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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!
no subject
My King's! [ Said normal, like this is normal?
When he whirls around again, he has a little packet of something-like-rice in hand. Found it! ] But he said no when I asked. Oh well!
[ He is not bothered... He strides over and places the pack next to Solomon. ]
What else do you need?
no subject
I would think serving royalty would make you a knight, not a hound. I wonder why he would say no to enthusiasm like yours.
[He carefully examines the not!rice. Yeah, that should be good enough to fry. Might have to eyeball the doneness, sure, but he trusts his gut.]
Mm... just eggs and a replacement for the dashi. We can improvise the latter - wasn't there seaweed somewhere around here?
no subject
I think it's because he liked me the way I am.
[ That's his selfish idea of the rejection, anyway. ]
There is!
[ He snaps out of his little mood shift and strides over to a row of jars lining a small shelf on the far wall. He snatches a jar appropriately labeled, feels like konbu.
As he places it next to Solomon, he peers up at him. ]
Do you need me to do anything else?
no subject
[Experience was a good teacher sometimes and a burning scar in others... He could see a soul of authority taking pity on this one, though. Earnest and quiet with a decent head on his shoulders.
Solomon regards his Sage with a moment of quiet as he opens the kombu. Mmm, that scent brings him back... yes, he definitely could try this.
And he could definitely see the resemblance to a dog. At attention, eyes sparkling, tail wagging in anticipation of instruction.
Cute.]
I could always find something. [He feigns a long and thoughtful hum as he starts gathering up the produce he's already diced up.] Let's see... I can leave you to handle the eggs if you tell me a little more about yourself while you do it.
no subject
[ His whole identity is his king. He made Mikoto Suoh his whole life and never once did he regret it. Maybe, after hearing about the Black Dog, all he wanted was to be the same, with a title like that.
Anyway, Tatara grabs a few eggs and a bowl from nearby, and laughs. ]
What? You want to know about me? [ But he wants to know about Solomon! As he cracks an egg into the bowl, though, he gives in. ] What do you want to know?
no subject
Here I didn't think I'd be seeing food with a mouth again so soon. Hahah!
[Still leaving the questions to him? Accomodating, polite. Maybe their Sage is more of a wallflower, or maybe...]
Would you like a boring question or a more troublesome one?
no subject
Is there really such thing as a boring question when we're from different worlds? [ Another egg, cracked into the bowl. ] I'll leave that as dealer's choice. Unless you're trying to get a rise out of me with a troublesome one.
[ As he cracks a third, he looks straight at Solomon. Well? ]
no subject
He meets the gaze firmly, studying. He will let the silence stretch, intentionally, before letting his volume drop, less boisterous and with a seniority to him that hangs in the air like a fog.]
Why do you want to help this world, Tatara?
no subject
[ He says this with a light, sing-song-y tone as he cracks a fourth egg into the bowl. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by this—he seems happy, even, if his demeanor means anything—but if Solomon knew about the blood-soaked clothes stuffed into the back of his closet, then maybe it would come off a different way.
Tatara grabs a fork and begins to whisk. ]
Who am I to say no?
no subject
[He understands the response - resigning to a role as a best option is, after all, what many of the wizards also seem to be doing. He'd given the same response many, many times, if only to separate his feelings from the process.
Gathering the vegetables and rice and odds and ends, he starts migrating over to the stove top, rummaging for some sort of fat to use before the sizzle of vegetables echoes through the room.]
If your wizards are going to come to you for advice, Tatara, honesty is a good way to start. But if this world and its magic operate off of conviction, then those that need guidance may look for an example.
You're in a position you don't feel you can avoid. Not without consequence. So obligation makes you stay. But what is it that makes you act for yourself?
Your King? Your country? The life you left behind? Do you simply want to feel you're doing what's best?
[No loyal hound works out of obligation. Obligation doesn't feed and shelter, train and encourage, reprimand and punish. The hound looks to his master and finds loyalty in connection to what he's been given, good or bad.
The rice is added to the pan. The seaweed after. A season of this, a pinch of that.]
Think about it, would you?
no subject
It's weird, being spoken to like this. His whole life he's been left to his own devices, and his friends have let him float as he pleased. He took on the role he had in Homra because he loved his king and what he could be. He gave it his all because that one thing was what they all had in common. They were a family.
He sees his role as sage as no different, though he's without his king and without Homra. He is fully intending to treat it the very same way, with everything he has. But to see someone on the ground try to grab what they can of him to try and drag him down to ground him to his perspective makes him feel somewhat itchy.
(There is a part of him, though, that finds it extremely funny that Solomon seems to think this is a literal king and country.) ]
Do you think that because I'm doing this out of obligation that I'm not going to give it everything I have?
