through exchange. A partnership. And though she didn't summon him, she calls to him, this powerful woman, her connection to Paimon's master himself, and the ancient things attached to her own core.
Her fingers brush over Peter's knuckles, soothing little gestures, and it helps. His eyes, briefly cloudy and strange and crackling, focus a little more again. Peter is hardly aware that anything strange briefly transpired, that something so dangerous bumped up under the surface of his skin, ready to tear itself out. He sighs quietly, a pent-up exhale released, and nods, always agreeable, and especially for her. ]
Okay. After this— this mission thing.
[ Though his worry doesn't lessen, the demon's anger swapped out for Peter's fear, and the boy worries his lower lip for a moment, leaving it puffed red. 'Not beyond what I've done to myself.' What could that mean? What happened to her? His heart is nervous to the thought, but he trusts her. More to discuss in private, away from everyone here. But he can't help still asking a few things, still stunned by the realisation that Vanessa's been living months after his own disappearance. ]
Has a lot... changed, since I've been gone? This place seems different. I don't remember seeing anything like this before. ...Or magic. [ He adds, almost nervously. This... library, the tomes, the people who seem to work here; this wasn't typical in the City as he knew it. ]