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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.
no subject
Sunday's skin crawls. He just wants to be... Somewhere dry, and relatively clean. And something to wear that isn't doused in soil and plant matter. And perhaps a mirror, to make himself presentable. At least if his appearance was tailored, orderly, clean... He could pretend he had some degree of control over what was happening to him. For even just a little while.
"Your actions.... In trying to destroy my Dreamscape? Or successfully getting yourself killed?"
There's almost a quiet bemusement in his reply, like it was funny in a sort of twisted, strange way. He'd been more than aware of Aventurine's attempts on his own. There wasn't a corner of the Dreamscape that truly existed removed from the halovian's watchful eye.
The sea of Nihility.... Cracks, in his paradise. He knew it wasn't wholly perfect. Not yet. But it... It would be. He would create that paradise he and his sister sought. He'd promised her.
He couldn't put it all on her shoulders. Not like this. Not with him ending up... Here. Wherever this was.
Sunday had always feared gazing at the parts of Penacony that only existed in his memory now. Afraid of what he might find. What he might not. There would always be horizons he would never quite be strong enough to gaze upon, and those were the ones Robin always travelled to.
He was not a man who took suffering well, be it his own or others. Even the example he made of Aventurine, while done in a moment of quiet, sadistic glee, was not wholly easy for him to watch. Though fascinating, Sunday was almost sure he'd had him. What a loyal Family member Aventurine could have made, too.
He was almost disappointed, at the time, even despite the very flashy show. Now, with the man in front of him, very keenly gloating in Sunday's own quiet despair.... Well. He does deserve it, doesn't he?
Sunday's eyes glance at the offered vine, unsure of what to think about the man. About all of this.
He did sentence Aventurine to death, after all. It would only be too easy for a man that knew this vessel better than him to simply, misguide him. But Sunday knows he doesn't have that many options, currently. And with the way his head was pounding, he wasn't truly in a place to fight about it.
Birds that fall together... The words made something in the halovian stir. His teeth dig into the inner flesh of his cheek.
"I... Suppose we could."
Reluctantly, he grasps the vine, using it as a means to pull himself toward the outcropping, so he might get on Aventurine's level. He unfurls his wings to keep his balance, eventually pulling himself up onto it, next to the blond.
"My.... memories are confusing. I remember certain events, but not the time they occurred. This... Vessel has left me more than a little scatterbrained. Your memories seem much more... in order than mine."
Something told him it wasn't just this. There was more, wasn't there? If only he could remember.
He's being a brat, but at least a helpful one
Smile firmly in place, his eyes narrow at Sunday's jab at his...investigations on "death" in Penacony. Of course he knew the Family knew. Of course. But to put it like that..."I mean the fact that Penacony didn't fall to pieces from Acheron's strike, for one. You know she could have done that, right? But I didn't want that either, because what would the IPC have to salvage?" He sets his cheek back on his palm. "I just wanted a crack to slip through, and for your deluded citizens to actually start thinking for once. My power took the brunt of that attack." He gestures to himself, then to Sunday. "Also the fact that you and I are more or less alive. There's also that."
He probably shouldn't explain his whole plan to Sunday. Probably. The Halovian's arrogance is what he was betting on to help him succeed after all. The Harmony effect was...unexpected, but he thinks of the shards of the cornerstone Sunday was so sure he had, now nestled safely in his pocket...
Instead he notes the guy's trepidation over the vine. "Come on, there's no light on so it won't be moving." Hopefully. He considers Sunday a moment more. "And if you're worried I'll push you off or something for putting Harmony's noose around my neck, I won't," he chuckles, making a 'cross my heart' gesture with his free hand. "I tell all my clients to use me as they wish. Help me, betray me. Whatever. You did just that." His tone is flippant, but his eyes seem to glow with a steady intensity. "I got what I wanted in the end too, so as far as I'm concerned, it's water under the bridge."
Now if his nightmares could get that memo...
