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lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
promittere) wrote in lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
if you say it's magic, then you're my wizard
WANING GIBBOUS OVERTURE
The seconds tick by, the elevator rattles. There's a soft, musical chime announcing your arrival before the elevator doors creak open, leaving you and a number of others in the courtyard of a stone manor. The manor is large, looming over the trees surrounding it, and the gardens are well maintained, rows of hedges and beds of blooming flowers as far as you can see. The doors linger open until you clear the threshold, as if waiting patiently for you. Dawdle too long and you’ll feel a gentle push, nudging you out into the yard. The doors shut with more rattles and a cheerful ding!, and if you turn to look at it there's nothing to be seen behind you but the milling strangers.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday.
"Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday."Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Threading out magic practice and ICly discovering your characters' magic words, manifesting their foci, and summoning their broom will count as three different jobs, and will be eligible for a set of rewards each. While not technically classified as a job this time around, this is a special circumstance. When you've accomplished any of these things, please submit them to the rewards page as a job submission.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
JOB BOARD
You may have just gotten here, but people across the continent still need the sage's wizards to do things for them. The job board will typically have 2 - 3 requests each event that can be turned in for rewards when completed.
Sugar delivery. Confectionery shops and pharmacies put in regular orders for wizard sugar to the manor, and despite the unusual circumstances, now is no different. Wizard sugar—sugar spontaneously created through a wizard's magic—is said to have restorative properties and said to bless those that consume it, so it's no wonder it's in high demand. It also happens to be one of the first things young wizards learn to do. So once you've perfected your sugar, go deliver it to the shops in Central capital and to the Southern merchants waiting for shipment near the Central tower.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
WANDERER TASKS
The wizards' new mentor knows that this must be an incredibly overwhelming experience, so he has a list of things that should help break down the process of learning and understanding magic. Or that's what he says, at least, but it feels like he's trying to make things more difficult...
Nobody is going to hold your hands for you, and the best way to learn is to understand the root cause of an issue. Use that paper being left around for something actually useful and do some research on the spirits of the countries you've been tasked to represent. I'll be expecting some actual thought out papers within the week.
For the idiots who can't research to save their lives, prove you can actually manage the bare minimum. There's a spot you can't reach without magic within the manor grounds—bring me one of the trinkets you find there.
For the even bigger idiots who are overconfident, come find me and we can spar. I won't go easy on you.
TATARA ACTIVITIES
Tatara knows things are tense and uncomfortable for his new wizards, so he'll offer up a few activities each event post to help them relax if things get too tough.
We're all new here, but we'll be friends before long, I know it! There's a table in the dining room with paper, pens, markers, glitter, and pins so we can all make name tags and get to know each other better. We'll go from strangers to neighbors to besties before you know it!
Oh, you should probably get a feel of the manor, too. This IS your new home, after all! And what better way than...hide and seek?! Sounds fun, right? I'd tell you MY favorite spot to hide, but then that wouldn't be fair!
I don't know how long we're going to be here, so it probably wouldn't hurt to settle in. Grab a friend or two and head to the market in the Central capital to stock up on whatever food you like and stuff for your room. May as well get comfortable!
OOC NOTES
🌙 Welcome to Lunae Calamitas's first event post! Yer a wizard, whether you like it or not.
🌙 While not technically jobs, ICly working out your character's focus, incantation, and broom are all separately eligible for rewards. Good luck on your basics, little wizards! You'll need them...
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Please keep all your plotting on the plotting post, since not everyone uses discord or plurk.
🌙 The South will be going on their mission next week to get this party started. Keep an eye out, Southies!
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Solomon looks up from his war crime in surprise, before giving a wave.]
Good morning! Was the smell that enticing?
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Idiot, what part of this is enticing?! Are you trynna burn the place down?!
[ Sure, cooking accidents happen, he gets it. But this is less of an 'accident' and more of a 'negligent homicide'. There's a cough as he darts over to the stove itself, and if he's got to nudge Solomon over as he tries to close the vents and open the window, he will. ]
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Solomon, likewise, looks at Shinji with a rather empty expression, devoid of shame or awareness.]
Hm? Not especially. Was it getting too hot in the other room?
[He'll easily step aside to let Shinji mess around with the window. Wow, what a nice day. That's so kind of him.]
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Too hot—? Oi, you're actually serious?
[ And he thought he knew some airheaded people...a hand runs through the hair at the back of his neck with an exasperated noise, and he tries to shoo Solomon away from the pan. A bit less urgency now, but things are still burning. ]
There's nothing you could be cooking that needs that much fire, nevermind all the damn smoke. And what even is this? [ He's regarding the pan like you'd regard a foreign entity. ] If you're caramelizing sugar, it outta be brown, not black!
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[He coughs into one of his sleeves as he's shooed away, looking slightly hurt.]
