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pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviooc2024-03-18 02:45 pm
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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.
tilty tilty
If it is water, that is. Before it reaches Sunday's feet, it vanishes.
Instead, there's a dull clunk - not footsteps, but perhaps the sound of a cane on the floor. (Indeed, that's precisely what it is, just outside of Sunday's line of sight - Neuvillette has a bit of an advantage in that regard, as far as maintaining his own stability.)
"I'm quite well, but I appreciate the concern," comes an unfamiliar, masculine voice - expressive, perhaps a little harried, but not in obvious distress. From the sound of it, it's in the hallway outside the room, around the door that at some point got knocked off its hinges by plant growth. "That's a question I should be asking you - I don't believe I recognize your voice."
A newcomer is more likely to be in need of assistance, really.
no subject
Something blue, flowing--- water? No, it glowed, seeps towards him, before vanishing in front of his eyes. A strange power over water itself? Curious.
"I'm glad you're well. I've been. Better."
Despite his obvious disgust with how filthy and sodden through he was, Sunday was nothing if not gracious. If he could not look physically put together, then he would have to rely on his behaviour to seem orderly.
The stranger seemed to be just beyond the door, perhaps the halovian could reach him, despite the drastic lean of the ship. Stretching his arms out, as well as the dark pair of wings at his waist, Sunday would use them to help keep his balance as he made his way towards the door, in the hopes of meeting up with the stranger.
When he'd lose his footing and slip back through the plant matter and soil, the beating of his wings would help him stay upright, even if he couldn't fly with them.
Eventually, he was close enough to the door frame to grab hold of it, folding his wings back around him tightly as he pulled himself through it, leaning back on the wall it was connected to. Sweat beaded on the back his neck from the effort of it all, but he was thankful, for a moment, that he had something to cling to.
Finally getting a glimpse of the stranger, Sunday is sure he'd never met this man in his life, which was about the only thing he was absolutely certain of, currently. A very tall, white haired man with lavender eyes, slitted pupils, and a very formal sort of garb. Almost reminiscent of his own, as well as a few others within the Oak Family, if he squinted. A cane in one hand, that must have been the sound from earlier, then.
He was in much better shape, with his robes barely creased, even in these conditions..... Sunday was almost jealous of his ability to remain untouched and pristine, like this. While Sunday himself looked quite a mess. Shameful.
"You are certainly not someone I recognize. I apologize for my unkempt appearance, I know it makes an awful first impression."
How deeply disrespectful of him, to both this stranger and his aeon. May THEY forgive his transgressions against THEM, as well as the gentleman before him.
"I did not expect to be on such a turbulent vessel today. My plans were.... Elsewhere. My name is Sunday. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. May I ask your name?"
no subject
It does mean that he's not going to be of any help for Sunday trying to get through the door, unfortunately. It's about all he can do to maintain his own position in the hallway.
Fortunately, the ship rights itself a little bit as Sunday begins to catch himself and get through the door - still tilted in the same direction, but now something that's maybe walkable. Certainly, Neuvillette's posture relaxes, and he's able to draw himself up straighter, no longer reliant on digging his cane in to a particular knot of roots.
His first impression of the young man is... interesting. Well-polished suit and obvious care put into his appearance, but not of any race that dwells upon Teyvat. Still, he's quick to dismiss the young man's concerns. "Not at all - to be honest, our laundry facilities, such as they are, are somewhat inadequate for the fashions I'm used to."
His clothes are fine, because they were developed from the beginning to be water-resistant and thus don't stain easily. Furina's have had a more difficult time.
"I don't believe anyone who has yet arrived here had done so of their own volition, either. The pleasure is mine - Neuvillette, Chief Justice of the nation of Fontaine on the world of Teyvat, though I don't expect that to have much meaning to you. We seem to come from a number of realities in this place."
no subject
The other man seemed to be hanging onto his cane for stability, so Sunday can't exactly blame the guy for not assisting him, especially with those heels. It seemed they were both ill-prepared for this sort of situation.
Inadequate laundry facilities... Great. Sunday is more than a little frazzled at the thought of it-- No, he could make do. He's sure he could make do. Even if he had to hand wash his clothing himself and somehow iron it to perfection, he would make do. He's experienced worse, had less power to his name before... This was just another test.
He wasn't going to let this be too much of a setback. He was a man with status, and philosophy, and determination. Even if he was just slightly sweaty and reeked of decaying plant matter, for the time being.