He watches quietly as Sunday climbs up to join him on his perch. His eyes do widen a little seeing the dark wings flap around at his waist. He didn't know he had those, he thought they were just...a vest design? Huh...small for flight, sure, but even then they only seem to help his balance, forget trying to fly with them. Still. Definitely worth noting.
When the Halovian climbs up to the outcropping, he smiles, making no sudden movements, just continuing to lounge on the ledge. Don't want to startle the poor bird into falling off. He tilts his head in thought. "Well, I know over exposure to Memoria can cause some memory issues. I thought you as the Family head were immune to that, though..." he muses. "Maybe you hit your head when you got here?" his eyes scan the man, again looking for possible head injuries. All he can see, however, is alot of mud, dirt, and grime...some sweat too, which is something he wasn't. Even sure Sunday could do. He seemed too put together to sweat like common mortals.
It's definitely the most frazzled he'd ever seen Mr. 'I fix my outfit before I ever leave the house', which must be why he looks so disgruntled. Aventurine sighs. "Sorry I can't help your timeline much, feather head. I wasn't really in your Penacony anymore to see what happened after. My memories may be more in order, sure, but they consist of alot of...blackness and void." And drowning. "And now a ship! Which I can see you're getting rather familiar with yourself," he adds, snickering lightly.
no subject
A memory pushes its way to the forefront of his mind, of being told she had been ousted from their paradise... But when? From who?
Aventurine admits what he'd all but known: the IPC's goal was to claim Penacony. They hadn't even attempted to engage in the festival with goodwill. It fills his mouth with a bitter taste, but he doesn't lash out, nor blame Aventurine. They both had another, lurking overhead, demanding they follow orders. Sunday's had just happened to █████ him.
"I bestowed the consecration of Harmony onto you in the hopes that if you did decide to lie, perhaps you would stand as an example. A threat, moreso, that I would continue to steal away the IPC's Stonehearts if they did not comply with our rules. You having taken those Cornerstones with you may as well have been a declaration of war."
Sunday's voice is level, serious, but not accusatory. Simply explaining the circumstances. He doesn't expect understanding, or forgiveness, not really, but. He feels that the other man deserves to know his intention behind it, at the very least.
"You can see why I had hoped you were an honest and generous man, when I requested your audience. But I suppose... Ultimately it didn't matter, if we are both here."
Sunday is still not sure if he trusts the Stoneheart, even with the other's words, the crossed heart. Use me as you wish, help me, betray me... What an awful life to lead. But seeing as though he now stands on that outcropping, and the other has barely made a move, and seems to have no intention of pushing him and leaving him to fall... Sunday eventually lets go of that vine.
Water under the bridge... Perhaps so.
Aventurine seems to study him for a bit, checking for injuries, specifically his head. But Sunday... couldn't remember hitting his head. To be fair, that didn't mean that he hadn't, somehow.
"I... I don't believe it's the Memoria. I've been around it all my life."
Perhaps that was more damning than anything else he could have said, but the memory issues... surely they would have posed a problem long before now, right? Either way, it seemed to be here to stay. Along with this ship, as Aventurine helpfully points out.
"Yes, the ship. I've become much too familiar with it. I would like to be less familiar with it, actually. Particularly the muck and grime."
Sunday doesn't even try to hide the layer of disgust in his voice.
"I... Thank you, for offering your perspective, Mr. Aventurine. My unsightly state aside, as well as the possibility of head trauma... Have you seen anyone else thus far?"
no subject
"Heh. Concecration. Does it usually hurt that much? I still get headaches, you know," he says, shoulders tense, smile wide and sharp. "Steal the IPC'S stonehearts...huh. You know you were pretty vague at the time. What exactly would have happened if your "Consecration" was left to finish its work?" Would the noose have tightened and killed him if Acheron didn't cut it in time? Or would it have...turned into a new leash...
He feels a little sick thinking about it.
