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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! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yeah, well, and I didn’t want you to burn yourself. What if something happened and you couldn’t move your hand — [it makes sense in Hank’s mind, okay] — and you were just stuck, and... fuck.
Guess we can both be pretty stubborn, huh?
[Tapping his fingers against the countertop.]
Thank you, Connor. For thinking of me. [And he almost says “but you don’t have to.” It’s hard to turn off that stubbornness.]
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I know you won’t, Connor.
[He knows Connor isn’t trying to give him a heart attack.
Then, Hank turns to the cupboard. Oddly reminiscent of his dinner with Vincent the other night, but this time, he only pulls out one of each dish.
Which feels rude, but it’s not as if Connor can eat spaghetti, right?]
How're the noodles doing?
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Needs a minute more.
[Connor is mentally timing the texas toast and other elements of the meal.]
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You don’t... eat, right?
[Which sounds like the most ridiculous question, and yet Hank still asks.]
I mean, can you taste? It just feels...
[He looks down at the sauce as he stirs it. Connor had said meatballs, right? To the fridge he goes for meatballs!!]
Feels rude, Connor. [And sure, Hank might say he doesn’t care about that, especially not with most people. But Connor is different.] Feels real rude. Guy goes and makes me a spaghetti-toast-asparagus dinner, and he’s just gotta watch me eat it.
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[And yet Connor is clearly preparing the meal for more than one person. Perhaps leftovers?]
Perhaps you could describe it to me.
[Which would probably be just as weird, but it's the only way Connor could 'eat' the dinner, in a way.]
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Can try that, yeah. [Hank mumbles this. Not at all confident in his ability to describe food that isn’t referencing other food. “This cheese... tastes kind of like this other sort of cheese.” Riveting!
Still, Hank can try. For Connor.
He dumps some of the meatballs into the sauce — maybe too many. Just keeps on stirring the sauce. A little too many meatballs never hurt anyone.
The last time he really had meat was when Vincent came over and made that steak. Why do people keep cooking for him...? Vincent wanted something in exchange, sure. But Connor is just nice.
Hank sighs. He’s never going to feel worthy of... all this.]
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I can continue to stir the sauce if you would like to set the table?
[And he waits for Hank to turn his back before reaching into the oven again. He tries to just grab the texas toast off the rack.]
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Okay. [Nodding thoughtfully.] Yeah.
[He’s got Hank feeling all useful, in the sense that at least Connor won’t have to do this, too.
But it’s just a plate and a fork and a glass, and...? The table still looks kind of naked. Hank doesn’t mind all his food touching, but he turns to grab a second plate, just in case, and —]
Goddamn it, Connor. [Hands!! In the oven again! This time Hank doesn’t rush him to the sink, but his heart still thunders with worry.] I am going to get you some oven mitts, I swear to god.
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I apologize Hank. I forgot them at the store. However, I am being safe by touching only the toast rather than the rack.
[And he quickly grabs the other two pieces, putting all three on a plate together.]
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It’s not your fault I don’t have oven mitts, Connor.
[If Hank had been using the oven at all these past few months, he would’ve had some already. So clearly the blame lies there, he thinks.]
I could’ve got them. But thanks, Connor. [A genuine thank you, albeit meshed with irritation.] Don’t want you hurting yourself just to feed me.
And yeah, yeah — I know. Can deal with more heat than I can. But still.
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I am being safe. [He repeats as he goes back for the asparagus and spaghetti.] I gave you my word.
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It’s not safe to stick your hands in the oven like that, Connor.
[It feels weird to have Connor serving him food, so Hank goes to get another glass of water from the sink. He doesn’t even check the fridge for whatever Connor got, assuming it’s not alcohol.]
But I appreciate you giving me your word, and everything. [He appreciates that Connor is trying. Just needs Hank to tell him to not shove his hands in the oven sometimes.]
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I will get oven mitts tomorrow.
[He goes back for the sauce and meatballs before turning all the heating elements off.]
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I can stop by the store myself, y’know. You don’t gotta get my sorry ass everything. You just...
[Hank returns to the table with his water. It feels so much more awkward knowing Connor can’t eat, can’t even taste, everything he’s making.]
You can hang out with Sumo, yeah? [Who is being a good boy, gnawing on his rawhide by the table.] You just got here. Should be taking it easy.
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I do not need rest like humans do.
[The idea of hanging back with Sumo does have its appeal, though. Or he could go during the night while Hank is asleep.]
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I’m not expecting you to sleep, or anything.
[It feels weird seeing all the food laid out like this. And it’s not even just spaghetti but the Texas toast, and everything.
Hank knows he’s lucky for this, for Connor. So he digs in.]
I mean more like — [waving his fork of asparagus at him] — giving yourself time to enjoy things.
[Which he knows sounds rich, considering where they are. And the stress Hank has been through here — the stress he has, admittedly, put himself through.
If there was one thing that made him happy when he first got here, though, it was seeing Connor live. Hearing that he had friends. A place of his own.]
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I like cooking for you. [Connor replies.] I like Sumo.
[And most important,] I like being family.
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Can’t just go and tell you what to like, Connor. You gotta find that yourself.
[Sumo looks up at Connor from his spot on the floor when he hears his name, but he quickly returns to gnawing on his rawhide.]
Then you can cook for me another time, maybe. [A grumble. His maybe is not at all a maybe — if it makes Connor happy, that’s what matters most.
Hank has a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth when Connor mentions family. He likes that, too — being family. Needs it. Even though the word makes something squeeze inside his chest now. Telling him to avoid that pain.]
Can do family stuff then, too.
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That sounds fun. I think I will enjoy it.
[And perhaps it will help him towards deviancy again.]
How is your meal?
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Good. Seeing as that’s the point. [Hank wonders, though, what exactly Connor might come to enjoy here. Who he might like spending his time with — beyond Hank and Sumo.]
It’s good. [He tries to roll his spaghetti around his fork. All fancy.] Haven’t had a meal like this in... well. Years.
[Clearing his throat, then:] Haven’t really sat down to a meal like this in years, either. With someone else, I mean. It’s...
[A little odd, with Connor not eating. But it’s nice, too. Not something he should let himself get used to, but goddamn does he want that.
It’s having someone here at all that really matters. Someone who wants to be here, for some reason — which Hank understands, but he almost doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to feel like he deserves any of this.]
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[Connor glances over at Sumo.]
Should I walk Sumo while you eat?
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[Connor, out there on Etraya? Hank’ll worry. It’s not as if he himself has run into too much trouble, but Connor’s not that lucky, is he?
And Hank is always going to worry.]
You know what? Yeah. Sure.
[He doesn’t want Connor to stay all cooped up, anyway. Even if he’s only leaving again to do something for Hank.]
But if you get into any trouble, I swear to god — [jabbing his Texas toast in Connor’s direction] — stay safe, remember.
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We will both be safe, Hank.
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[An intrusive sense of unease hits Hank after Connor says that they’ll “both be safe.” As if it’s some weird omen saying the exact opposite is true.
But Hank wants Connor to live. To make friends here, eventually. And he can’t watch over him all the time.
So he meets that small smile with his own as Connor gets Sumo all ready to go. And Sumo, to his credit, is much more excited to go on an adventure with Connor than he usually is with Hank.]
I know you will. Counting on it, Con. And you too, Sumo — [the dog barks a soft “borf” in affirmation] — take care of Connor.
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