"I... can make do, I suppose."
Sunday's voice is just a little breathy as he sighs. Resigned to this.... Whatever all of this was. A misery invested with him in mind, he's sure. Some sort of divine punishment for some perceived slight, perhaps. He's not sure prayer or recitation of the scriptures would do him much good, right now.
"How many others are trapped here? This is no place for anyone."
Sunday's brows furrow and he frowns slightly, more than a little concerned. How long had this man and his companions lived here? Were there better, more livable areas here? Perhaps something untouched by all of this.... growth and dampness?
The halovian would love to find out, but he did have a duty to uphold. Since he could not be presentable, he needed to be cordial.
"Chief Justice... My, you certainly have a reputation, sir. I myself am Head of the Oak Family, as well as a representative of The Family on Penacony. You are very right, I have never heard of Teyvat, nor Fontaine."
A number of realities.... Like separate worlds? Or were the degrees of separation even beyond that? Could that perhaps explain the girl he'd seen?
no subject
"At this point, I'm uncertain - the number has grown by a handful in recent days, which is why I and a few others have taken to taking a check through the hallways." Being proactive and all that. "The initial group of us arrived two weeks ago, and number around a dozen. There do not seem to be any native inhabitants."
At least, none that are living - the Ship itself doesn't exactly count in that regard, nor, of course, do the ghosts.
"Nor have I heard of Penacony," Neuvillette says easily. The Family is generic enough to not be noteworthy, though coupled with the young man's name... Well, 'Sunday' would hardly be the most peculiar alias he's heard someone from a criminal background take, especially in the upper levels of such organizations. Not that it matters to him overmuch; despite what might expect from his reputation, Neuvillette has no particular hard feelings towards such organizations until they cross the line of harming his people.
"There are a few of us here from Teyvat, but most individuals seem to have no knowledge of each other or their worlds of origin otherwise. This one appears separate entirely - as far as I know, no one has recognized any of the names the Ship has given us, nor in fact the very language we're speaking now."
Quick check, Sunday, is your synesthesia beacon on? And were you paying attention?
no subject
"Around a dozen."
Curious. It wasn't wholly a significant number by any means, but if most of these people here were from worlds he could not recognize (What was a Teyvat?), it was safe to say that perhaps none of these people were Dreamchasers that somehow evaded his gaze, and therefore, were not harmed by a meme, or an emanator unchecked.
And no native inhabitants. An abandoned ship, with a group of people all mashed together, who either might know each other, or have no idea who the others are.... It was a confusing situation. Sunday could hardly wrap his head around it. His headache and the vague fog over his memories didn't seem to help matters, either.
"What about food, and water? This Ship... seems barely habitable."
The language they were speaking--- No, he hadn't paid attention. Sunday had been so focused on his own quiet misery, he'd completely missed that little fact.
Now that his attention had been drawn to it, he doesn't recognize the sounds coming from his mouth at all, despite understanding every word. It wasn't a concept unfamiliar to him, but to have something so... far beyond what he could normally gather, with little, if any loan-words....
There was no way this was the work of a single Self-Annihilator. This was something else entirely. An aeon? Something worse? Was he still under THEIR light? THEIR guidance? Had he fallen out of favor? What about Robin? The Charmony Festival?
That's a thought he tries not to linger on too long, but it sinks its teeth into the edges of his mind, where the headache laid.
"Surely there must be a reason all of us were chosen for... for this. Have any of you come across any clues?"
His voice is a little strained, leaning towards quiet. This couldn't be happening, could it? He was needed. Necessary. He couldn't... Sunday couldn't put it into words, into thought. He needed to be anywhere but here.
"When is the next stop?"
Robin.... What was it he needed to remember?
no subject
For Neuvillette, at least, this more than explains the state of disrepair. Upkeep of any space takes time and effort and energy; expending it to no purpose doesn't make sense, and the Ship seems to have at least some logic.
"There is some manner of intelligence which controls the ship, but it was just as surprised to see us as we were to arrive. Food - vegetarian, I'm afraid, so I hope your people aren't obligate carnivores - water, and a few other basic amenities are now functional, but we've had to wait for individual rooms. Areas such as this - " A gesture around them. " - seem to be lower-priority."