He does appreciate the attempted explanation, twisted as it seems to him. He shrugs. "I am honest and generous! You wound me Mr. Sunday," he laughs, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I had my cards to play, and you had yours. Very engaging game, I must say." He smirks."Even if your poker face could use some work." He can tell the Halovian makes an effort to control his face and wings, but he can still see them twitch here and there...
He raises an eyebrow about the memoria. "All your life, huh? Did you ever get the chance to live outside of Penacony, or at least travel a little?" Odd. He'd think that would help build a well rounded leader...then again. Growing up sheltered explains a few things about the guy, he supposes.
He does note the Sunday's disgust over all the grime. Makes sense. Aventurine valiantly does not laugh at his disgruntled face, or how his feathers puff up as if to shed the filth themselves.
"Sure thing. I haven't seen a ton of people around but...Hm. There's a guy named Shang Beida that showed me around when I arrived. Ratio's here somehow...some other odd people like umm...a judge? And I don't know how a Knight of Beauty got here but he sure did? And one of the masked fools..." He grimaces at that. His eyes flick to Sunday with the barest hint of sympathy, taking a wild guess what the man might ask next. "I didn't see anyone else from where we're from though." He didn't see the guy's sister.
He pauses then, taking in Sunday's bedraggled appearance. He grins with an idea. "I do know some places you could get cleaned up. Shower, fresh clothes. How about beating me at some card games and I'll take you there?" He nods to the strange location. "I mean, once the place evens out. It'll pass the time till it does."
no subject
The questions he'd asked, as all Sunday's questions were, had been ones he'd mulled upon himself, unable to choose an answer. Afraid of making the wrong choice. And yet. He always did seem to choose wrong, didn't he?
It was why he needed guidance. Why he was weak, and needed to be lead.
"The ultimate goal of that consecration would have spiritually killed the you before me at that point, and remade you as an obedient member of the Family, part of a... harmonious whole, if you will. But seeing as though you have already experienced some form of spiritual death through the Nihility, it remains, trying to fulfill its purpose on a man who has been fundamentally altered by a separate Aeon."
Sunday thinks for a moment, before going out on a limb, extending an olive branch of his own. Perhaps they could set aside the past. It had not been personal, not truly. He had been in mourning. The Dream was as true to him as reality was, many days.
"I am... Unsure if any of us still quite have a connection to our Aeons here. But if I may... If you offer me your faith... I could attempt to dispel it for you, and allow you to walk free of THEIR influence. If you would believe me honest and generous, like yourself."
Sunday's voice is soft, but his body language opens up, his expression thoughtful, even kind. He... does want to help. To make something right. To do something good, with his own hands. Er. Halo. Perhaps his poker face did need work, but it wasn't as though he would need that here right now.
"Live... outside of Penacony? No, I was born there, with my sister. The only times I've really left have been few, and far between. And we were both raised with... separate purposes."
He knew of Sigonia, had done research on it, as he'd researched all of his guests. He figures that perhaps... It was only fair to tell Aventurine about his own homeland. So they may be on the same page. These were political chips being passed back and forth. They were on the same level, here.
"My homeland was destroyed in Penacony's Stellaron crisis. We were adopted into the Family as children. Specifically as interpreters. My sister... she'd lost her voice, before the Charmony Festival, and could only sing through Harmony. And I..."
There had been different plans, for him.
"It's not important. That aside, this is entirely new for me."
No one else, just a handful of people Sunday only vaguely had heard of, or met on an occasion or two. He didn't need to ask the question that lingered at the tip of his tongue. Robin wasn't here, as far as he was aware. She would make the best of this situation. He knows it. Besides, he knew the nature of the Festival. It was not something she needed to worry about.
"Thank you. I haven't been able to sense her, but I. Worry that I feel a little selfish, thinking it would be better for her to be here with me, rather than dealing with Charmony Festival, all alone."
