Welcome to Theia!

[theianmods]

Who: Your mysterious caretakers and you
When: September 1st
Where: The Town Square
What: The welcome wagon has arrived!
Warnings: Minor gore, death




It's a white envelope that finds its way under every door, through every nook and cranny a day or two after your arrival. With the peculiar, bloodstained fingerprints lovingly applied as though they were a signature scrawled into its thin paper body, it doggedly persists--it will find you--until you open it and read the letter written ever so meticulously in fine script. It's a cordial invitation to a party hosted in your honor in the town square today. You should hurry, hurry, hurry! You wouldn't want to be late and keep your generous hosts waiting... or so says that oddly compelling feeling pressing into the back of your head. You make your way to the square, the urgent tugging feeling growing stronger the closer you get, and when you turn the corner to get a glimpse of the festivities, you find it's... not quite what you had been expecting.

The square is small, and looks rather out of general use. The fountain in the center is dusty and crumbling, and if there was ever any water in it it's long gone now. Most of the cobbled stones are broken and loose in the road. There are two long tables stocked with refreshments along either side of the walkway to the fountain, and what appears to be a small stage of some sort right in front of it, holding a large, ornate chair and a third table. The most unsettling thing, however, is the rest of the décor.

The theme is death, or so it would appear. Beside the food table to your left sits a bespectacled man wearing a scarf, but was the scarf always red, or is it only stained so because his head is hanging onto his neck by a thread? Against his lap rests a beautifully crafted cello, which appears to be missing its G-string... Oh. There it is--it's still stuck in the gashed man's neck. The poor bastard has been garrotted with the strings of his cello! Talk about hoisted by your own petard. Where his head lolls against the table, you may notice that behind those glasses, his eyes are missing.

Near the fountain is a large, wrought-iron statue of an archer, where... well, he's made his first kill, apparently. The body of a young girl with long dark hair is speared neatly through the chest by the archer's arrow, her little feet a good half a yard off the ground, now sticky with her blood. If you step closer to peer into the fountain, you'll find another body, this one a man with short dark hair, his face twisted into a mask of desperation and his gloved hands around his own throat as though he were gasping for air. Oddly, his lower jaw appears to be missing. Did he drown? There is no water in the fountain...

In the ornate chair on the platform is the body of another man, this one with his head completely removed from his shoulders. Oh... there it is, in his lap, his hands carefully arranged in his wild black hair. Wait, it seems there are too many hands, though! A second body dangles from a large tree that looms over the square, the rope frayed and dirty where it is wrapped around another man's neck, a strangely peaceful smile on his face, blue though it is. His hands rest atop the first man's, as though making certain the severed head remains still.

On the table in front of the chair rests a chest, its lid wide open and a glittering bounty inside.



If you peer inside, you will see a collection of eggs! Scaly, cool to the touch, and about the size of a football, they come in several colors. There is a note pinned to the inside of the trunk's lid--


Do you take an egg, as the note suggests? Dare you? (Dare you not?)

That pressing feeling in the back of your head has left you now, now that you are here to be welcomed to the city, now that you are here in the presence of your caretakers, but it is difficult to take comfort in the relief from the compulsion when surrounded by so much destruction. Who has done this to the faithful sentinels of the city? Who has killed the Watcher, the Interloper, the Guardian, the Nightingale, and the Keeper? Why have they been left here, at your welcoming home party?

Before you can turn to ask your neighbor, before you can wonder any further, a sound breaks the silence--a terrible, wet crunching noise like a sheet of ice breaking under your feet. You turn over your shoulder to see that it isn't anything so simple as ice. In the middle of the square is one final body, a body that wasn't there but a moment ago. She is small, thin, with dark hair and eerily pale eyes wide in terror. You know this girl, she met you on the elevator, expressed pleasure that you had been found (had you been lost?), and welcomed you home. Where did she come from? It's as though she simply... fell out of the sky! The Dreamer now dreams forever.

As you turn to survey the carnage all around you, a pleasant chiming sound seems to fill the air. It would seem that your mirror has a message for you! Upon inspection, you will find a new icon on the main viewscreen.