Despite these hallways apparently being the place where new arrivals arrive, the most care put into them has been by Neuvillette himself trying to get at least the hallways free of obvious mildew and grime. And that's largely for lack of anything else to do.
As for that last question... Neuvillette's expression is one of sympathy, though it would be difficult to tell unless you were familiar with him. It shows clearly in his voice, however.
"The Ship does not stop - though I doubt it would make any difference if it did. Thus far, there's no indication of a way to return to our worlds."
A hard thing to hear, no doubt, but one that must be said. In the moments after, there's a distinct bump before the ship levels out properly.
no subject
"Is there a means for me to ask the Ship questions myself? It's not that I don't trust you, I simply don't wish to burden you with every possible concern I may have about this.... arrangement."
Sunday figures his curiosities could be answered by the Ship itself, seeing as it had some manner of intelligence.
"Oh, no. We halovians are omnivores. I thank you graciously for the concern, however."
At least there was food, and water. The basics. Sunday himself was not wholly keen on living in squalor, and was already looking forward to disembarking at the next stop.
Until Neuvillette tells him there is no stopping. And no way home. The man's voice is sympathetic, but very straight with him. To the point. It... was a hard thing to hear. Sunday's heart sinks as his ear wings do, as the true reality of the situation setting in for him.
This was his life now: The Dreamscape long gone, his Family nowhere in sight.
Robin...
What would happen to her? He wasn't there, couldn't be there... He didn't understand what in him felt the urge to take her place. He was the one in her shadow, was he not? Why would he want that? Why was this a choice he wished to make? He was meant to organize the Charmony Festival. It couldn't go on without him at the heart of it, surely?
They wouldn't put her in charge, would they? She already bore so much. Why couldn't he remember what was so important about it?
"I... Understand. Thank you for telling me, Chief Justice, sir. I value your honesty."
The Ship finally levels out, and it's like he can breathe again, standing slowly upright, his dark wings pulled tightly around his waist in a sort of hug. The halovian gnaws quietly at the inner flesh of his cheek, tasting blood.
Another cage. Another impossible situation he couldn't escape from.
"Would you be so kind as to show me the way to the upper floors? Is... there a way to view the sky here?"
no subject
for yknow mod character reasons.Neuvillette gives Sunday the moments of silence he needs to get his thoughts together, afterwards - it's easy enough, and he has plenty of patience for a young man who is clearly Going Through It. He is poor at comfort, all the more so when he can't be sure that the rules he's built to manage humans may or may not apply, but he can manage this much. A supportive silence and a simple request.
"You would be hard-pressed to miss it," Neuvillette says, keeping his voice calm, kind. "There is a protective bubble surrounding the ship, but the top deck is open - aside from the canopy of plants - and the living area has a lounge with a glass ceiling. The elevators and stairs are further down the hallway - the former has a bit of difficulty with the tilting, so we may wish to hurry a bit if we hope to get there before the next time the ship arrives at an incline."
no subject
Being unable to return home for the time being. Stranded on this... Ship, this damned vessel. He had a Festival to host. A Dreamscape to oversee.
A sister-- He'd left her all alone. She needed him. It was a burden she didn't deserve to bear. One much too cruel for her. If it wasn't him.... then the onus would fall on her, and. Sunday's hands shake, and he breathes deeply, trying to keep himself calm, rational.
There was a way, he was sure of it. This was just another test of his faith, his loyalty, his determination. The concept of Robin's well being on the line was not.... an unfamiliar thing to him. And yet.... Who else but he? Sunday had copied out the scriptures from childhood, he'd studied them, breathed them, lived them. He was the lamb, he was to lay very still and bare his throat, and he was to be, above all things, perfect. It was his burden, and his alone.
The idea that another, that Robin could also be chosen in this way, felt wrong to him. Unfair, cruel. She had so much ahead of her. She always had. But was Robin alive or dead? Sunday's memories couldn't decide, and he could see her body lying in her pool just as clearly as he could feel her arms around him like a lifeline.
Most of Neuvillette's words pass through one ear and out the other. Sunday would not permit himself to fall apart in front of this kind stranger, and he tries to pull himself together. He'd asked a question, hadn't he? He'd felt so choked by the dark hallways, all of a sudden. He still did.
"You... said there may be more tilting? Let's not waste too much time, then. The stars, are they recognizable to anyone?"
They can walk and talk. Sunday gestures to the other gentleman, encouraging him to lead the way.
