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pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE 02
TEST DRIVE
Hello, and welcome to the second Pluviosa Test Drive!
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 4-12 in the ship calendar, and will run until around the game's next major event. You can get a better idea what's going on in the most recent Game Update which covers Days 5-8. Currently, character IC housing is not in operation yet; it is expected to open on Day 9 (part of the way through the Test Drive period). Otherwise, the ship is largely in the state described on the Setting page and in other game information.
Test Drive threads involving characters who are accepted are considered canon to the events of the game unless otherwise agreed by players/mods. Pluviosa does not do welcome mingle logs nor does it have any kind of in-character welcome information, making your test drive threads your character's arrival to the game setting. That said, mod-run interactions such as formal exploration and/or interactions with the Ship as an NPC are not available on the Test Drive.
It is advised that potential players familiarize themselves with the Premise page, the Rules/Session Zero page, and at least the first few paragraphs of the Setting page. As Pluviosa is a horror game, we especially encourage players to be aware of the content warnings that will be major themes of the game. If you have any further questions, you can ask them on the QUESTIONS header in the comments!
If you're test driving a character, you're welcome to join the game Discord and hang out and meet your fellow players!
You wake up. You remember waking up, right? In another place, another time...
There's blood running down your fingers. Outside, the rain isn't pounding, yet, just a gentle patter...
Or is it?
As characters gain fuller awareness of their surroundings, they will realize that there is, in fact, no blood on their hands (save any that might have already been there). It feels as though they lost focus for a moment and hallucinated, but the hallucination ended with them somewhere else entirely.
There is not actually the sound of rain. If characters are near enough to a window, balcony, or even a hole in the ceiling, they will find that it is cloudless, beaming sunlight outside. The emptiness in the distance rolls on and on, completely absent any signs of life.
That being, of course, because the signs of life are all in here. Characters might wake up on any of the decks on the upper side of the ship - anywhere that isn't the cafeteria or lounge where previous arrivals spend most of their time is free game. This also means, of course, that they have the jungle of plants to contend with...
Most areas in the ship are dark when characters arrive. That doesn't mean that they stay dark. Occasionally, lights overhead flicker on and off for a few minutes at a time.
The problem with this isn't the lights themselves (cool white and kind of industrial). It's the reaction that the addition of the extra light causes the plants in the dark areas of the ship that's cause for alarm. To describe the growth as explosive isn't an understatement - vines, saplings, and even thicker branches surge with growth, pushing outwards towards the distant sunlight and upwards towards the flickering bulbs.
The growth is sudden enough to take all but the most aware characters by surprise, and if they're in the wrong corner of the room, it's very easy to get tangled up, wedged in by a tree trunk, or otherwise trapped against some corner or wall. If you're lucky and skilled, you might be able to cut yourself out from there (or break down the wall you're shoved up against), but otherwise, there's only one solution left.
Yell like your life depends on it, and hope somebody out there can hear you. And that whoever hears is someone who is inclined to help, rather than leaving you there. Or worse.
Oh, and the lights flicker back off after a few minutes, of course. Hopefully you're not waiting for rescue in the dark (with the smell of mold and the general faint dampness of the forest) for too long.
Occasionally, the whole ship tilts.
This is not simply the side to side motion of a ship on the water (or the equivalent motion brought on by the way this particular ship moves); it's an extremely forward or backward tilt that sends things sliding across the floor if they aren't secured by roots or something else. Unlike storm-tossed ships, the tilt is somewhat prolonged - rather than everything sliding back and forth a couple times a minute, the tilt lasts for five, ten, maybe as much as twenty minutes.
Although it's not enough to knock a well-balanced character off their feet, it's quite likely that new arrivals will not be particularly on-balance. And attempting to traverse the ship with the tilt is a tall order... especially when the ship's angle does unexpectedly change... to the exact opposite direction. All that goes up the mountain must go back down, and a glance out the windows reveals that that's exactly what's going on, as the ship progresses across a mountainous landscape without real regard for the concept of mountain passes.
And for characters who have managed to make their way to the "civilized" parts of the ship, namely the cafeteria and the lounge above it... None of the furniture in these areas is secured. The cafeteria carts under the direct control of the Ship don't seem as inclined to go anywhere, but the tables and chairs in the cafeteria and the couches and armchairs upstairs... Well, it's a good thing both spaces are surrounded by railings. Large chunks of tree trunk also still littler the lounge, sliding back and forth and occasionally rolling with great force across the floor.