If you touch the icon, it will take you to a new application. Welcome to the Task Board! Here you will find a multitude of errands you can run for... whoever is running the city, now. Boy, what a way to announce things are under new management!

Welcome back to Theia, wayward children. Please enjoy the refreshments--watch out for the Nightingale's eyes, they may have fallen into the punch--get reacquainted with your friends and neighbors, and do take good care of those eggs. Or else...

Comments

[gottastaycalm]

Is this your Rain Flame?

[ Otherwise, where did this snow come from? And that cane... maybe it was his weapon of choice just like Yamamoto used two swords. And since it reminds him of Yamamoto, Lambo isn't scared. The Rain Guardian was always nice to him, so to see his element on display now is kind of soothing. ]

[saltysanta]

Rain Flame? I use ice, not rain.

[He's not familiar with the terminology, but really, Lambo is more right than wrong in his assumptions.]

[gottastaycalm]

[ So, they didn't have the dying will flame in his world, then... He looks back up, letting the snow hit his face, the flakes melting on contact. ]

Why are you doing this? It almost feels like the inside of a snow globe.

[saltysanta]

Your face doesn't hurt anymore, does it?

[Why should be obvious, shouldn't it? Geez, he's not going to explain everything.]

[gottastaycalm]

[ He blinks, then slowly reaches up to touch his face. ]

The sun flames activation attribute...

[ He looks over at him. Rain and Sun flames... Tranquility and activation. Two flames. ]

You healed me.

[saltysanta]

I wouldn't have needed to, if you hadn't taken a swan dive. What's this flame business?

[He hadn't hesitated to, even though it probably hadn't really been necessary..... but he could still complain about the inconvenience of it.]

[gottastaycalm]

Where I'm from. Those with flames of the sun have the ability to activate the cells in the body in different ways. [ He touches his temple where the pain had suddenly vanished. ] They can heal by the light of their flames.

[saltysanta]

.....Hm. That's close enough, I guess?

[Activating cells in the body sounds..... complicated and strange, and he's not entirely sure what to make of the idea. But healing? That, at least, he understands.]

At any rate..... we should get out of here. There's nothing we can do for any of them anymore, and there's no telling where the culprit is.

[gottastaycalm]

[ One eye blinks, as he remembers why they needed to get out of there in the first place. He draws closer, not wanting to be alone in this scary place. ]

Where do we go?

[saltysanta]

Anywhere, I guess? I haven't exactly been here long enough to know the area, have you?

[gottastaycalm]

[ He thinks back. You know... the last time the monsters were chasing him, he ran away for a pretty long time. He got to see a lot of the area. ]

There's a shopping district not to far from here.

[ Of course, he'd run into other buildings like the library but he doesn't want to go there. Shopping should calm his nerves at least and maybe he could pick up something for himself. ]

[saltysanta]

That should be safe enough for now. C'mon.

[Shopping means people, right? Stores have employees and customers. There's safety in numbers and behind walls and doors. The streets had seemed deserted, aside from the other "party" guests--but surely that couldn't be the case for the whole town, right?

He starts walking; the sooner they leave behind this gory mess, the better. Lambo's sure to be in step within moments, anyway.]

[gottastaycalm]

[ He falls in step and soon enough they reach the great and abandoned shopping mall! ]

I can pick up a few things while we're here.

[ He says as he walks inside the seemingly deserted building. ]

[saltysanta]

[He would have asked what exactly Lambo intended to pick up, and with what money--who knew what kind of currency was used here?--, if not for the fact that the area is completely deserted. Noël frowns, tensing in slowly growing wariness.]

Even a place like this is empty.....?

[gottastaycalm]

[ By empty, you mean safe. Yes. It is safe and by now, Lambo is wandering into one of the shops to pick up a new shirt for bed, and on the way he picks up some manly bracelets. He checks the tag for material and smiles, good. He didn't like the other. ]

Want to get some food?

[ He only managed a few meals worth of food yesterday, so he's here for the essentials. ]

[saltysanta]

[If only by instinct, Noël is certain a place like this should be full of people. A huge mass of shops, all together under one roof? That's a guaranteed crowd at any time of day. The fact that it's empty is wrong..... but on the other hand, it is true that it's safer this way. Fewer people means less of a shield if anything should happen, but also less opportunity for a killer to blend in amidst the crowd.