You don't need to say things like that. I've never heated magical sugar before, sure, but I wanted to work efficiently. 600 degrees brings a boil a lot faster.
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[ There's not a whole lot of stuff that requires it, besides baking?? Not to mention, now that he looks, he doesn't really...have anything else out...huh.
Luckily, these thoughts go out the door once the guy drops '600 degrees'. The splutter Shinjiro makes is almost comical. ]
Give that here! [ HE'S TAKING THE PAN. GIVE HIM THAT. ] No fuckin' wonder it's hard to breathe in here, sugar ain't supposed to go over 350! You can't even eat this anymore!
[ Shit, will boiling water even be enough for this? Do they have vinegar and baking soda here? He's already getting grey hairs. ]
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[OH NO HIS SNACK :( what did he do to deserve this
He pouts slightly, shaking the soot out of his cape.]
Really, you're making quite a lot of assumptions... I think it looks perfectly fine.
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You...Let me make one thing clear right now. You cook in the kitchen, not experiment, got it?
[ The vent is adjusted so the fire keeps going at the lower temperature before it goes out completely, and then Shinjiro's at the sink, turning it on to start filling the pan. There's the beginning of a headache starting to throb at the back of his skull, but he's not sure if it's from this guy alone or the smoke inhalation. ]
You say that like makin' assumptions is hard when there was so much smoke in here you could barely see the damn ceiling. [ A grimace. ] And I've got a lot of questions if you can look at this and even want to eat it.
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[Who is this sassy lost child that has become stove police... really, someone needs to teach him some manners!
A sigh escapes him as he watches the fire die down, kneeling down to observe what remains of the charred logs and ash so he doesn't have to watch Shinji scrape all his hard work off into a wash basin. What a waste.]
All cooking needs some experimentation. And of course I would eat it. I'd never make something for others that I wasn't proud of creating.
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Shinjiro can feel his eye begin to twitch faintly...he's said before to eat something regardless of how you think it tastes to respect the chef's effort, but that's concerning actual edible food? This is...definitely not that. This is a biological hazard in the making.
He clicks his tongue as he pulls the pan full of water from the sink to set it back on the stove, so Solomon can ogle the normal sized fire instead. Now to pray this stuff will boil off. ]
...Never thought I'd meet another guy as stubborn as that idiot. [ That's a feat and a half. ] All you're gonna get by eating this is making yourself sick. If you think this is 'perfectly fine', there's something seriously wrong here...
[ Ugh, the smoke still burns. Has this guy never had a decent meal in his life?? Is this the issue? Or is he just...Yamagishi, but worse? ]
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[Wow, here he thought he had to be concerned for a second! False alarm.]
I was tasting it as I worked, you know. I feel perfectly fine. Here, I'll show you. It's safe.
[And because I rolled an 18 he's going to quickly grab a nearby butter knife and stab it directly into the reheating pan. There's an instant cracking sound amidst the splashing.]
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[ THAT'S A BIG PROBLEM? And not just the only one??
The fact he was tasting it and saw no problem is alarming enough...just so that he doesn't register the fact the guy is picking up the knife until it's stabbed directly into the pan itself with a loud crack, Shinjiro nearly jumping out of his skin in the process. ]
Wh-
[ MOTHERFUCKER? The choked noise he makes is punctuated by the way he reaches out and promptly yanks Solomon's hand out of the pan as he pulls it away. ]
The hell's the matter with you?! You lose all your common sense?!
[ Please give him back Yamagishi please please please ]
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No, I'm quite intact of my mind, thank you. How else do you expect me to get it out of the pan to show you that it's safe?
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You sure ain't actin' like it! [ He's keeping that pan away, thanks. Shove another knife in there, my good bitch, he dares you. ] You trying to damage the kitchenware on purpose?
[ Luckily, it shouldn't be more than dented, but even that...why... ]
Whatever iron stomach you got isn't the problem, it's that you think this is edible for anyone else! At 600 degrees, you might as well be making charcoal-
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[Bitching about his process, bitching about him not being able to eat it, pitching when he tries to eat it-------- is this guy just feeling ill or something?
Solomon sighs as his arms cross against his chest, raising a brow towards Shinji.]
Why would I damage the pan if I still need to use it? And you haven't even tried it yet. Are the pointless insults really necessary?
Are you just a picky eater?
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There's a difference between bein' rude and having some common sense!
[ If Solomon were more graceful and open to criticism, maybe he'd reel back the attitude. But this guy is no Yamagishi, there's not an ounce of shame anywhere. At least she had the decency to be ashamed of her kitchen abominations.
Deep breath. Calm down for a few seconds, until the next incident. ]
Jamming a knife in there is just gonna scrape the damn metal. And I don't make pointless insults; this is me telling you how it is. [ He is being so patient he is being so kind- ] This is a mess of burnt sugar. Not food. Nobody here's eating it.
