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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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( This is an inadvertent setup for a punchline later, )
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[ Edgy. ]
Is that what your weapon is for? [ Nodding at the sheath. ]
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( Would that he had the strength and luxury... He glances down at his sword, something of a wry smile curling the corner of his lip. )
... This is for protecting the person I care about. That's all.
( The irony being that it's also vampire made... nevertheless. )
At least I managed that much before I came here.
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... Glad to say I'm not a vampire. [ Though maybe he's a monster? He feels like one. A freak. There's a brief pause before he continues, his voice lighter: ] You'll go back to them. I don't know how this story ends, but I can tell you don't take your feelings lightly.
Somehow, it'll work out.
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The remark, though... is stupidly optimistic, in a way that rings warmly familiar. He meets it with irony in his gaze. homies we are having complicated feelings about our crushes... )
... It's not that simple. Wanting something doesn't mean you'll get it, no matter how much you try.
( If wanting were enough, he and Yuu-chan would've run off somewhere far away, deep in the mountains, deep in the woods, and maybe... )
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Maybe that's why Yuu got the things he wanted sometimes, and Mika didn't. Yuu deserved the world. )
Sorry to say, but my story's already over. Sounds like you need to hear what you said more than me.
( Given the angy expression and all.
Ginger isn't human or vampire, so Mika has no bone to pick with him specifically. Not that he's under any illusion that other types of creatures are like to be sinless - but they haven't personally wronged Mika. Yet. )
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To want and hunger for something you can’t have. Possessive of what’s not yours. ]
Ha. You know then. Someone here told me it’s okay to not be okay.
[ This particular pause means but. ]
When you can’t be okay and can’t have what you want, what’s left but anger?
Pretty words can only go so far.
[ Even though he tries to say them. Even though he lies and tries to believe it all. ]
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... If that's all that's left, be angry.
( Is that healthy? No. But who cares? )
Angry. Sad. Hurt. It's better than being empty. ( Not feeling anything, not being anything but your basest self— in his case, a vampire, a monster, a parasite, a thing. ) Better than lying to yourself. You'll collapse under the weight of it eventually.
( And you'll catch other people in the collapse, your own selfish stupidity, if you're unlucky. )
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Probably too stubborn to be empty. And it sounds… too scary… for someone like me.
[ Selfish. Coward. He can’t live that way. ]
Have you felt it before? Emptiness?
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All the time. It'd get worse every day. The only thing that kept it at bay was thinking about him.
( He's not ashamed of being Yuubrained!! But look where that got him. )
... Stupid how the only thing keeping me hooked to my humanity was the same person that gave me so much heartache.
( But better than nothing. Always better than nothing. Right? )
But I know he's fine without me, and we left off pretty final. So that's that.
( Yuu doesn't need him. Not the way Mika needed him; this, Mika firmly, perversely believes. )
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That’s that. Huh.
[ Can these complicated feelings be wrapped up in such an abrupt end? That’s that, but he’s feeling every jagged edge of regret and longing, bitterness and anger where the rest of their story has ripped away. ]
It seems… we understand each other pretty well. I don’t know if that’ll help the emptiness - if it’ll come back for you or start for me, but well. I’m here, if you need someone.
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Not human, not vampire. )
... I'm not that good at leaning on people or being there for them.
( And maybe if he was, maybe Yuu would've leaned on him more instead of needing to find these other people to replace what Mika failed to be, and what Mika took away from him.
Still. He doesn't reject what Ginger offers out of hand. )
... I don't really know if I can get you out of the empty if it gets to you, or if I can make it hurt any less, but I'll be around to stew with, if that matters any.
( The worst part of it was always being alone. He knows that much.
He doesn't really know if this is genuine connection or an awkward attempt at reciprocation because he can tell this is where you would insert such a gesture. Does he have enough humanity left to really care? ... He sort of thinks he does, but he isn't sure. He can't gauge his own actions.
But he hasn't been able to talk about these weird and ugly feelings before with anyone who seems to understand, so he guesses that has some objective value, even if you divorce the fact from feeling. Especially if they're going to be associated with one another here, given: )
... You got a blue coat too, right?