Better hold on tight.
While wandering around the ship's interior, characters might occasionally hear a person whistling.
The sound always seems to be coming from just around the corner, but it sounds alive in a way that other sounds don't. Maybe more alive, even, than the rustle of leaves, the occasional drip of water, and the sounds of things sliding back and forth across the grimy, leaf-covered floors. The whistler, whoever they are, doesn't actively respond if called out to - but the whistling does pause, as though indicating that the call was heard, before starting up again.
If characters choose to follow the whistling, they're inevitably led to the same place - somewhere overlooking the great gap down the middle of the ship, whether an internal suite's balcony, one of the bridges crossing between the two halves, or one of the hallways that runs alongside it. Once they're there, there's no whistler in sight; however, characters will be filled with the overwhelming urge to look over the edge of the railing and down into the lower parts of the ship.
Exactly what they experience after looking down varies. Some will hallucinate that they've fallen over the side, feeling their balance go haywire and seeing the floor rushing up to them right up until the moment of "impact," at which everything returns to normal. Some will feel a stranger's hands on their shoulders, threatening to push them over with a great shove that goes through them with incorporeal fingers. Some will just hear unidentifiable laughter right up close to their ears, and experience the distinct sensation that there's someone laughing at them, in a haha-made-you-look kind of way.
But whatever happens, when they look up, there's no one there - or at least not anyone that physically close to them. The one good thing about being drawn to the middle section of the ship by whatever prankster this is is that it makes it a lot easier to run into people if you're all drawn to the same, highly visible place.
And at least the other person is flesh and blood, right? Probably.
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 4-12 in the ship calendar, and will run until around the game's next major event. You can get a better idea what's going on in the most recent Game Update which covers Days 5-8. Currently, character IC housing is not in operation yet; it is expected to open on Day 9 (part of the way through the Test Drive period). Otherwise, the ship is largely in the state described on the Setting page and in other game information.
Test Drive threads involving characters who are accepted are considered canon to the events of the game unless otherwise agreed by players/mods. Pluviosa does not do welcome mingle logs nor does it have any kind of in-character welcome information, making your test drive threads your character's arrival to the game setting. That said, mod-run interactions such as formal exploration and/or interactions with the Ship as an NPC are not available on the Test Drive.
It is advised that potential players familiarize themselves with the Premise page, the Rules/Session Zero page, and at least the first few paragraphs of the Setting page. As Pluviosa is a horror game, we especially encourage players to be aware of the content warnings that will be major themes of the game. If you have any further questions, you can ask them on the QUESTIONS header in the comments!
If you're test driving a character, you're welcome to join the game Discord and hang out and meet your fellow players!
ARRIVAL - LIKE THE RAIN
You wake up. You remember waking up, right? In another place, another time...
There's blood running down your fingers. Outside, the rain isn't pounding, yet, just a gentle patter...
Or is it?
As characters gain fuller awareness of their surroundings, they will realize that there is, in fact, no blood on their hands (save any that might have already been there). It feels as though they lost focus for a moment and hallucinated, but the hallucination ended with them somewhere else entirely.
There is not actually the sound of rain. If characters are near enough to a window, balcony, or even a hole in the ceiling, they will find that it is cloudless, beaming sunlight outside. The emptiness in the distance rolls on and on, completely absent any signs of life.
That being, of course, because the signs of life are all in here. Characters might wake up on any of the decks on the upper side of the ship - anywhere that isn't the cafeteria or lounge where previous arrivals spend most of their time is free game. This also means, of course, that they have the jungle of plants to contend with...
LIGHTS ON, SHOW START
Most areas in the ship are dark when characters arrive. That doesn't mean that they stay dark. Occasionally, lights overhead flicker on and off for a few minutes at a time.
The problem with this isn't the lights themselves (cool white and kind of industrial). It's the reaction that the addition of the extra light causes the plants in the dark areas of the ship that's cause for alarm. To describe the growth as explosive isn't an understatement - vines, saplings, and even thicker branches surge with growth, pushing outwards towards the distant sunlight and upwards towards the flickering bulbs.
The growth is sudden enough to take all but the most aware characters by surprise, and if they're in the wrong corner of the room, it's very easy to get tangled up, wedged in by a tree trunk, or otherwise trapped against some corner or wall. If you're lucky and skilled, you might be able to cut yourself out from there (or break down the wall you're shoved up against), but otherwise, there's only one solution left.
