lunaecalamitas | thousand dreams, lotus boats upon the waters

thousand dreams, lotus boats upon the waters

NEW MOON ADAGIO

Between the constant requests from the North and the sense of tension that pervades the manor, Sage Tatara makes an executive decision: we're going North, baby.

Of all the things that have happened thus far, let this be the ultimate test of your magic. Even as we near summer, it's frigid. Protect yourselves and your allies from the cold. Protect yourselves while also fighting off monsters (or other territorial wizards, should you make the terrible mistake of wandering into another's territory), flying through the vast wilderness, or protecting the poor humans who need your help to survive. Time to blow off some of your steam. Just be sure to obey Tatara's one rule: don't kill each other.

One particular problem of note is in the Forest of Dreams. Without its guardian, many of these rogue monsters and dangerous predators, displaced from their normal habitats, have found their way into the forest. Many of them, however, are unable to survive against the fatal toxin, and there are plenty of animal corpses and mana stones that litter the forest. It might be best to clean these up before the forest guardian returns...

That said, the toxin is yet another thing you must protect yourself against in addition to the cold. While you can likely keep yourself from dying from the toxins, you may not be immune to its effects. This deadly toxin causes anyone who breathes it in to dream and hallucinate vividly, be it images of the past, imagined futures, thoughts of the present processed and warped...

Strangely enough, those nearby may end up sharing in your dreams... Did you want the darkest recesses of your thoughts, hopes, and fears unearthed for others to see?

Those who decide to venture far past the more populated (in relative terms) parts of the North may find themselves stumbling upon what looks to be an abandoned bandit hideout. It seems it's been abandoned for quite a while—nothing to loot here, sorry!—but there sure are a whole lot of monsters that have decided to make this hidden corner of the North their home.

While you're at it, you may find a nearby cave. Beautiful crystals dot the walls and the floors, and there are small pools of hot spring water free for relaxing. It seems to be relatively free of monsters, too. So maybe this wouldn't be a bad spot to relax, away from everything else?

However, there's one thing that makes this cave truly unique, and it isn't the vistas or the springs—it's the bats. These bats hear echoes of the past and replay them for visitors. Should you stay a while and listen, a bat may pay you a visit. And when it does, it may play for you the voices from the memories of visitors past, whose stories may hold a clue or two to your circumstances...

While the Forest of Dreams is a memory/dreamshare free for all, the aural memories replayed by the bats in the Cave of Time will come from one of the original wizards only. If you'd like an audio replay of a perhaps significant moment either in their personal life or a clue as to what happened to them (it will be randomized), then please reply to this comment!

JOB BOARD

Clean-up and repairs. While thanks to the hard work of your Eastern friends the worst was prevented, the City of Rain emerged from their short ordeal a little worse for wear.

Buildings need repair, blood needs to be cleaned off the streets, the injured need help. This is, perhaps, the only time you will be allowed to use magic openly in the city (you've been given permits and everything!), but you still are not allowed to talk outside of designated zones. Please, please don't get arrested...

As for the scrap that litters the streets? Unfortunately, you'll have to take it back to the scrapyard. But this time, there's a big, roaring bonfire out there. Just chuck all the scrap and debris in the fire. The city isn't taking any second chances—extreme situations call for extreme measures.

Reverence. Several Northern villages are currently outside the protection of a wizard, and have requested the sage's wizards' presence. They're terrified of the monsters and worried the barriers for their villages will fail sooner than later. They don't simply ask for help for free, however, and these smaller villages are steeped in their tradition—they'll pay you their respects, praying to you, offering you gifts, groveling at your feet, in hopes for a modicum of your time and protection. Do their offerings please you? Then assist them with what you deem appropriate for their worship to you: kill a few monsters for them, or a lot if you're pleased. Strengthen the barrier a lot, or not at all if you're displeased. It's up to you! You have the power here. What's it like to be a god for a day?

Ladies' night. The monthly lady officers' gathering is coming up in the City of Affluence—it's an exclusive meetup for the women involved in and related to Western military and bureaucratic affairs. Anyone is welcome, so long as they meet two requirements: they are outwardly presenting feminine, and they have an invitation to the gathering. Here's your chance to flex your transformation and glamour spells! Infiltrate the meetup with a disguise and a fake invitation, mingle, enjoy the drinks, the jazz, the entertainment, and find out what you can... What's the Western army up to? Be careful, though—don't get caught and kicked out!