It's worth a shot, though he knows his odds are nil. Perhaps seeing the planet for what it was, and not just relying on another's words to describe the severity of the situation to him might... He's not sure what it would do. He needs to see the sky. He would never feel it again, but perhaps seeing it would be enough.
"I... Thank you for your company. I am not normally in such a sensitive state. My duties were interrupted, and my absence has likely laid them upon the shoulders of my younger sister."
no subject
Neuvillette leads Sunday down the hall in the direction of the elevators - the walls are somewhat cleaner as they progress, though the general environment remains dark and human. The ship's emergency running lights, at least, are on, since they don't seem to cause the same reaction from the plants as the full lights - intermittent lines of diodes that turn on in a pattern moving towards the stairs, when they can be seen at all.
"No one has mentioned recognizing the stars, to my knowledge. They certainly aren't any constellations that I recognize." It seems a slightly odd question, to Neuvillette, and it sounds to a limited extent in his tone. Certainly, navigation by the stars isn't unknown to him - nor is the tracking of the condition of certain esteemed personages - but it doesn't occur to him that that would be a worthwhile thing to check in relation to one's location. Even the Geo Archon's stars will eventually go out, after all (and woe upon many ship navigators when they do, no doubt).
"It is no trouble," Neuvillette tells him, as they near the elevators. There's slightly more light here, though it is in the form of red lights over each pair of elevator doors - the red, it seems, doesn't affect the plants so much. "I understand completely. Fontaine's previous leadership relinquished her role quite abruptly, leaving the nation in my sole care. I can only hope that the people she entrusted to me are safe in my absence."
And hope that if Celestia's wrath falls upon Fontaine, the Traveler and perhaps the Knave take appropriate measures. Neuvillette has no desire to see the Nation of Hydro annexed by Sneznhaya - indeed, the thought is appalling - but better that than another Khaenri'ah. He is all too keenly aware of what happened to the last nation without gods.
no subject
He... supposed it broke up the monotony of the trip. Sunday still wasn't quite sure whether to accept the gentleman's explanation at face value, but seeing as though he had no other frame of reference, and the man had been quite possibly the kindest he'd met in some time... Well. Sunday supposed he would be foolish not to put some faith into the Justice's words. To be be very honest, it did explain quite a lot.
Sunday keeps pace with the taller man, though his arms and wings are drawn tightly around him, so that he was better prepared in case the Ship began to tilt once more.
No one had mentioned recognizing the stars. But he's also not sure if there was anyone from the same star system here, anyways. If he were still near Asdana... Perhaps he wouldn't quite be able to see the Torment Eagle constellation, but there were others beyond Penacony's inner rings. Like the Great Tree.
He might not even recognize them, at a different angle, and depending on how far away he was, the stars within it may not even exist. It wasn't often that he left Penacony, let alone the dream itself... But he had to try.
"Maybe we aren't far, maybe we're still within the star system..."
Sunday is mostly talking to himself, hoping that perhaps if he turned to look out a window, his home would still be there, luminous, resplendent. Hoping that maybe all was no lost, that he could find a way back, some means to communicate with The Family.
That maybe Robin wasn't yet out of his reach.
The Justice shows that he does indeed understand, and as much as Sunday feels for the gentleman's situation, he's almost glad, to have someone that did understand how he felt about all of this. That someone could relate to the gravity of his situation. As horrible as it felt to think so. None of these passengers needed to be here. They had duties. People that relied on them. Those that valued them.
And then there was him.
"It's a shame to have been granted such a heavy burden, just to find yourself in circumstances where your people cannot reach you. It must be difficult for you. It's regrettable that you've been caught up in this as well."
When they reach the elevators, Sunday is thankful for the red lights, allowing a bit more visibility. He reaches forward and presses the button, he is thankfully familiar enough with elevators to know what to press.
"Which floor is it? I don't wish to keep you, if you have any other pressing worries to attend to, but. I do appreciate your company, if you don't mind sticking with me for a little while longer, Chief Justice, sir."
As vulnerable and miserable as he looks, his words are even more so, his expression soft, even managing a small smile. Sunday's not quite sure the last time he'd bore his heart on his sleeve so openly like this.