Yell like your life depends on it, and hope somebody out there can hear you. And that whoever hears is someone who is inclined to help, rather than leaving you there. Or worse.
Oh, and the lights flicker back off after a few minutes, of course. Hopefully you're not waiting for rescue in the dark (with the smell of mold and the general faint dampness of the forest) for too long.
TILT-A-WORLD
Occasionally, the whole ship tilts.
This is not simply the side to side motion of a ship on the water (or the equivalent motion brought on by the way this particular ship moves); it's an extremely forward or backward tilt that sends things sliding across the floor if they aren't secured by roots or something else. Unlike storm-tossed ships, the tilt is somewhat prolonged - rather than everything sliding back and forth a couple times a minute, the tilt lasts for five, ten, maybe as much as twenty minutes.
Although it's not enough to knock a well-balanced character off their feet, it's quite likely that new arrivals will not be particularly on-balance. And attempting to traverse the ship with the tilt is a tall order... especially when the ship's angle does unexpectedly change... to the exact opposite direction. All that goes up the mountain must go back down, and a glance out the windows reveals that that's exactly what's going on, as the ship progresses across a mountainous landscape without real regard for the concept of mountain passes.
And for characters who have managed to make their way to the "civilized" parts of the ship, namely the cafeteria and the lounge above it... None of the furniture in these areas is secured. The cafeteria carts under the direct control of the Ship don't seem as inclined to go anywhere, but the tables and chairs in the cafeteria and the couches and armchairs upstairs... Well, it's a good thing both spaces are surrounded by railings. Large chunks of tree trunk also still littler the lounge, sliding back and forth and occasionally rolling with great force across the floor.
Better hold on tight.
SOMETHING WHISTLING
While wandering around the ship's interior, characters might occasionally hear a person whistling.
The sound always seems to be coming from just around the corner, but it sounds alive in a way that other sounds don't. Maybe more alive, even, than the rustle of leaves, the occasional drip of water, and the sounds of things sliding back and forth across the grimy, leaf-covered floors. The whistler, whoever they are, doesn't actively respond if called out to - but the whistling does pause, as though indicating that the call was heard, before starting up again.
If characters choose to follow the whistling, they're inevitably led to the same place - somewhere overlooking the great gap down the middle of the ship, whether an internal suite's balcony, one of the bridges crossing between the two halves, or one of the hallways that runs alongside it. Once they're there, there's no whistler in sight; however, characters will be filled with the overwhelming urge to look over the edge of the railing and down into the lower parts of the ship.
Exactly what they experience after looking down varies. Some will hallucinate that they've fallen over the side, feeling their balance go haywire and seeing the floor rushing up to them right up until the moment of "impact," at which everything returns to normal. Some will feel a stranger's hands on their shoulders, threatening to push them over with a great shove that goes through them with incorporeal fingers. Some will just hear unidentifiable laughter right up close to their ears, and experience the distinct sensation that there's someone laughing at them, in a haha-made-you-look kind of way.
But whatever happens, when they look up, there's no one there - or at least not anyone that physically close to them. The one good thing about being drawn to the middle section of the ship by whatever prankster this is is that it makes it a lot easier to run into people if you're all drawn to the same, highly visible place.
And at least the other person is flesh and blood, right? Probably.
Pretend this is an icon of Robin I don’t have the space for one
She puts on the face she’s worn so often in Penacony, her height and the pitch of her voice shifting into a perfect copy.
The semblance of Robin’s footsteps into the room are intentionally loud before she cries out “Brother!”
[I am physically restraining myself from having her say “gege” instead of brother like she does in the CN audio I play with]
no subject
He hears someone approach, a voice he knows-- His sister--- Robin...
His heart leaps into his throat, and he turns to look at her. Words lingered at the tip of his tongue, ones he could never speak. It was not right for him to burden her with his concerns, his fears. He knew she worried, but he felt it improper, rude of him. She was the one on tour, so far from her Family, her home. The least he could do was listen to her worries and try to ease her anxieties while they had a spare moment together.
He was her brother. He was supposed to protect her.
Sunday's relief is clear on his face as he walks over to her, his expression soft. But something about this.. it feels wrong. Like she shouldn't be here. Why was she here? This prison was his and his alone, wasn't it?