The attendees seem to be excited about the new phantasmagoria technology and the upcoming display, and many whisper about the upcoming Venator meteor shower...

G'RAHA TASKS

Greetings, new friends! I am G'raha Tia, and while I hesitate to call myself a mentor or a replacement for the one you had, I am eternally grateful for the assistance I received and will do my best to help your cause in any way I can. To that end, I feel I may need to be caught up to speed on the events and get to know all of you.

We can have some tea and sandwiches and have a discussion! That's the best way to learn, sometimes.

TATARA ACTIVITIES

Even if we're not here for very long, I think we should leave our mark (not literally! Don't paint on the walls!). I got paint and big paper in the dining hall, but no brushes... Do you know what that means? Finger paint! Finger paint a portrait of yourself with your name and I'll hang it up in the library when they're all done!

Thanks to Cid and Khun, my camcorder works now. The thing is, what's the point of filming anything if we have no way to watch the film?! Could you guys work together to make some kind of projector? Or like...VHS player? We could have a movie night together!

OOC NOTES

🌙 Welcome to your fourth event! It's your dreamshare and memshare event! Ready to open up with your deepest and darkest secrets?
🌙 We're halfway through the game. How do you feel?
🌙 Back at the manor, Kurapika and Maya have set up a bulletin board! Leave comments, argue with your neighbors, have fun. Be nice. Don't set it on fire.
🌙 On the admin side of things, Lav has swapped out Wanderer for G'raha! Please say hello to your new mentor NPC.
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Remember to keep all wider plotting to the post, and remember to check back frequently, since not everyone checks plurk or discord all the time.
🌙 The next country to go on their mission is North. Do you think a PVP-enabled mission will go well?

» NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Ah. Phil's reaction alone tells him everything he needs to know, so Day is going to try and gently steer this conversation if he's able to. ]

That's what I was told too. [ ... ] But I guess I'm gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way.

[At that, Phil looks up, frowning.]

No, if it's something you wish to try for yourself, don't let my opinions stop you. I may not be willing to eat them, but that doesn't mean I have a right to dictate what anyone else does.

[No matter how uncomfortable with the idea he may be.]

I mean, I've been askin' 'cause I ain't exactly alright with the idea of eatin' dead wizards. [ And he finds himself leaning more towards not wanting to eat any, whenever he thinks about it. ]

...It's just frustratin', and I've got a surprise sack of mana stones sittin' in my room that I dunno what to do with.

[That's reassuring to hear, not that Phil is going to say as much out loud. He knows some of the others here have in fact eaten mana stones; while he tries not to judge, there's a part of him that wonders just how much thought they'd really put into the entire thing.]

Mmm. I understand that feeling, I think. [...] To be honest, I'm frustrated too. I'm so used to having the access to the amount of power I do back at home that coming here felt like starting all over again, and I admit I haven't been taking it anywhere near as well as I should.

[Though he's kept it close to his chest for the most part, the frustration has only been building with how long it's taken him to get his skills with magic here anywhere near what they would be in Tir Na Nog.]

Oh, 'cause you worked to be the biqe, yeah? [ That was the impression Day got. ] What sorts of things are you used to doin'?

Lately it's been more research than anything else, although I did have to teleport a considerable number of people recently.

[And then promptly collapsed, but Day doesn't need to know that part.]

In theory, magic of that caliber should be possible here as well, but... well. As far as I know, none of us are capable of a feat like that yet.

I asked Shortstuff 'bout that too, and he said it's way out of our league as we are right now. Even if it ain't long-range teleportation or anything.

[ He sounds so miffed... ]

[Yeah, he feels that for sure. As taxing an arte as transference is to use, there's no denying how convenient it is.]

I thought as much. Which means our only choice is to try to become stronger...

[This is an awkward conversation to be having when he can't even use his magic at all at the moment. The last thing he wants is for that fact to somehow come to light...]