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They are, indeed, far from this young man's home. Tied to the Primordial Sea as he is - or rather, unmoored from it as he is, at this moment - Neuvillette is confident enough to say that they are not within the bounds of Teyvat. And it is more logical to him to assume that they are somewhere entirely distant from all known places, rather than a place that might be known to one of their number but not the others. After all, logic equally dictates that if they were close to someone's world, it would be the world with the most representation among the unhappy passengers, which circles back around again to the lack of the Primordial Sea in his senses.
And that is entirely without consideration of the strange factor of the time discrepancy between himself and Tartaglia and Furina and the scholar. Those places which lie outside Teyvat may lie outside of its flow of time, and there have certainly been anomalies - only a few years ago another scholar in Sumeru made the papers for resurfacing after being lost for a century - but none such as this, where events had transpired for one person but not another.
At least not so far as he has ever heard.
"I have every confidence in the people of Fontaine to handle the transition with their usual high spirits," he says, "and to maintain the day-to-day operations of the nation in my absence. I am and always have been blessed with able helpers in that regard. However, there are things beyond its borders from which I cannot protect Fontaine if I am not present, and that matter concerns me far more."
It would take a great deal more explaining to bring the true source of his worries out - one must explain the Seven, and Khaenri'ah, to explain his well-founded fears for what happens to godless nations. He would not put it past Celestia to bring its wrath against Fontaine while he was there; with the Throne of Hydro broken and its Authority missing, there is nothing at all to protect either nation or Primordial Sea.
But this young man has enough of his own concerns without being weighted down by the fate of another world, so Neuvillette adds, "But do not feel troubled on my behalf, nor as though you are imposing. There is little I can do for the matter from here, after all, and so I do my best to focus upon other things."
The elevator door dings at that point, allowing the two of them to step inside. Neuvillette says, "Floor zero is the main deck, which opens into the cafeteria - which will close soon for the night, if you have need of anything to eat or drink besides the tapwater - and residential floor four is the location of the lounge. I'm afraid you'll have to choose a single destination; the elevator has a secondary function which is a bit beyond our needs at the moment."
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It had all given him one hell of a headache, even before he arrived here, and officially became powerless to stop any of these moving parts from doing as they will with the Dream, with Penacony as a whole. The worry crystallized in his chest.
Something rises, from the fog of memory, his own confusion about the series of events. He could not be a scapegoat, were he not present. What an interesting thought. It's not one that soothes him.
The Family would prevail. He had to believe so.
"I... Understand. Truly. I suppose it is best to simply... have hope, and faith." In both his people and his Aeon. "And I thank you for your company, sir."
The cafeteria... Sunday considered eating, for a moment. Letting himself rest. But he didn't find himself to be particularly hungry, not with everything that had happened so far. The filth over his clothes had put him off the idea entirely, to be truthful.
Reaffirming his choice, he orders the elevator to take them to R4.
When they reach their desired floor, he motions for Neuvillette to step out first, before doing so himself. The floor spreads out in front of him, a much cleaner glimpse of the one he'd arrived on. The ceiling is domed, and clear, and offer him more than a sky's worth of stars to observe.
Sunday's eyes widen, and he tries not to worry, swallowing back his fears of the sky not at all being what he'd rested his hope on. He knows it's a futile dream. It's the only one he has, now. He's more than content to walk alongside Neuvillette until they reach the lounge, where the ceiling would open up, and allow him a better view of the sky around them.
The first thing that catches his gaze is the moon, all but carved through by a massive crater, chunks of its surface floating around it, still skirting along within its gravitation. The blanket of stars, even more expansive than Penacony's. Beautiful, breathtaking. His wings flutter gently, in awe of the sight.
The more Sunday searches, the more he's certain: This is nowhere near Asdana. Nothing here was familiar to him. None of the constellations he knew could be found, and he could not ever remember seeing a moon so ravaged. He still looks, though. He still tries, not wanting to give up hope.
Eventually, after a few long moments, he closes his eyes, resigned to his fate.
"None of this is familiar to me. I can't find any of the constellations I grew up searching for. But it is beautiful."
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No Cerberus, nor Rapperia, nor Rosa Multiflora. No sharp-clawed Ignis Purgatorius, nor her children. And of course, no Animula Choragi nor Damocles Sola.
No Leviathan Judicator, the proof of his will, nor of any other will in the heavens. He cannot help but look, anyway.