( Mika was paying attention to who got what when those were getting handed out, at least. )
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Yeah, though I gave it away to Leo. He was pouting about his color.
[ An absentminded answer as he studies Mika.
Trapped in this place, he’s lost some of his divine awareness. And so he can’t be sure of how old Mika is - he looks younger than Ginger. He knows appearances don’t mean much when it comes to age - and definitely not maturity.
But all of what’s inside him is a lot, a century that’s built up in ugly desire. Has Mika had that long? And aren’t Mika’s own feelings heavy enough? It would be unfair to put any more on him. Ginger doesn’t want that.
And yet he does. He’s selfish, a hypocrite. He wants… ]
Us, talking like this. That’s enough for me. You’re already great at that.
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He would rather not have to work with humans, and he gets on with this guy so far. Getting to work alongside someone he doesn't hate is a luxury he's rarely afforded, and he'd like to take advantage of that.
He's borrowed from his more practical considerations by Ginger's unexpectedly positive regard, and he realizes Ginger's been studying him. He recognizes, again, he hasn't really spoken to anyone besides Yuu without prejudice on his tongue; not for a long time. He doesn't know how to respond, and he isn't used to feeling so flatfooted. )
... I'm really not. I don't think I've really talked to anyone for a long time. ( Of course, he talked to Yuu, but that was more like talking at Yuu. ) I'm just... saying what I think.
( He isn't enough, is what he really wants to say. Not for anyone. He has failed in every moment another person has relied on him, and he continue to disappoint. (He regrets he left Yuu crying. He regrets he couldn't keep their promise. He regrets...)
Being some meaningful anchor feels like a sort of perverse fantasy, almost. Taking advantage of the opportunity to practice with him is one thing, but taking advantage of his emotional vulnerability? That's cruel.
Still. )
... But I'm all right with hearing you out, if you want to talk more.
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That’s just it. If I could tell him these feelings, just tell him what I think - but it feels impossible. I just can’t.
[ He stops, makes excuses. Another time, another day. Not yet. All the while, wondering incessantly what’s on Rum’s own mind. ]
But I can tell you and you can tell me.
[ Almost funny how easy the words come out when it’s with Mika. What is it about spilling your guts to strangers…? And he doesn’t even know - ]
Did I already ask for your name?
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Someone to talk to... That's going to be something to get used to. Does he trust it? Will something go wrong? It's something he wanted Yuu to be. But Mika ruined that. )
... Mikaela. But just Mika is fine. You?
( He prefers the nickname to the weird baggage associated with his full name. (He's never really had good luck with family, seems like.) But he'll let Ginger know his full one anyway, since he's all right.
A beat, his thumb rubbing the hilt of his sword idly; the pace of his thoughts moving in real-time. )
... You don't really have to smile if you don't want to.
( He doesn't really know if Ginger wants to or not. Maybe he does. Maybe it's for himself. Maybe it's for the memory of the guy he's thinking of. But. If it's not any of those things, it's fine. )
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[ He doesn’t know what face to make then. Not that… his emotions let him have much input. If he can’t smile his pain, then he’ll likely -
Ah, knew it. He rubs his wet eyes with the base of his palm. ]
The options aren’t great, Mika.
[ But - strangely enough, it helps. Mika’s words, or just the existence of someone he doesn’t have to pretend around.
(For now?) ]
I’m Ginger, half-angel and… half-demon, since you asked earlier.
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Angels and demons are dangerous as hell— at least, this is what he knows from his practical experience. But he has no grudge against either, so it allows him to weigh what he knows against what his eyes see now, with better clarity than he can view vampires and humans. )
... Hey. Do you want to go to my room? Or yours.
( If Ginger's getting teary and they're getting into Stuff, he'd rather keep it private. )
I'll talk about what I am, too.
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It’s not half and half, no matter how he may present it. The scales tip clearly toward one side, the pull of natural instinct outweighing any inherent duty he might have owed to God. He lacks the core of what makes an angel.
Beneath his fair features, he’s a writhing mass of want. ]
Ah… I don’t mind wherever. Mika, you should pick, so if you get tired of my whining, you can just kick me out.