This was wrong. Something was wrong. She'd died, hadn't she? He'd lost her, he was sure. He'd seen her body, had seen the wound. The IPC Delegate. The traitor, the meme. The more he looks at her the more he sees her, but the idea of seeing her here, in this cage with him...
Sunday's eyes widen and the feathers on his wings fan out as a quiet fear grips him. A feeling of unease, horror settling in his gut, making itself home.
What had he done? Why was she here?
"Robin...?"
It's all he can manage.
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no subject
The more his sister speaks, draws closer, the more confused his mind becomes. What had happened? She had died, he was sure... But she was here, in front of him. She had been... beside him too, hadn't she? In some far off, unfamiliar dream.
But he'd also. The Charmony Festival. She shouldn't be here. There was so much to do.
"What are you doing here...?"
His voice is soft, his heart in his throat. The halovian's eyes are wide, unbelieving. Fearful. She didn't deserve this. Not to be this awful place. Not to see him like this, filthy and miserable. Sunday's hands tremble, and tears sting at the corners of his eyes.
"I.. I don't understand what this is. Where we are. Why you're... With me."
His mind made even less sense of this than anything else that had happened so far. Something about all of this seemed so. Wrong. Things were not supposed to turn out this way. Why was his sister here? She needed to leave. Before... Before what?
Some part of Sunday was so sure Robin didn't belong here, that she was... That everything was out of alignment, out of place. Disorderly. The thought makes his skin crawl, his feathers fanning out. He tries to shake away the thought, but it lingers and sets teeth into him. This was wrong, this was incorrect, Robin wasn't... She shouldn't... He'd failed, somehow, someway, hadn't he?
He'd pulled her into this prison with him.
Sunday steps forward, reaching for her. If he could touch her. If he could know that she was real and here. Not a ghost, not something fake, conjured up by the vessel itself... Maybe he could still...
"Robin... Sister..."
Forgive me.
no subject
Sparkle steps closer, lets him reach for her. Robin would never deny comfort to her dearest brother. "Shouldn't I be with you, brother? I don't want to be alone here..."
She's relaxing into the part, thinking the right thoughts, moving without having to consider it. Robin is an easy role, as visible as she is, as much as she's already studied her.
no subject
A faint memory of something sharp sinking into him, piercing through... That man's face. He... Sunday couldn't remember what it looked like. Couldn't remember his name. But it had been just the two of them there.
Until it wasn't.
Sunday's hands tremble. No, she shouldn't be here. Neither should he, truly, but he was here and... As much as he'd hated it, he felt as though he'd intended this, somehow. And yet she was here. And nothing was in its right place.
He's torn. Something in him knows this is wrong. But a smaller, softer part of him wishes that it didn't matter. Wishing that it was enough for her to be right there with him, and that everything would fall into place because of it. Like it used to. Like either of their songs had meaning.
But he isn't a child anymore. Neither of them were. And no amount of hugging and sobbing into her could ever have changed their fates. Sunday isn't sure why he's so certain of that.
"No, you shouldn't."
Sunday's voice is quiet, and he turns away from her. He can't bring himself to touch Robin, let alone look at her. Like his very hand could stain her, like he was in free fall, pulling her down with him.
"If you're here with me, then I..."
He'd failed her.
no subject
(The one wearing the mask? That's Sparkle.)
no subject
Sunday couldn't bear to see the hurt on her face, as her voice broke through his momentary silence. But he still turned to look. And it hurts. It hurts so much more than her absence ever could.
She reaches for him, and he lets her, because he's not sure if he could bear to hurt her any worse than he has.
"It was me. I did. I couldn't..."
Robin didn't deserve this fate, to be trapped here, stuck with him. She deserved to be free. She'd always been stronger. She'd always had a chance. He sees her, and thinks of the bird they'd found as children, but he knows the dove was never meant to be ███, doomed to a life without flight.
The lessons that came from the pain of watching that little bird plummet when it finally spread its wings. They feel as close to him as her expression from moments ago, as close to him as her hand was now.
"I couldn't save you."
He puts words to his fears, less afraid of being weak, and more afraid of giving them power, here.
He'd never admit to her that he'd laid awake for hours, and nights on end, hoping, waiting for her letters. Hoping she she was safe, okay. Fussing with the hands of the clock, straightening and reordering the books on his table, in the hopes that maybe doing these things, clearing the worries from his head, wouldn't give them power, make them true.