[ He looks at his nicely whisked bowl of egg, and considers it finished. ]
I want to learn everything I can of this world and the people in it with whatever time I have here. That includes the people here against their will, like you.
[ He hands the bowl over to Solomon with a beaming smile. ]
All done!
no subject
I don't know what to think of you, dear Sage. [The spoon is tossed towards the sink with a clatter.] Even a magic user can't be a mind reader. But that's exactly why we ask questions.
[And their question session has been rather one-sided. But Solomon doesn't mind. They'll have time to extend the reach of their curiosities.]
Thank you for humoring me with an answer. I hope what you learn will lead you to a fulfilling success. Just don't forget what you want in the process.
[A wink, quickly made under softer eyes, before his energy brightens like the flip of a switch.]
Just another minute or two should be fine! Would you like to mold the shape of the rice while I finish the egg? We'll just need a plate.
no subject
When Solomon gives his thanks, Tatara gives a little smile and chuckle as a way of acknowledging it. He won't forget. He'll remember what Solomon said and think about it on nights he has nothing else to think about. ]
Sure! [ He'll scoot in and take Solomon's place at the pan, taking the spatula or whatever utensil he had been using for the rice. He nods to one of the cupboards. ] The plates are over there.
[ It smells delicious... ]
no subject
Rice into the bowl, I'll take the pan back for the egg. It shouldn't need much time at all. I'll let you decide on the portioning.
no subject
[ Tatara grabs the bowl, deftly scoops all the rice into it, then sets it back down on the stove.
With a dramatic gesture, he steps out of the way and motions to the pan again. All yours, boss! ]
no subject
Hopefully Tatara has figured out how much rice he wants on that plate, because that egg doesn't take very much time to cook at all. Solomon wisks at it with a fork over and over on itself, just up until it's partially solidified, before taking if off the heat.]
Stand back now. We'll see if it screams again.
[The joke is light and mischievous as he carefully folds the egg overtop the rice, tucking it in cleanly with a fork until the yellow almond shape is soft and unbroken.]
There we are. Let's see... [Where did the rest of that paste go, hmm hmm--] Would you like the hound, or would you humor me for a choice of my own?
no subject
Rice portioned and ready for the egg, and he obediently steps back to let Solomon finish it off. ]
Hmm! [ Tatara hums, and despite his playful attitude, it's clear he's taking this question seriously. Especially in light of the conversation they just had. ] You should pick, actually. To the sage era of my life!
[ What is that going to look like in Solomon's egg art? ]
no subject
He carefully considers, looking Tatara up and down in silence. Hm, what does their Sage remind him of...
His smile broadens slightly as he carefully works out an outlined silhouette. A couple stars here and there, some garnish...]
There we are. Whimsical, aloof and intelligent, with no fear of fun.
[Solomon picks up the plate in both hands, carefully turning towards Tatara as he holds it out for him, head bowed slightly.]
May you be as good a guide between this world and your wizards as a dolphin is to sailors on the sea.
1/2
[ He's only been to the aquarium once, and he's seen a dolphin precisely once. It's childlike in the way his face lights up at the design. You know what? He'll take it. He'll embrace his new dolphin persona—can't be a loyal hound now without a king to serve, after all.
He gently takes the plate and goes to sit at the kitchen island, marveling a little longer at the nice presentation and delicious scent. He feels like a kid.
As he takes the spoon in hand, he looks up to Solomon with a bright, delighted smile. ]
Thank you, ah...
[ What was his name?
Anyway, surely the kind gentleman will answer as he takes a hearty spoonful in his mouth. :) ]
no subject
Awful?
There's just a brief moment where Tatara chews, trying to power through and decipher the taste. But it looked so good. It smelled so good. Why does it taste like... Like this?
He tries to swallow, but it feels like he's choking instead. He frowns, pounds his fist to his chest, but— But—
Ah, and so the sage loses consciousness, crumpling face-first onto the island, before he can even take the second bite of his beautifully-made dolphin omurice. What a shame, what a shame... ]
no subject
Solomon. And you don't need to thank me. It's a hobby I enjoy, especially when cooking for oth--
[The clatter of Tatara's face hitting the counter interrupts him before he even finishes the thought.]
...
Eh?
Tatara?
[He'll carefully go over to check him... ah, the poor kid must have exhausted himself. He should really have been quicker making that food...
Oh well. He might as well find a fork and enjoy his half before it gets too cold.
Whenever Tatara wakes up from his death nap, he'll find half of the omurice gone and a note next to the plate:
"Get some rest in a bed when you can, dear Sage. I've left your portion for you to finish enjoying when you wake up. It was good to see you so excited.
I'll be happy to cook with you again in the future.
-☆"]