Aventurine's suggestion brings him pause. Card games? He looks around at their surroundings, the overgrown halls, the dripping water, the filthy floor. Here, of all places? But doing his laundry and showering... It sounded heavenly to Sunday. And what were a few wasted moments playing card games to him?
"I suppose I'll take you up on that. What would you like to play?"
no subject
He’d almost prefer the noose.
He bites the inside of his lip to keep a somewhat neutral expression, even as his mind gives a pulse of pain as a reminder of what almost was. What's still there, in pieces, resting in his brain. The thought makes his skin crawl....
"I...see. That's pretty powerful." And terrifying. He wants to claw those remnants out of his head himself, right now, get it out--
And Sunday offers to remove it for him. He blinks, his first instinct to take him up on it, but...
Does he really trust Sunday to go rummaging through his mind again?
It's a promising gamble. He'd love to stop having these headaches...but who would make sure Sunday did as he said he would? His open expression is new, and the guy does kinda suck at lying but...
“That is…very generous of you, Mr. Sunday,” he says, wanting to sound sarcastic but missing the mark somewhere. He’s honestly surprised at this kind of offer. “I feel my own connections to the Preservation are weaker with this place, but it could be due to…other factors, as you’ve pointed out,” like the Nihility. Or the shattered cornerstone. He thinks over this, flipping a coin over his fingers. “As a gambler, I’m not one to hesitate, usually. However, would you be alright to put a pin in this until we’re somewhere not likely to tip over the other way at a moment’s notice?” He asks, giving a small, crooked smile. It’d also give him some time to…consider.
His eyebrows raise at the bit about Penacony. “So you really don’t get out much. Well now I’m curious, what purposes were those?” His eyes flick to the wings around the man’s waist, how one side’s feathers seem…shorter. Unnaturally so. He’s not sure what that means, but it feels like something important, so he files it away.
He does lean forward, surprised about the destroyed homeland. Details on the mysterious Family were sparse, especially about the Family head, so he…didn’t know that one. His customary smile falters, and his bravado quiets a bit. “Hey. I am sorry about your sister. I’m glad she was able to sing through Harmony, even if it’s stuff that messed with me, it helped her. Can’t be all bad…” She must be a kinder, purer soul. Makes sense.
He pauses a moment. If there was a possibility for his own sister to be alive, he’d want to know, right? Robin could be in the real dreamscape… But Aventurine’s not sure if he wants to broach that just now. “My…condolences, for everything. I know it sounds long ago, but it can still be…rough.” He finally settles on, giving the Halovian a sympathetic smile.
He does give a little huff of laughter. “No I get it. This place is awful, but if my own sis- my family could be here, it would…make it a little better,” He mutters. It’s probably more fresh for Sunday though, so he just grins. “They’re not here though, so us selfish bastards have just each other to play cards with,” he chuckles, only a little bitter, tugging a card deck out of his pocket. “I was thinking Old Maid; simple enough, could be fun,” he muses, shuffling the deck. “Have you ever played- woah—“
Of course the ship chooses now to reach the top of the mountain and start tipping the other way. Aventurine yelps, falling sideways, the cards scattering in the air as he scrambles to catch himself.
no subject
It's not a fate he would want himself, either. That said, he does respect Aventurine's hesitation on the matter. He had already harmed him before. Who was to say he might never do so again, gesture of good will or not? Or that he might even still have a connection to his Aeon here? The halovian simply nods.
"As you wish. We can file it away for later."
Aventurine's comment about him not getting out much was... well. It was what it was: Very true.
"I... No, I don't. I fear I more or less was raised within the Dream. Or rather, I was raised to control it. I know every corner, every room like I know the back of my hand, or the feathers on my wings. Very little within it has ever escaped me."
The Memes. That ragged, filthy Bloodhound. Outliers he couldn't wholly predict. Even that whole separate dreamscape had been hidden to him until... Until when? Every time he tried to think more about it, reaching for a memory both close and distant, his head throbbed.
Perhaps it was tied to that slovenly man.