Asking the Dreammaster for any letters from her, any sign of her. Fearful of not receiving word from her immediately, afraid that missing her correspondence would lead somehow to another incident between letters. Losing their mother had been hard enough.
He couldn't lose Robin. Anyone but her. Tears sting in his eyes.
"Please... Forgive me."
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"I'll always forgive you," she says, and dissolves into motes of light, leaving the hall empty but for laughter at the very edge of hearing, faint enough to doubt if it's truly there.
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Perhaps divine absolution.... Would THEY forgive him? Would He? There's a bitterness in that thought, something Sunday can't yet fully grasp.
The halovian can't look at her, but he knows she's smiling, can hear it in her voice. Light catches his eye, and he turns, watching her form begin to fade. The look of shock, heartbreak, is evident on his face. This hurts more than anything he'd just been afraid of.
She is as beautiful as ever, and he is as proud of her as he's always been. Her smile disappears, melting into light, as the pinprick of tears becomes an ache, and Sunday feels hot tears spilling down over his cheeks.
"Robin!"
Please don't leave.
And then he loses her entirely. Again. Gone like she'd returned. As always, they never had enough time.
Another trick from the Ship? Another ghost luring him away? Sunday is not sure, but the pain of her leaving him again is just as raw as ever. His arms cross tightly over his chest as he hugs himself, and his knees tremble before finally giving out under him. The halovian breathes deeply as he tries very hard not to kneel here sobbing, finally falling apart.
Sunday's never felt weaker, more vulnerable. Perhaps this was what he was when laid bare, a frail winged thing. Barely able to survive on its own, without meaning, direction, without a kind, firm hand to guide. What he believed to be at the core of all things, reflected within his heart.
no subject
"Dear me, chicken wing boy, has something in your glorious little plan gone wrong?"
Sparkle, wearing her own face, with a blithe grin, tossing and catching a ball in one hand.
no subject
The voice that accompanies those steps is familiar. Taunting him. His plan... The plan. The Charmony Festival.
Sunday turns to glower at the short woman. Now was not the time.
"Hold your tongue, Fool."
He hisses through gritted teeth. A tear still rolls down his cheek, even as he attempts to pull himself together. What did she know? What could she begin to understand?
He remembers moments, of her taking Robin's shape. Trying to speak to him, to play with his emotions. Offering to take her role, after Robin's demise. A fake caricature of the sister he loved. The thought disgusted him, but it allowed the Family to keep up appearances. He hadn't quite allowed it, never felt comfortable with it, but it worked, in the Dreammaster's eyes.
Who was he to fight? To question Him?
"It's very curious, that you happened to walk by just as I was having a... private moment to myself. Explain yourself."
Sunday remains on the floor, for the moment. He was already more than filthy, and he was still trying to pull himself together. His mind wanders, and chill courses through him, at the thought that Robin's disappearance, and Sparkle's appearance, could be connected. Had it been a trick of the Ship, or perhaps a bored, wandering Fool?
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cw: mild nsfw implications !!
His voice trails off. She didn't need to know that.
Sunday's ear wings flutter irritably at the emphasis on order. What did she know? What could she know. Years of separate teachings, lessons, his time as a Bronze Melodia. How the man who guided him, his ██████, had prepared him for this, every step of the way.
How his absence would ruin it all. Robin would never stand for it, he'd known that since he was a child. She deserved, better, anyways. It was all for her. He'd been made the perfect lamb, the perfect scapegoat, his sacrifice would keep her safe, happy, eternally well. He knew best, he loved her best.
And now... Sunday would not be there to see his lifelong ambitions seen through. Yet... all of it felt so far away. Had it not been close? Only days away? Hours? His grasp of events, while slowly improving, was also worrying him more. What had happened? Why?
Sparkle's voice crawls up his back. A private moment, in these surroundings. What was she insinuating? His feathers spread out in horror and disgust as he realizes she was implying he was sullying himself. He would never. Not here, not with this filth. He glares at her for even suggesting such a thing. Was he not a man of status, a man of class? Did she truly think so lowly of him? Think him so depraved?
"How dare you imply such a thing. How crass of you, Fool."
His words drip with venom, even as his wings still shield his lips from her gaze, that last trailing tear on his jaw. And yet, he was still on his knees. He stands, then, wringing his hands in disgust, discomfort.