[ He's putting this in the sink, far away from Solomon, just for his eyes to narrow in a glare. ]
And who're you callin' picky? You can't call someone picky for not wanting to eat burnt crap scraped out of a pan.
no subject
Really, do you have to be so harsh just because of the color? I'd appreciate if you stopped.
If you simply weren't interested, you could have just said no or left the room. Instead, you strongarmed your way into my entire experiment, assumed a great deal, insulted me, insulted my work, and are now making me watch you throw it away despite the fact that I was doing it for myself, without giving me much say in the matter and shrugging off my attempts to show my perspective...
[Common sense?? He feels this is very one sided bullying by a very angry teen, thank u.
He exhales deeply, eyes narrowing as the pan gets dumped fully into the sink.]
If you're that offended by someone making a snack, I suppose there's no point in arguing. But you're not going to be much of a magic user if you can't keep an open mind.
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This guy really is trying to make him out to be a bad guy here. Alright, maybe he kind of feels a little bad, since he seems to...maybe? Like cooking?? if you can call what he's doing that. but considering he seems to have a skull even denser than a brick, he doubts any nice and gentle critique will get through to him. Hell, even this doesn't seem to be.
An exasperated noise and a hand running through his hair later, and he finally looks up. ]
...Listen, old man. [ His tone is a bit less harsh, but please. Jesus. ] Nobody's gonna ignore you nearly setting the damn room on fire. I get you're trying, but even a kid knows food ain't supposed to be smoking out your kitchen. Nothin' needs to be cooked at 600 degrees, and sugar that hot will give anyone third degree burns. I can excuse a kitchen mishap or maybe a little bit of 'experimenting' or whatever you wanna call it, but you could actually hurt someone doing that shit, got it?
[ Hell, he doesn't even know how to handle something this bad. It's like...willful ignorance. Nobody's actually told this guy he can cook, right? Not when there's ash on the ceiling and a smell so acrid he can feel his nose burning. ]
You can eat whatever you damn well want, but when you're damaging the stuff everyone else's using, then there's a limit. Magic ain't got nothing to do with it; it's you being so carefree about it that's the problem.
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[Outside the shocking white color of his hair, he doesn't look beyond his 20s. But he still regards Shinji in silence for a long while.]
...You're a far more caring and considerate person than one would think from first impressions, aren't you?
I wonder why you would say magic doesn't have anything to do with it, though.
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[ His lips, naturally, quirk downward at the prolonged silence; he's still not particularly pleased, even if he did tone it down a bit. Abrasiveness is, unfortunately, just his default setting.
Enough of a default setting that he looks vaguely startled for a brief moment at the insinuation he's caring, and for some reason, he can just about hear it in Takeba's voice. This downcasts into a grimace, fingers tugging his beanie down further over his eyes to hide the aggravated, awkward look on his face. ]
Tch. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. [ It's not something he'd describe himself with, even if everyone else says otherwise. Old habits die hard. ] And we're talkin' about kitchen hazards, not magic. There's a difference between being open-minded and being careful.
no subject
[He holds up the knife that he'd shoved into the pan, delicately placing it between both of his hands.
Manu Propria.
The scuffed, partially dented metal from the blow slowly molds back into place.]
Magic isn't that much different as a concept, you know. Taking something natural and creating it into something else enjoyable or useful. Letting it get out of your control can lead to much worse than a little smoke.
[He sets the knife aside on the counter, blemish-free as though it hadn't ever been shoved into a cast-iron pan at full force.]
Practice is what helps you find the balance.
no subject
[ Curt and to the point. He's not addressing the other stuff, that's not a debate he wants right now. Truthfully, he doesn't want a debate at all, but someone has forced his sinful hand despite his best efforts.
The gaze he has is suspicious at Solomon's gesture, but the sight after at least delves more into bewildered territory than everything.
Sure, they'd gotten the magic lowdown, but actually seeing it is...something else. Enough he's only barely catches the first part of that weird lecture, disbelief flickering in his features as the newly-fixed knife sits innocently on the counter. Persona's are one thing, but this is another.
...No, he's not paying attention to that, now. Now that the novelty has worn off, he can return to his unimpressed gaze, arms folding taut over his chest. ]
You're missing the damn point here. I didn't come to listen to a magic lecture. [ He's really not in the place to be trying that shit right now, anyway. ] If you're pullin' shit that you have to fix like that in the first place, then that's the whole problem. Makin' it go away doesn't mean you can treat the kitchenware like that!
[ A pause, then a gesture to the pan with it's little knife-induced scuffs. ]
And if you're gonna fix that, then fix this too. Don't half-ass it.
no subject