That's why I asked him 'bout how to get stronger. [ And found out about where mana stones came from and wizards can consume them to become stronger. ]

...So I guess all we can do is keep practicin'. [ Since they're both against the idea of eating mana stones. He crouches down to pick one of the mana stones lying on the ground. ]

... yes, I suppose so.

[He looks down at the stones on the ground, though he doesn't follow suit to pick any up just yet.]

It's strange to think that these were once lives.

[For all that he'd known how the process of creating chiral particles worked, he couldn't ever bring himself to watch it happen-- watch a creature killed in order to be transformed into an energy source. He wonders if the process is similar with mana stones or whether the energy simply condenses and solidifies into that form even as a part of him is horrified for having these thoughts in the first place.]

Or that our own lives might eventually end as that.

Yeah? Can't even show our faces to the people we leave behind.

[ That was one of the first things he thought about when Wanderer explained it to him. ]

And I know it ain't all dead wizards, 'cause magical creatures go the same way too, but... [ They're used for the elevator, and the machines in the West. He doesnt say it out loud, but the way his voice trails off certainly implies it's not a pleasant thought. ] I ain't plannin' on goin' out this way, if I can help it.

Nor am I, but...

[A thought is taking shape in the depths of his mind, darker still than those about the chiral particles. In a way it's a natural consideration with the existing limits on his own lifespan, but there's more to it than just that... it's a thought born from the combined knowledge that currently he is little more than a liability to the others with his inability to use magic, and that his own mana stone would undoubtedly bear great power simply due to his magically-inclined nature.

And he hates himself for having this thought even as he wants to make it known just in case the worst should in fact come to pass.]

If... anything were to happen to me... I would like you to use my mana stone. It should be able to make you much more powerful, so... please. Consider it a last request from me.

Edited 2024-06-10 09:11 (UTC)

[ For a moment, Day blinks, as if he isn't sure he's hearing things right. Surely, Phil didn't just ask him to eat his mana stone if he died, right?

He's not from the Division of Endings, yet it seems that for whatever reason, people see fit to ask him for, oh, mercy kills, and tell him their last requests. Day's heard them more in the past year than he has in the rest of his life. This is probably why he's in the Division of Serenity instead, because he hates it, despises it, and can barely stand the fact that the people who tell him these things expect to die when they shouldn't.

Maybe that is why even though he is doing his best to live by the maxim of smiling at one's troubles, the smile on his face doesn't seem terribly serene at all. ]

Phil, did I hear you right? You givin' me a last request when you're standin' right in front of me?

... you already know that my time is limited either way.

[Hadn't he said as much earlier, even if he hadn't explained the exact cause? Nothing can alter that fact, not here or back in Tir Na Nog. Perhaps he's become blasé in regards to death after having it hanging over his head for as long as he has. Perhaps it's because he honestly doesn't care whether he lives or dies. Or, in all honesty, perhaps it's because a certain part of him wants to die that this seems like a perfectly logical request to make.]

At least allow me to make myself useful if it happens here.

[Because at this point, that's really all that he can do.]

[ The immediate reaction, the one that Day has to remember to try reining in, is the rush of cold fury that boils up from his tired, wounded heart. Please don't speak as if you're already dead.

(And more selfishly, Are you in a hurry to leave me behind? Which he knows is hypocritical of him, as someone always ready for the moment of inevitable farewell. Still is, despite resolving to try changing it.

Oh, so this is how Ginger felt weeks ago. This is what he might have meant when he asked Day, "Why does it sound like you're already saying goodbye?" He owes Ginger an apology.)

Followed by heartbreak, because of how lonely it is to reduce the value of one's life to measures of usefulness. There are already so many forces in the world that would do that for him (and Day would know because he's an agent for one of them), so why does Phil have to do it to himself? Does he not want to live? Are there not enough reasons to want to try? ]

[ In another circumstance, maybe Day would be more conscious about boundaries, or think twice about suddenly reaching over for Phil when he knows Phil is shy and prone to being antsy. But he also knows Phil will probably try to look away, or maybe even run, and he doesn't want that right now.

He reaches over to grab Phil's face, hands carefully cupping it and forcing Phil to look him in the eyes. His gaze is calm but intense—not serene in the way he would want to be, but how can he stay serene when Phil may as well have he's more useful dead? ]

Phil. I ain't eatin' your mana stone. And I ain't lettin' you die. I don't care if you're useful or not, I just want you happy.