"It is beautiful," he agrees quietly. Though it's true beauty, perhaps, he could not explain. The sight of a sky without Celestia hanging low over his nation - a sight that has not been seen by any on Teyvat since before perhaps even his predecessor's time. Neuvillette had never put thought to it before arriving here, but now, of course, he cannot help but wonder what that sky looked like. "But bittersweet, in the absence of all the familiar faces, nonetheless."
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And what of Robin? The idea of leaving her there makes him feel more than a little sick. But she was home, wasn't she? And the Charmony Festival, it was meant to be theirs, was it not? They'd been raised for this. So why did the idea of Robin standing alone on that stage unsettle him so much?
He sighs softly, closing his eyes. He needs to have faith. In his sister. In his Family. Why did he feel like he'd just lost everything? This was surely just... a temporary setback. He would either be found, or make his way home. He had to believe so.
Who would come looking?Neuvillette's voice breaks him out of his musing, specifically how he spoke of what Sunday assumed to be the constellations. It was an odd way to word it. It brings Sunday a quiet moment of pause. Was this Iudex also as familiar with his own stars as Sunday and Robin had been? Or perhaps there was something... more?
"It is beautiful. I have never seen a moon so damaged. I can't help but wonder if whatever hit it is the reason this land is so inhospitable." To be fair, he'd not seen many moons outside of books. He draws his eyes away from that wonderful, isolating night sky, looking over at Neuvillette, curious. "May I ask what you mean by.... Familiar faces?"
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"Teyvat's moon does not wax and wane so," he says - the words sound a touch foreign in his mouth, and not just because they're in the boat's language. The concept doesn't exist in the language now spoken across Teyvat. "Even aside from being whole, it sits nearly in direct opposition to the sun. The only time it goes dark is during an eclipse."
And those are rare, though he knows - by some circumstantial evidence - that there was one some twenty-six years past. But it seems to be the stars Sunday is more curious about, and he has no reason no to answer.
"Teyvat's stars are bound to 'fate,'" Neuvillette says. "As such, constellations come and go, in response to those that such fates weigh most heavily upon - the gods and those who have been shown their favor." He pauses, and then says, "I suppose I never gave much thought to what the sky would be like in a world without them."
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"You mean to tell me that despite sitting directly opposite to the sun, with Teyvat in between them both... that Teyvat not once casts a shadow upon the moon's surface outside of a total eclipse?" Sunday's voice is... Bewildered. Skeptical, even. "I don't wish to discredit your experiences, but I find that.... Difficult to believe."
Sunday of course, was no real scholar, but had always been a highly curious, inquistive person. The Family's knowledge had always been something he'd reached for with ready hands. It was to be shared, and Sunday had always been an eager learner. And as far as he knew, the laws of reality and light did not bend like that.
When he's told that the stars are bound to fate specifically the fates of real, living people, Sunday's brows furrow, and his expression becomes one moreso of dismay, than anything else. Just what was Teyvat like? Why was it this way? He doesn't expect Neuvillette to have all the answers, or any, really.
"The... stars. The constellations. You say they're bound to the fate of individual people in Teyvat? They aren't just... clusters of stars given shape and meaning through stories?" He pauses, grasping for an example, "In the Asdana system, we have the Torment Eagles. They are very much just normal stars, near-irrecognizable unless you know what to look for, but those of us within Penacony's rings gave them shape and meaning through passing down stories about them to our children. If you are lost, you can determine where you are based on the season."
Sunday tries to understand, and fails. It made no sense to him. And for fate to be both so set in the stars and also flimsy enough to simply disappear? What happened to the stars within those constellations? What was the purpose of this? Why would their gods choose such a temporary means of declaring their favor? There was no order, no constance, how did anyone know the name of specific constellations if the state of them seemed to be ever-changing?
It was too much work. Too confusing. His mind searches for a logic that simply was nowhere to be found.
"...And they fade out of relevance? How could your people have possibly navigated? What happens when a constellation fades? Do the stars remain?"
Sunday paces back and forth, feathers ruffling. More than a little perturbed. He looks out into the night sky, and the world around him feels even less familiar than before. The halovian finally turns to Neuvillette again, concern clear on his face.
"I apologize, Chief Justice, sir. I simply... It sounds... Contrived. Fake. Stars don't just... do that."
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Explaining the fall of Khaenri'ah is, however, not critical to the current subject, so for now Neuvillette turns his attention back to the matter of the constellations.
