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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! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
arrival
You know what probably won't help is yet another new voice, almost directly in his ear. ]
Did I forget to put 'scream into the ether' on my calendar again? Man, I hate it when I do that. Unscheduled screaming just doesn't scratch the same itch.
[ The voice comes at ear height, but if the boy looks over, he won't see anyone standing next to him. This is because Dick is hanging upside down from the ceiling like a — well, like a bat. He's suspended from a thin jumpline, one ankle wrapped securely around it and gloved hands holding on. A thick, soft black beard covers his mouth and jaw and a blue domino mask covers his eyes, but his smile still shines out like a high beam headlight. ]
I'll try to remember for next time.
[ He lifts — lowers? — a hand in a friendly wave, smiling easily. ]
Hi. I'm Nightwing. People screaming is kind of like my 'ring if you need service' bell, so... how's it going?
no subject
Speech leaves him in his shock. He's all raw nerves, like skin peeled back with no chance to heal. It's been that way for— a long, long time. And now... The smallest thing sets him off, again and again and again.
He flinches back, caught up in his own fear, head jerking to the other side to stare at.... it takes his strange muddled mind a few beats too long to really make sense of what he's seeing. A man, masked and hanging upside down.
The younger makes a sort of sound in the back of his throat, eyelids fluttering. He won't pass out, probably, but he does sort of sway on the spot. ]
Um. [ This isn't the wildest thing he's seen, there was a fair share of that back in the City, and then back home... well. Peter shudders again, staring at the man like the guy's a monstrously large spider coming down a web, about to bite his head off. ]
I don't know what's happening.
[ The words, the soft and vulnerable tone, likely sound far too young to be coming from a young man in his late teens; Peter's childlike in his fear. ]
no subject
[ Dick descends from the jumpline with a smooth, graceful motion: he detaches the line with the flick of a wrist and pushes himself into a fluid somersault, landing lightly with easy balance in front of the younger man. Even now, years after his last circus, there's something flashy in the way he moves; an air of showmanship. He cuts through the air with the playful efficiency of a dolphin in water.
Now standing the right way up and in front of this newcomer, he can get a good look at the kid: maybe ten or so years younger than Dick himself — Tim's age, maybe. Everything about him right now is uncertain and terrified, curling into himself like an anxious snail.
Dick lets his shoulders and smile soften, threads a friendly pitch through his voice. Soothing scared children has been a part of his skillset for a long time.
(This kid's probably too old for Dick to cheer him up with juggling or cheesy magic tricks, but... well, he'll keep that option in his back pocket. For now.) ]
Let's take it one thing at a time, starting with stuff you do know. What's your name?
no subject
He watches the man flip back into standing position, moving as smoothly as though gravity itself wasn't much of an issue. It is decidedly impressive, and if Peter weren't so close to Panic Mode, he'd be able to appreciate that more. (There's some faint memory of visiting a circus once, when he was younger. Dogs doing tricks and men and women flying through the air. His family stopped doing things like that a long time ago.)
He continues ogling this enigmatic stranger — Nightwing, he called himself — and manages to breathe as well as he can against the frantic pattering of his own heart, a small scared animal trapped in his chest. Something up under his skin presses too tight, a pair of eyes (or too many of them) open so wide.
What's your name?
It's such a simple question, but— for too long of a moment, perhaps because being brought to this place has shuffled around all of the lost things inside of himself, he doesn't know how to answer. It isn't the first time he's forgotten this. Sometimes it's every day. His mouth parts, eyes staring at the man, locked onto something alive and solid.
There are too many names trapped inside of this body that looks like a young man, and some are words he can't identify or make sense of. Some are feelings instead — the prickling wind of the Northwest at the back of his neck, a deep, raw, creaking sound coming from an open throat. Too many instruments playing, discordant, so loud it hurts. (The soft, gentle whisper of a child, a little girl.) My name's Charlie, he almost says, but... that's not right, is it? ]
Um— [ He's confused, lost, stricken. It takes a few odd moments of silence ticking by, things having to settle. Finally they do, enough that he's able to grasp onto it, but he's still not fully sure— ] ...Peter, I think.
[ His hands are fitful at his sides, fingers rubbing nervously against the material of his hoodie. ]
Do you... You live here?
no subject
He hasn't heard of anyone showing up with Aurora-related amnesia, but that doesn't mean it's not something to look out for.
But he asked the question, and he'll give the guy some time to work through his answer; he waits patiently, with no indication he'll do anything but continue to wait patiently. He's always been on a more even keel than... well, most of his family members.
Finally, the kid answers — sounding unsure of himself, yeah, but he answers, and Dick grins at him in response. He clocks that anxious fiddle of fingers against fabric and doesn't hold out his hand to shake, instead giving Peter as much space as he needs. ]
Hey, Peter. Nice to meet you, man.
[ This kid looks like he's in desperate need of a friend. Dick can be that for him, for now, for however long he needs in order to feel confident enough to move forward. ]
Here in the tunnel? No. But I've been here in this place, Etraya, for a while now.
[ He frowns; not at Peter, but at the ceiling of the tunnel itself. ]
Usually, when people get brought in, they wake up in a hospital. That didn't happen to you?
no subject
....But this isn't a wide, hungry split in the face of a predator. This is just— a grin. A simple and brief gesture. Means someone's happy about something, or maybe relieved. Maybe means he said something that someone else approved of, however small, however dumb. All it takes is someone smiling at him in a way that's even remotely kind, and Peter feels his breathing strain a little bit less.
The easy-going demeanour helps, too. Peter absorbs everything around him, sensitive to every tone and volume and nuance. Maybe he's not in danger around someone who flashes him a grin and calls him "man" loose and easy, like he and his friends did back home. ]
No, there wasn't any hospital. [ His head gives the ghost of a shake, and his eyes sweep sideways for a moment, peering down the line of the tunnel, but it curves and he can't see what's beyond it. ]
....Etraya? [ His mind buzzes again, that odd static flickering brighter. Names are important things to such an ancient and powerful thing. It reacts excitedly, aware, so much energy that can't express itself fully. Peter's eyes suddenly shimmer as though with a gloss of tears; it hurts, a little. ]
You're not from The City?