pluviooc | TEST DRIVE 02

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*tdm

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!

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The lounge area. He'd make sure to remember that.

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."

"The Ship seems to be somewhere in a mountain range at present, and unfortunately it takes the most directly path." So, yes, there is more up and down in their future, until they manage to get out of said mountains.

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.

A... mountain range. He'd heard that right. The Ship didn't seem to be flying, with how it moved around them It had legs. It was manually walking over mountains. Sunday found himself more than a little confused, even bewildered, realizing this. Well and truly, it may well be about as fantastical an idea as many things within the dreamscape.

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.

'Star system' is a strange turn of phrase, one that Neuvillette notes down to question later - his hearing is better than many people think, though he doesn't know if Sunday realizes that he was loud enough to be heard. The comment certainly doesn't seem to have been directed at him, which is good, because he has no idea what to make of it, aside from the obvious.

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."

Sunday thinks he can understand. His own worries about Penacony's future. The IPC inching ever closer, wishing to dig their claws into The Family's paradise. That Self-Annihilator, who wandered through his streets, who had cut down Aventurine, as well as damaged the layers between dreamscapes. The meme. That damned slovenly man.

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."

Neuvillette follows Sunday into the lounge, coming to stand at the edge of the overlook beside him. Out of mostly habit, his gaze follows Sunday's, up into the heavens - but, of course, there are no familiar constellations there for him, either. No Lapis Dei, with his spear pointed north; no Sapientia Oromasdis in her temple, nor Carmen Dei upon his lyre, nor Imperatrix Umbrosa holding court in the southern skies.

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."

After a few long moments of searching, for something, anything, Sunday's heart finds no peace. It's like looking into the face of a stranger for even the hint of a loved one. He doesn't understand what this entails for him-- A life so far from home. Responsibilities he'd been raised to carry, like dust in the wind, now. Was time different, between Penacony and here? How much time had passed?

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?"

Neuvillette gives the moon due regard - he knows less of the moon than he does of the stars, save that it trails after the sun on the same path and so is of great interest to astrologers. He does not pay as much attention to their arts as perhaps he should.

"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."

The expression Sunday gives the Iudex is something between confusion and disbelief. All planets and worlds were different, of course, but how strange.

"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."

"Partial eclipses happen on occasion. Astrologers ascribe to them the meaning of 'a doom narrowly avoided,' but I myself do not put that much stock in what the moon does. That said, the Cataclysm did also occur during a red moon's night..."

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.

"A... doom narrowly avoided? Ominious."

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?"

"I assure you, you need not concern yourself over giving offense. In my tenure as Chief Justice, I have been faced with both the vilest curses criminals can throw at me and the curiosity of tabloid reporters. A question asked in an honest bid for information simply cannot compare."

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."

Sunday shakes his head, disagreeing. He had not intended to be rude, but knew he had come off as such. He himself would not have appreciated being told something like that, and as such, he should correct his error.

"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?"

Now it's Neuvillette who shakes his head. "I would not have learned anything I know about humanity if I did not have so very many examples to compare," he says. "If the comparison can help either of us to find a new insight, then it is worthwhile."

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."

Neuvillette's smile caught his attention--- He hadn't yet seen an expression like that from the man. It seemed he'd asked just the right question. The answer had a few concepts that Sunday didn't quite understand, but what he could, was that Neuvillette was some sort of dragon, and that he was born somewhere that the Powers The Be could not reach. Effectively, a final remnant of the world before the Heavenly Principles had uprooted it.

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.

"There are probably more who know the truth than will actually admit it," Neuvillette says. "There is a children's rhyme said in response to rain which entreats the Hydro Dragon to shed no more tears, which has rather persistent popularity, and while guessing at my true nature is something of a national hobby, somehow the correct hypothesis never makes its way into the papers."

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?"

What an endearing little game. To be entirely honest, it wasn't... unlike the questions surrounding the identity of the Watchmaker. However, the Watchmaker was a dangerous entity, a profound stain on their peaceful, eternal Dreamscape, while this man... Well. He had a noble occupation, and served his people well, as far as Sunday knew.

Sunday was not one that was inclined towards skepticism towards authority figures (They knew best, didn't they?), and as such, was willing to take the man's words at face value. At any rate, even if he reached out with his halo to try to grasp what the other might be feeling, there is an air of genuinity that seemed to exude from the Iudex.

"Perhaps many have already figured it out, and are deciding to instead allow you the honour of declaring your nature yourself." Sunday suggests, a smile gently tugging at his lips. "You have been a constant in their lives for longer than they have been alive. Surely there is a deep respect for you in that."

And yet... there was a handful who wished to play along on board. Perhaps he would, too. Sunday wonders, faintly, who might have figured it out already, and who hadn't quite reached the conclusion just yet. If anything, it might be a chip to bargain with. ~~God, had that gambler rubbed off on him?~~

"A being of condensed emotion... I will keep that in mind. You really are an interesting man, dear Iudex. Are there specific emotions that linger in Hydro innately, or does it run off from other sources?"

He considered it a fair question, really. Sunday himself couldn't grasp the emotions in objects or simple energy, just living people. He wondered what that must be like, and if the Iudex were able to filter out the extra noise. But perhaps their empathy sense came from very separate means, as Sunday had been born with a halo that constantly emitted frequencies, his emotions gently thrumming through it, even if he lessened them to a dull whisper.