"As 'individual people' includes the gods and some other small number of immortal beings, navigation by the stars relies upon those constellations, rather than those of mortals whose stars fade away upon their deaths. In particular, Lapis Dei - the constellation representing the Geo Archon - points north, and so is well-known for sailing." A bit ironic, that, that the god of stone is so relied upon by those who ply their trades on the water, even outside of Liyue's own able sailors. "It has been set in the same place in the sky for more than six thousand years; the Geo Archon is the oldest being on Teyvat, so far as most people are concerned."
Of course, that doesn't mean that's truly the case, but the matter of the Dendro Dragon has no impact on the constellations. Unlike Neuvillette, she is withdrawn from the world of humans.
"You have no need to apologize," Neuvillette says. "There is... much about Teyvat that was once very different, before the arrival of the Heavenly Principles and the creation of the gods. The matter of the stars is... simply one aspect of that which I had never considered. If anything, I should be thanking you."
He turns his gaze - in the dim lighting, his irises are rather reflectively lilac, almost glowing - away from Sunday and back towards the sheet of stars beyond the glass. Now that he has had the thought, it will not disappear.
A pity there is no one he can ask, if this sight is similar to the one his long-ago kin saw in their night sky.
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Deeply so. He feels more than a little unsettled by the thought. Were Teyvat's eclipses not just eclipses, but something resembling real-world disasters? But if the Teyvat sky was truly... contrived, and possibly even fake, perhaps a total eclipse was a demonstration of some form of divine will?
Perhaps he was leaning too heavily on the divine.
The answer to his question though was thankfully, very simple: Navigation was achieved through a constellation that had existed through many human lifespans. It made sense, and was similar enough to his own understanding of constellations, that he felt that he didn't quite need to ask about it.
For a quiet moment, he wonders how thousands of years translate to Amber Eras, but he decides against getting into that.
The Heavenly Principles? Creation of the gods? He knew of how Aeons could form, how one could simply become, under the right circumstances. But what sort of world was this?
"I just don't wish to sound disrespectful. You've also given me a few things to think about, as well."
Neuvillette turns his gaze from him for a little while, seemingly mulling over the questions Sunday himself had instilled in him. The halovian allows him that moment of peace, that quiet pondering, reflecting on his own buzzing thoughts for the meantime, as well.
After a good few moments, Sunday speaks again.
"The stars we're looking at right now... because of how light travels, and the great distances between us and the stars themselves... We are effectively looking into the past, currently. Any number of these stars in the distance could be dead or dying, at this moment, and we would never know."
The halovian casts his gaze back over to Neuvillette, his expression somber, more serious, and much less frazzled than before. Collecting his thoughts and asking the one big question on his mind.
"I don't wish to quiz you on your own world, but... I have my own musings, when it comes to gods, myself. The implication of the word 'creation' is that there is another hand at play, in regard to Teyvat's gods. How did they come to be?"
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He prefers the criminals to the tabloids, honestly. There is a certain honesty, too, to those who curse those they hold responsible for their fates that he appreciates, even if it's really a fate they brought upon themselves.
But as for the meaty question... Neuvillette's gaze remains distant for a time, on the stars, before focusing back down on Sunday before he speaks.
"A very long time ago, Teyvat was a world which was home only to elemental dragons and their lesser kin. One day, a being of unknown origin arrived from outside Teyvat, and usurped the power of the dragons, killing many of them in the process. That stolen power was used to alter the world to be more hospitable to the creations of the usurper, which included humans and another of other races. The usurper then created gods to rule over mortals, giving unto them seven Thrones created from the power it had stolen, and retreated into the heavens. As this history predates humans, and the few dragons that remain generally recluse themselves from the world ruled by the Heavenly Principles, there are only a handful who know that such a time even existed."
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"No, it was still improper of me. I am none of those things, nor do I wish to treat you as though I am some sort of... brute." He says, closing his eyes and bowing his head in a show of respect. "Your experiences within your world are valuable. I should not be comparing your world to what I know of my own."
He gives Neuvillette as much time as he needs to answer, choosing to gaze out over the stars as well, for a quiet moment. He only returns Neuvillette's gaze when he's sure the other is looking at him. Listening carefully as he speaks, rather than letting his thoughts and assumptions get the better of him.