Sunday has no desire to prove himself to her, but he turns anyways, allowing her to see that his hands were not in fact, down his pants, or touching any other part of himself inappropriately.
"I'll have you know that I would never disgrace myself in such a way."
Re: cw: mild nsfw implications !!
His feathers flare, and he glares at her--oh, she has struck a nerve. That's one to file away. "Aw, chicken wing boy, you're against even some good clean fun? How sad. Do THEY really prohibit you even that much? I'm sure I wouldn't know why anyone would want to sit in the lap of an Aeon who won't let them even have a... private moment. Does your paradise have everyone all buckled up in chastity belts forever and ever, dreamer?"
cw: mild nsfw implications !!
"I am not against it. The Family does not intervene in that sort of behaviour. We will take confessions, and give those who wish for forgiveness what they deserve, but it is not our place to interfere with anything that is not dangerous to the dream, or upsetting. I have taken enough confessions to know what some of our guests get up to in their free time."
He huffs, looking at Sparkle, disgusted by her words. She was very bold. The comments she makes, about him being in an Aeon's lap, and then chastity belts... Sunday's face flushes and his feathers fan out entirely, scandalized and in mild disgust.
"I am not prohibited in any way. I just respect myself and uphold my own modesty as I see fit, and refuse to do such things in public. There is a balcony here, anyone could look in."
Did she think him so immodest? So lowly? Sunday certainly had his own desires, but they certainly didn't involve being placed on display like some sort of show. He didn't have anything to prove to her.
"Besides. I had just had a peaceful moment with my sister, until she..."
Hadn't Sparkle just arrived immediately after his sister disappeared? She was redirecting him away from that topic. He's sure of it. His eyes bore into Sparkle, accusatory, now. Sunday was tired of the games.
"She disappeared. And then you came strolling by. Very convenient. Any theories as to why, Fool?"
Re: cw: mild nsfw implications !!
"But you didn't say just here, did you? You said you'd never sully yourself, never go so low--because you think less of people who have fun, don't you?" She pouts and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. "Terrible cruel of THEM, and you."
Are Sparkle's eyes glowing, or is it the light? "Oh, I'm sure I wouldn't know! I don't see a single feather of anyone but you. Besides, doesn't the sweet songbird like fun, and laughter? Terrible fit for your penal dream."
cw: mild nsfw implications !!
"So long as they are safe, above all else, and they will it... It's not for me to judge. I simply do not wish that sort of thing for myself."
He tried not to be judgmental, he tried to accept all as they were. But some people... They vexed him, upset him. Horrified him. Frightened him. He was thankfully, hidden behind a screen when he was a Bronze Melodia, within the confession booth. The confessors didn't see his expressions. They didn't get to experience his cleansing rituals after he was finished, scrubbing himself clean as he was burdened with fears and heavy thoughts that perhaps he may sin as they did. Like it were something contagious.
Not that it would matter, ultimately. He would get his way, his dream. And then have little else to himself. Watching over and guiding dreams he could not have himself. A life that would no longer be his. That was the true fate of the one who sang at the Charmony Festival, he remembers it more clearly, now.
And it was the reason he didn't want Robin to be trapped there, alone. Without him to step in, to protect her as her older brother.
"I... I don't have to prove myself to you. What matters is that I am pious, and orderly, within THEIR eyes."
So long as THEY would have him, so long as He felt him worthy, Sunday couldn't falter in his Path. It was none of her business what he did, be it... that sort of fun or not. And she would be the last one getting any details from him on what sort of joys he partook in. Sparkle was stretching his patience thin, now.
"She... She does. I know that she prefers freedom, above all else. But she would be safest there. I would let her dream whatever she wishes, whatever she desires, as I would for anyone. It would be anything she longed for. So long as she's safe, that's all that matters to me. I need her utmost safety, no matter the cost."
It wasn't a punishment. It was never meant to be a punishment. It was perfect, would be perfect. He could make paradise. He would.
"Her freedom has a price. She's nearly paid it with her life once already. I can't let that happen again."
no subject
"Oh, of course you don't have to prove yourself to me, little mourning dove. Not to me. The Laughter knows exactly what you're about--I wonder if you do?" And the Laughter does not approve.