"My people.... We are relatively common, at least as denizens of Penacony. Every Halovian on the planet is part of The Family itself, with quite a few of us taking on responsibilities of some importance." He says, more than a little proud in having followed his adoptive father's footsteps. Sunday's voice leans soft and wistful, as he continues, "Throughout the universe itself? I couldn't say. My sister Robin is much more informed about the affairs outside our little star system than I am. She is often on tour, spreading songs of hope and Harmony to any and all that wish to hear."

"In some ways, they are more respectful of me than they are of our Archon. Furina is known to be... theatrical and occasionally undignified, and her relationship with the people has always been more intimate and casual in comparison to mine. Since the reputation of my position hangs upon the perception of impartiality, there is always some distance between myself and the people of Fontaine."

Despite the content of the words, there is some definite fondness to his voice when he speaks of Furina's closer relationship with the people. Neuvillette does not know how to make himself approachable in the same way, nor does he know if that's a thing that would be desirable in the current circumstances.

"It is largely the intensity of emotion that is a factor, though there is some bias towards the retention of negative emotions," Neuvillette says. "However, most living beings are predisposed to remember negative emotions themselves, so it is difficult to separate that out as a factor."

But as for the description, Neuvillette nods, and there's a slight dip in his smile as he says, "There are very few dragons on Teyvat, and no others of the Hydro element so far as I am aware. Melusines, an aquatic race native to Fontaine's waters, are dragon-kin, but not quite the same; their perceptions of emotion are not akin to mine. I love them dearly, but I am I suppose a little envious."

Fontaine's people held more respect for the Iudex than their own god. What did that say of the god? What did that say of their Justice? Sunday tries to compare this strange relationship between humanity and divinity and the true beings of that world to his own experiences, but he loses himself along the way, and realizes that perhaps his field of vision and his experiences have existed on an entirely too narrow scale. He considered himself well-read, and educated(The Family had ensured it.), and yet... His only frame of reference was well and truly the happenings on Penacony, and little else.

It's a thought that leaves him with some discomfort. Originally he was content to stay there, and watch his sister from the sidelines, from a safe distance. Now, he wonders if that has left him worse off than he might have been. It's not one he lingers too long on, for now.

"Of course. Personal feelings should never get in the way of maintaining one's society. All are capable of the same sins. Order means little, if you are lenient because you feel... overly attached."

There was a gentleness, a fondness, in Neuvillette's voice, however, as he speaks of his god's more... personal relationship with the humans she watched over. It's curious, but Sunday doesn't push the subject further. He wonders what a society would look like, with a god that mingled amongst their devout.

A god that answered, at all.

Thankfully, Neuvillette's musings on the emotions within hydro, and water itself, proved themselves to be a good distraction from that quieter, sadder thought.

"We really are, aren't we?" ~~The poor water. Look, it's got anxiety.~~ "To think our worries and fears carry through water itself."

And that same water then fed the world around it. Perhaps that was a more miserable way to look at it than he liked. Sunday found the idea interesting, even so.

No kin, no family to speak of. No wonder he had turned to the children of his race's usurpers, and joined their legal games. Sunday cannot imagine how lonely that must be. And even those that could be close to him, do not fully understand him. But he loved them, and cared for humanity, and maybe that was enough.

"Envious of them? Whatever for?"

~~The water only has anxiety because you do, Sunday.~~

"And so too do joys and sorrows," Neuvillette agrees. "Despite everything that has happened in the last four hundred years, I have no regrets in taking up this position. If anything, I might only wish that the other dragons have the chance to come to know humanity as I have."

He smiles lightly in response to Sunday's question. "Melusines are, by and large, an unburdened people," he says simply. "There is a strong bond of sisterhood between them, few as they are, and they have a place to which they know they can always return. To be naturally comfortable in any situation and surrounded by many supportive friends is something to be admired, is it not?"

Joys and sorrows. All emotions coalesced in water, in the energy that lingered within it. the concept was not all too strange, he thinks. Memoria had similar properties, and was water-like enough.

"I hope so." They deserved a chance, both humans and dragons, to create a world in which they were both welcome. Sunday wonders if the man before him knows of rest, of stepping back and simply enjoying all he had wrought. "I also hope you took some time for yourself, too. I can't imagine any of it was easy."

To live so freely, unburdened, with loved ones nearby... Sunday smiles gently, in return. The Iudex has managed to build a welcoming, safe society for his kin. The halovian can only imagine the work it had taken... And yet. Now, they seem to be comfortable, and truly happy.

Perhaps even if there was strife among the people of Fontaine, they were well sought after, taken care of by those in power. Hundreds of years of work... It makes him think of those who had come before, the Heads of the various Families, how they too had all strived to create a perfect world for their people. How they had united to establish Penacony and its Dreamscape.

"The effort you've put in to ensure they get to live well... It's admirable."

"It was not," Neuvillette says, "but at the same time, it was. There was only ever one decision I could have made, once I accepted the offer to come to Fontaine." As scripted as a play. Focalors was a deeply cunning god, as well as just. She knew his answer long before he did.

All of her being went into her finale. Cleaning up the theater afterwards is a task that falls to him, and not one that he resents.

"And I cannot take credit for all of that effort," he says. "There are others who have worked far harder and sacrificed more than I did, who have offered their freedom and their very lives to create this nation. All I do is my duty to ensure that their efforts do not go to waste."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TEST DRIVE 02

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attempts to shorten this fcking monster thread into something that doesn't make my eyes cross

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