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( He says this with some wry amusement, as if he could never, but don't be fooled— he really would kick someone out of their own room.
He considers the choice for only the moment before picking the simplest option: his room. He knows where it is, it's on the first floor so it's close, and he's pretty sure his pianist neighbor's out. He grabs Ginger's wrist (rude) and starts to pull him along, his pace naturally brisk. )
Do people normally get tired of you? Or is that just something you're scared of?
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Mm. [ And he’s about to say a definitive yes to Mika’s other question, too, except - he actually takes a moment to think about it, his thought process unraveling in words: ] Yep. Oh, but - everyone… seems… to like having me around anyway. Even if Rum punches me sometimes for being too annoying.
[ He stops. So much for making it easy for Mika. He tugs his arm back a little, so that his hand slips into Mika’s instead of his wrist. Doesn’t ask if it’s okay, because he seeks comfort and he’s a selfish thing. He squeezes. ]
… I’m scared still. People have limits and one day…
[ … ]
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(... Blood rushing beneath the palm, hot beneath the skin...)
He lets him hold it; he'll hold it back, after a moment, listening to Ginger's worries. An angel, a demon... but with these small, earthly fears. Maybe there's no escaping this sort of thing, because Mika, despite being a monster of his own kind, has these earthly fears, too.
They're basically at his room (1-2, don't mind how every door in the hallway and the walls as well are covered in colorful, crooked music notes, thanks Leo) but he turns on his heel in front of his door. )
... I won't. Get tired of you, I mean.
( He reaches out, a hand lingering for a moment at the side of Ginger's head, until he ruffles his hair. He'd do this with the other orphans a lot, a long time ago; this is ... a vaguely nostalgic gesture for him. )
It's fine if you don't believe me. Just ask me again and I'll say the same thing.
( He knows how these things fester. And while he can't speak for anyone else, he knows himself.
His hand starts to withdraw from Ginger's head as he squeezes Ginger's hand back. )
It's been a long time since I could talk to someone. For two years, I didn't talk to anyone. So, you're fine.
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How he was able to reach maturity is a wonder to himself. Maybe it was through sheer force of will, a longing to stay caught up with Rum. ]
Mika...
[ He leans in as Mika keeps talking, clutching his hand tight. It's so easy for Ginger's mind to add more to that. 'Didn't becomes 'wouldn't' becomes 'couldn't' as the wild ideas play out, paranoia's touch making things worse. Mika didn't say anything of that, no, but what if? What if - ]
Mika... [ He's practically shedding tears for the both of them, big childish droplets. ] That's too lonely.
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He misses Yuu. He misses Yuu a lot. And his chest seizes when he thinks about how he's not going to see him again. But he's... here right now. Figuring out what sort of feelings he has to offer in the here and now, scraping beneath the layers of his calcified heart. )
I'm not worth crying over. Come on. ( His smile is a little less wry this time. ) If you feel that bad for me, don't kick yourself out before I say anything. I'm so antisocial I won't speak a word to anyone if I don't have to.
( He doesn't mean to say this to obligate Ginger to stick around him, or anything. He's fine if Ginger leaves and lets Mika stay a loner. He just means to say he... is what he is. Saying what he thinks, without much disguised. Not speaking, not acting out of obligation, not— really, existing as part of this world, because his time has been long since up. And he's fine with that. (Is he?) )
Here. Couch's free.
( With a tug, he'll let them into his room; it's. dark. Muttering his spell—donec moraire—the candles and fireplace crackle to life and provide some dim lighting. The couch he's referring to seems to be this thing (since he doesn't really use it as a bed...). )
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Something… like that?
Ah - but maybe that's Ginger being influenced by too much fiction, by melodramatic feelings. An unhealthy projection of the angry solitude he felt, struggling with being half-blood, struggling with his possessive nature. Waiting to adapt like everyone else had easily done. ]
… We’re all worth crying over to someone. It’s too late anyway. I can’t take those tears back.
[ Dumb as a rock and stupid emotional. He sits - here, as he’s told to. Already grabbing for one of the pillows - because tears and pillows, they go together. ]
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