He's distracted enough looking around at everything that he has to hurry after Lambo to stay close, now that they're safe enough for the younger man to wander.]

.....We may as well. It was probably poisoned back there, anyway.

[gottastaycalm]

[ Once he's out of danger, Lambo reverts back to his teenage self so expect him to be wandering into shops here and there on their way to grocery store. Half an hour later, they grace the entrance of the large conglomerate of food stalls. ]

It's not as nice as the outdoor market but at least the basil is fresh.

[ He shrugs as he picks up a wooden basket, handing it to Noel. You didn't expect him to carry his groceries did you? ]

Hold this.

[ He tells him as he goes to pick up the basil, then grabs some tarragon and spinach. When he returns, he puts the items in the basket and heads to the dairy section. ]

[saltysanta]

[The difference really is like night and day..... It's hard to believe this casual shopper is the same person he'd seen crying on the ground not even an hour ago. Then again, to be fair, his own demeanor has changed as well--now that he's not trying to be authoritative and shepherd someone away from a murder scene, he's actually softened considerably, willing to browse with quiet wonder himself. If a deserted marketplace like this had existed in London, he and Charles would have been so much better off. Maybe they could have even.....

.....No, now's not the time to think stupid thoughts about stupid dreams that can't come true. Charles is gone. Nothing can or will ever change that.

It puts a bit of a damper on his amazement, even as he accepts the hand basket and follows without even so much as a protest. His egg is safe in his bag, after all, it isn't like he doesn't have a free hand.]

As long as it's free, does the quality even matter that much? What are you making, anyway?

[gottastaycalm]

[ Surprise flickers across his eyes as he just stares at him. Oh, Noel. You poor child. ]

Yare, yare. You must have live a terrible life with thoughts like that.

[ He shakes his head at him. ]

Where do you think happiness comes from? A quality of life.

[ You can't just accept things because they're free. At the end of the day, it's better to have a few nice things than a lot of crappy things. ]

Ravioli with crostini.

[saltysanta]

I've never even heard of that.

[A terrible life indeed, if he isn't even familiar with Italian food! He'll just..... leave off answering Lambo's question entirely, instead raising an eyebrow at the unfamiliar food names.

His life is..... better than it had been, in one sense. He has all of his needs well-provided for. He doesn't have to subsist on things like stale bread that someone was charitable enough to give to the church. But how meaningful is that, really, when he can't share his good fortune with Charles?]

1/2

[gottastaycalm]

......

[ A startled look. Are you serious?! He was mostly kidding before but to never have head of ravioli! ]

What kind of awful place do you come from that doesn't have Ravioli?!

[ Let alone crostini! You poor, poor child! ]

2/2

[gottastaycalm]

[ For a moment, he just stares dumbfounded on what to do, but then an idea pops into his head and he's grabbing his hand and pulling him along to the dairy section. ]

I'll make some for you that way you don't have to live a miserable life anymore.

[ Because obviously a life without ravioli was no life at all. ]

[saltysanta]

London? It's probably just imported--!

[Just. London from well over a hundred years ago, who never had the opportunity to eat expensive imported goods or look at fancy cookbooks that might have influences from foreign cuisine. Noël yelps in surprise as he's suddenly towed along, nearly dropping the basket and hurrying to keep up.]

Wh-what's so miserable about not knowing one or two dishes?!

[gottastaycalm]

[ Lambo looks at him. One or two dishes... is that right. ]

What about bruschetta? Frittata? Risotto? Gnocchi?

[ Surely, he at least had those. They were all common dishes like ravioli. ]

[saltysanta]

Eh.....

[Noël furrows his brow, trying to remember back when he'd roamed the streets of London and listened to the chatter of the crowds; clearly his life is even more miserable than Lambo first thought, even if he can at least offer an answer this time. He hadn't been able to understand foreign languages back then, after all.....]

I think I've heard of fritatta? Probably from the immigrants.