Hearing about the great injustice that had befallen the dragons on Teyvat, Sunday wonders exactly where the gentleman before him falls on this scale, to be aware of so much. The information is interesting, and it fills Sunday with sorrow to know that there was so much bloodshed in the creation of these gods. How this stranger had completely overturned their world into their image...
Then again, it sounded vaguely familiar. Harmony had not been enough, on its own. It couldn't create a paradise, if Robin had still been shot while within Xipe's arms, right? Sunday's wings twitch. He'd chosen the right path. He had to believe so.
"You say only a handful of people are aware of this history... May I ask how you happened upon it? For a single being to overturn your world in this way, how would one even begin to pick up enough pieces to solve the truth of that world?"
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As for Sunday's question... Neuvillette's face shifts to a smile that shows perhaps a bit of mischief.
"Even after all that the Heavenly Principles have done to alter the world and control it, they cannot prevent new dragons from being born, especially in places that they cannot see or influence. I myself was born within the Primordial Sea, after Egeria, the one and only god the usurper ever placed there, was summoned from her place to rule over the nation that would become Fontaine."
The ship tilts just a little forward, not enough to make them slide but enough to give Neuvillette an excuse to break eye contact. Looking away, he says, "Of course, that is not common knowledge. Although you would be hard-pressed to find a citizen of Fontaine who does not know that I have been a constant in the nation since before their grandparents were born, there are only a handful who know of my origins. Most dragons are quite large and of shapes better suited to their elemental power, and humans fear them for good reason."
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Sunday's own experience with dragons was... Well. Nil.
Hadn't there been one of Long's scions on the Express?Why did that come to mind? Where had he picked that up?The memory of something sharp, running him through. Whatever had attacked that stowaway. Surely whatever that meme had been didn't count. Why did he remember it-- touching it-- Better than the face of the man he'd been accusing? He'd unpack all of that later, when he had a moment to himself.
The forward tilt of the ship is not enough for him to lose footing, but he does startle, all four of his wings fanning out, his eyes wide. It shakes him from his thoughts, and as quick as it happens, it's over, and Neuvillette is no longer looking at him as though they were sharing a secret.
"Understandably so. I am glad, however, that the first dragon I've met is you."
Sunday doesn't wholly want to presume anything of the other, but he does find the shape his body had taken to be an interesting one. Perhaps due to the fear humans held for them, the one in front of him had chosen to walk among humans as one of their own. But-- He finds asking about Neuvillette's current form rude, so he won't pry. Far be it from him to point it out and ask why, when his own father took on many shapes and forms over the years. There are some things one simply shouldn't ask of a stranger. The reality that the Iudex is a dragon is a very easy one to accept given the prior history lesson, and Sunday thinks little of it.
"I suppose it is a little easier to reveal that here, rather than before a nation of people you have multiple lifetimes of rapport with, then?"
Seeing as though they all seemed to be on the same footing here, and quite a few of them seemed to be from entirely different worlds, Sunday supposes it was a good idea to have a baseline of everyone's status and abilities. They may all be trapped here much longer than any of them needed to be.
"I myself am halovian. Using my halo, I may transmit my thoughts and emotions to any others of my race, and they can do the same in kind. I can use it to speak to and understand the emotions of other people, even those who do not have halos, though the communication cannot be both ways. I am also able to restrain others, if absolutely necessary."
His wings were more vestigial than anything.
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And you really would think that, by the most important factors combined, it would, at least if you were the sort to pay attention to the weather after a particularly difficult court case a time or three. The Traveler grasped it after only a few short months in Fontaine. The only logical presumption, then, is that there is at least one editor at the Steambird who is perfectly aware of the game, and steps in whenever it is at risk of being spoiled for others.
"And there are a handful here who seem to wish to play along - or at the least, are accepting of a more oblique answer." And in its way, it's a useful gauge of who has good ability to read between the lines and apply the logic that makes those two statements related. Neuvillette is perfectly content to leave things unsaid on certain matters, after all.
He listens with interest as Sunday describes the nature of his race. "Interesting. Though it may well be both ways in my case - I suppose I should give you due warning that the Hydro energy which composes the majority of my person is in fact the energy which carries emotion, in Teyvat. The children's rhyme regarding the rain being the tears of the dragon is in fact quite true in the literal sense." It's only fair to warn the young man, if he has similar abilities - though it's rare that Neuvillette gets swept away by the emotions of others himself, he also has several millennia of being what he is. "Are your people common in your world?"
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