And as for Robin... "Oh, but would it be whatever she longed for? The sweet little songbird has said clear what she wants, hasn't she?" Sparkle shifts into song, her voice a clear soprano that for once she isn't borrowing from Robin. "Someday, I'll make a dream unchained-- now, chicken wing boy, does that sound like she wants to live in your pretty, pretty dream of cages?"
no subject
Sunday looks at her, expression pained.
"If someone wishes to escape a loveless marriage, while I may not personally approve, who am I to step in and tell them no? If someone has lost their family, their homeland, and they can escape that crushing emptiness, through the Dream, should I stop them? Where does the line begin and end, Fool?"
He's not asking because he wants to know her thoughts on it. He's asking because he doesn't know the answer himself.
If the Dreamchasers were perfectly happy with how things currently were in the Dream, were they not? Why else would they remain? It had everything they needed. Everything they desired. Reality was painful, difficult. The Dream was simple, easy. Near perfect.
It would be perfect, when he had his way. He'd been guided in this direction for nearly his entire life. If his father believed... If so many others within the Oak Family also believed... surely, this was the correct way forward, wasn't it?
He had to believe in it. An outsider like Sparkle, a Fool... she could never understand. The years he spent, sitting in a confessional, hearing every awful thing someone had done. And asking them to recite prayers, and choose to do good deeds, to be forgiven in the eyes of the Harmony. How many times he'd been sick, had lost sleep, had become anxious and fearful at the thought of staining his soul the way they had solely through thought. Quiet prayers and trembling hands, begging forgiveness, mercy.
But then she asks of his sister, and her desires, singing Robin's song in her own voice. How she doesn't wish to live in a cage. He thinks of that little dove, dying outside of her window, how he'd wished to rush out and cradle it, and nearly had, when a firm hand had gripped his shoulder.
It was a lesson that had taken years for Sunday to learn, internalize. All living things needed to be safely contained. Robin wouldn't understand, but he knew it was best for her. For everyone under his wing.
It needed to be best.
"I have no need for other Aeons' approval, either. I sought an answer, and was guided to a final, proper conclusion. Nothing more, nothing less."
He closes his eyes, turning away from Sparkle. Facing the balcony once more. He wanted his sister to live, no matter what. She may be unhappy... but her safety. It was paramount.
"As long as she's safe... That's all that matters to me."
Their grief would be mild, in comparison to the absolute security of those within the Dreamscape. He had to focus on the bigger picture. This was their dream, wasn't it? Didn't she want this, too?
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She shakes her head, almost mournful, almost stern. "You can't carve everything forever in ice, mourning dove. And frozen things shatter." The Order isn't the Remembrace, but to freeze everything in perfection is what he's trying, despite.
"You'd rather she live, miserable, hating you, bound and chained, her light snuffed out? You'd rather she be a caged lark with no voice, never to sing again, never to see the sun, only the bars of the cage? The lark doesn't dream like you do, mourning dove, she dreams of open doors where you dream of shackles." Sparkle is more serious than she usually is, leaning forward as she looks up at his back. "Be careful what you wish for, mourning dove, when you're calling on greater powers, lest you awaken more than you bargained for."
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Sunday's voice shakes, as does his body. He doesn't understand. The dream was perfect. It had to be. It would be. And all would be welcomed, all would be safe, and protected under his benevolent gaze. It was what he had worked for, all these years, wasn't it? What he'd been prepared for, a role he'd been chosen for.
Was he not enough? Was there more work still to be done? When would he be enough?
"What is the point of living like this, if one day you can simply lose everything? What is the point of suffering, if there is only more suffering to be had, Fool?"
He doesn't know. He's floundering, searching for meaning where there wasn't any. He'd spent his life in the Dream, it was all he knew. Why would he ever desire anything else? What need did he have for reality, when all he needed existed in his slumber? Sparkle's words tear through him like thorns. The idea of Robin hating him, for this, for wishing to achieve their paradise, for following the words of their father...
Sunday draws his wings tightly around him. He'd done this, all of this for her. That was the point, that was his goal. If she hated him, at the end of it all... His fingers card through his feathers nervously, trying to ground himself.
"If I had to choose, between a life where she could be lost at any moment due to the cruelty of fate itself, or one where she hates me, for all I've done, but she is safe, above all else...." He pauses, the words on his tongue searing him worse than any hot iron he'd called upon anyone. "I'd rather she live, yes. No matter what it means."
Irregardless of any higher power. He didn't care what may hear his cries. He just needed his desires to be heard.