[Day isn't wrong about the fact that Phil's first instinct is and has always been to flee. Ever since the picnic, he'd kept running and running until at last there was nowhere left for him to go, nowhere to run in order to escape the weight of reality and his own sins. And so, with no paths left to him, he'd become little more than a wounded animal simply awaiting its inevitable death, because when he looked ahead he saw nothing.

He still sees nothing. So why is Day so insistent about something that Phil knows simply isn't possible?]

You...

[Why? he wants to ask. You could be stronger, just like you want. His life could serve a purpose, bring something good for once instead of more harm.

But there's something gentle about those hands holding his face steady to keep his gaze locked with Day's even as they refuse to release him (he knows the starlight is still there, even though he can't see it right now... he wishes he could see it again, but that's just his own selfishness at work once more); out of instinct he lifts his own hands to Day's wrists as though he's going to try to pull those hands away, yet for some reason he can't bring himself to do so and just freezes instead, no real force behind his grip.

Despite everything, there's a tiny, quiet part of him that doesn't want Day to let go.]

[ Maybe Day understood because he's familiar with wanting to dodge one's troubles. He took to the path of the Hunted Maiden a little too easily, perhaps. His gaze softens a little at Phil's reaction, because even now Phil looks at him like he can't figure out why Day would want him to remain in the mortal coil.

It aches more than Day thought it would, and he wishes he knew how to convey to Phil how much he matters to him and have him believe it. This...guilt, it doesn't come from nowhere, and Day knows on some gut level it probably isn't entirely unfounded, either. If it was, then maybe this would have been more straightforward. ]

...I meant it, you know. I want you to live. There ain't any point if I get stronger off of your corpse. [ He doesn't let go of Phil's face. Even brushes his thumbs against the skin, a little.

And...he will allow himself this moment of selfishness and vulnerability if it'll maybe help Phil understand: ] ...Please don't leave me behind yet.

[ "Yet", because the knowledge that there is an appointed hour for Phil hangs over both of them. Even so, he doesn't want it to hurry any sooner. ]

["Please don't leave me behind yet."

Those words bring a wash of uncomfortably-familiar pain, an ache he'd long tried to bury and pretend that it didn't hurt as long as he didn't acknowledge it. Phil had always been the one left behind, so what had he done in response? Run away and leave others behind in his own wake, becoming the very thing he'd hated so much.

In the end, he's just trying to run away again, but this time it's from someone who has shown him over and over again that he doesn't want to let Phil disappear from his life. Phil still doesn't understand why, and he's not sure he ever will, but the one thing he knows is that he doesn't want to see this look on Day's face ever again.]

Day...

[The hands on his face are so warm even in this bitter cold. He wishes he could keep this warmth for himself, feel it in a context that isn't a desperate attempt at persuasion like this is. Instead, he just shifts his grip and moves his own hands up to cover Day's, still too shy to grasp them or do anything beyond just let them rest there.]

... I'm sorry. It isn't that I want to leave you-- I just...

[If he can't be loved, then maybe he can at least be useful.]

[ It's a...relief? Yeah, he'll use that word. It's a relief that Phil hasn't tried to push him away. Day lets Phil cover his hands, and a part of him wishes he could just lean in and let their foreheads touch. Some kind of comfort for the pain Phil seems to be in. But even he can tell that would be overstepping a line, and he isn't sure if it'd do anything besides frighten Phil. ]

Just...?

[ He's giving Phil a chance to voice whatever thought he has. ]

[Phil swallows hard, breathes deep, tries to shape the things he wants to say into words. But they just swirl around in his mind like mist, unable to be grasped, and for a moment his head suddenly feels like it's spinning just slightly--

-- and when his vision clears, he finds himself standing in one of the empty rooms on the Heimdallr. His first thought is bewilderment as to how they'd somehow made it back to Tir Na Nog; his second thought is a sudden almost sickening realization that the room isn't in fact empty after all.

"So, Phil. What am I? I know I'm the third Ix Nieves, but to what extent am I the same as the first one?" It doesn't take the full three sentences for Phil's blood to run cold. Why would it, when that entire conversation is seared so indelibly into his memory?

He hears himself admit to creating Ix - to being the only one responsible for his creation, much to Ix's shock. To rewriting Ix's memories to conceal the things he didn't want to be remembered. To molding him into the Ix he'd wanted to have rather than the Ix he should truly have been.

He hears himself narrate the events of that day in the Glasswater Woods, where he'd let his petty jealousy get the better of him and lead him to take the single action he regrets most in his life. (Was he really any different from the monsters that had attacked them...?)

And then he hears Ix's quiet, disbelieving laughter, accusing Phil of having the audacity to rob him and Mileena of their memories and emotions over something so stupid. He doesn't hear anything after that, because his only response had been silence. What excuse could he have possibly given in the face of that?

... what excuse can he possibly give now to the man standing right in front of him, still holding his face so gently?]

[ Day had known that the forest made people...hallucinate, and gave them visions, but this is not how he would have expected it to play out.

What follows is probably one of the greatest tests of focus and willpower Day's found himself going through; he doesn't look away from Phil, but he still listens to the conversation happening around him. When memories are brought up, it takes every inch of focus to keep his grip from tightening out of reflex, though unfortunately there's a flicker of shock across his face at Phil's admission to tampering with them.

But he listens, and as it goes on, the harder it becomes to read the expression on Day's face. He doesn't seem angry, or even upset, and maybe that's terrifying in its own way, because he certainly doesn't seem particularly happy about it either. It's the kind of expression specifically meant to hide what Day may be thinking.

It stays that way, even though his hands are still holding Phil's face so gently. ]

...Phil.

[ Because they cannot stay here in silence, after all that. ]

[The entire time, Phil has kept his eyes averted, far too frightened to look at Day's face when he's afraid of what he's sure he will see there. Judgment, of course, because who wouldn't? Anger, surely, because how dare Phil have the ego to alter someone's very essence like that? Disappointment, perhaps, because no doubt Day had thought better of Phil. It's the possibility of seeing disgust there that he fears the most, however...

But in the end he looks, since it's only fair. It's only fair that he meet Day's eyes and accept whatever may be waiting for him there. And when he does, the absolute neutrality of that expression terrifies him in ways he hasn't felt since he'd fled to Sellund after the incident in the woods.

Silently, Phil lowers his own hands back down to his sides.]

... please let go of me.

[It's quiet and resigned, yet at the same time so fragile in its desperate attempt to hold back the tide of emotion.]

Edited 2024-06-11 08:02 (UTC)

[ In some sense, Day is still trying to figure out what to feel, or more accurately, how to express what he feels. He isn't angry, despite everything (for better or worse, if he couldn't muster anger when his life fell to pieces, he certainly wasn't going to for this, warranted or not).

He...is upset, because some of this cleaves surprisingly close in ways he didn't think were possible from someone who wasn't also Chosen by a Maiden (but that is the wonder of different worlds, it seems).

He's disappointed, though he isn't sure if it's in Phil, specifically, or just the fact that all beings capable of love will inevitably do something unwise or terrible because of love. It might be a bit of both. For that same reason, he cannot be disgusted, because love being beautiful and ugly is as axiomatic as water being wet.

But more than those things, he wants to understand Phil. ...Or rather, he wants to know if he isn't just making the wrong assumptions. But before he can ask the question he wants to: ]

If I do, will you still be here?

[ Or will he have just let Phil slip through his fingers, like trying to catch the rain within one's hands? ]

[Phil wants to run. It's an instinct so ingrained in him by now that the desire surfaces without conscious thought; his muscles tense in preparation to turn and flee, as though he would ever have any hope of being able to escape safely in these foreign, dangerous woods. But he would just be running to his death (where would he even go when he's already run out of places to flee, real and metaphorical?) and he knows it.

There's nowhere left for him to go. The sigh he breathes is deep, catching slightly on what might be a sob threatening to break free.]

Yes.

[It's more an admission of defeat than anything else, though. Even so... somewhere deep within his heart there's the tiniest flicker of hope born from the fact that Day hasn't yet told Phil to get out of his sight. As long as he can hold tight to that, he can will himself to endure whatever will come next.]

thousand dreams, lotus boats upon the waters

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