"These?" Sunday asks, extending the wings at his waist just slightly, enough to make them visible. The uneven feathers on his right side much more apparent. "They weren't made for flight. They are just as part of me as the ones behind my ears, or my halo. Perhaps at one point, we flew, but... Not now."
And yet, his flight feathers were clipped. As though he just might.
"The Harmony has always favoured her, I feel. She is open, kind. Charitable. Robin represents everything Xipe desires THEIR devoted to be." Sunday says this with a soft smile. Wisftul. "To sing through the Harmony's resonance is a great honour."
Aventurine tries, really tries to be respectful about the loss of his sister. Sunday appreciates it, more than he'd like to admit. He closes his eyes. Deciding that maybe, whatever had happened on Penacony as a result of his absence, he'd one day be able to accept it. This was just another step towards their dream, together. He'd just gotten lost, on the way.
"...I suppose you would understand better than anyone, after everything." Sunday says, finally, quietly. Was the boat they were in really so different? No homeland, no family. In a strange place with unknown intentions for them. "Being alone again like this is difficult, but I suppose it must be some sort of fitting punishment for us."
Selfish bastards, Aventurine had called them both. It sounded about right, currently. Aventurine suggests a game of Old Maid, pulling out a deck of cards. Just as the boat tilts once more, he shuffles it, and loses his balance. And the cards scatter. Sunday watches in awe, his feathers fanning out as he tries not to laugh. It was a little funny. Just a little.
"How unfortunate."
I was gonna just deal with the last part but Aven has to yap
Raised to control it, huh? Yeah, that doesn't raise any red flags, not at all. Well that explains how he knows about Aventurine's little...death experiments. "Really? Even the primordial dreamscape?"
The man's body language does sour for a bit there. He doesn't have time to dwell on it before the guy spreads his wings. Uh. He didn't mean- you know what, sure, he was wondering about those too. Sunday answered his actual question earlier, anyway, and the feathery appendages did interest him. "I...see. Probably help with balance, though, hm?" Aventurine says, not at all missing the uneven feathers. Is that an old injury? It's a bit too clean to be one...he files that information away for later. It'd be rude to ask about.
"I'm sure it is different knowing Robin as who she is, instead of who she is on the screens. She already seems lovely there." No past tense. A hopeful hint for him, perhaps. His smile softens. "She did look happy singing. I'm glad."
He pauses when Sunday says Aventurine would understand. Right. Right. The Family Head did his research too. It's just a bit disorienting to have that be used as a point of connection instead of a weapon. "I don't know about punishment, really," he hums. Sometimes he thinks being (one of) the last survivor is some cruel punishment. Why him instead of his sister, his Mama? They deserved to live just as much, even more than he did. He shakes himself from that familiar train of thought. Nothing to be done now.
"Being...alone is hard. It doesn't really get. Easier. And you do keep missing them...but that's...normal I think." He clears his throat. "But hey, it means you care about her. She cares about you. And if it's punishment or some crazy joke or whatever, well. We're the ones here. Alive. Might as well make the best of it."
Sheesh, too much heartfelt chatter. Is he really that tired? He's never really talked about it like this with anyone really. He hopes it helps, anyway; it would have helped him, when the grief was fresh.
Even so, it's almost a relief to be thrown off his balance on the other side of the outcropping by the stupid boat. Ugh. Broke the sappy moment at least.
He fumbles his way back upright, to where Sunday stands. He looks at his cards scattered everywhere, visibly pouting. "Aw...I liked that deck. Topaz gifted it..." he whines, going to reclaim a few. He hears fluttering feathers, and a quiet, strained comment. Aventurine eyes his happenstance companion, quirking an eyebrow. Is he...? "Alright, chucklehead. It was pretty funny. But!" And he points at the Halovian with a flourish, smirking. "If you have time to Not Laugh, you have time to help me get these cards back. You know what, I'll even count it as a game! 52 Card Pickup. Soon as we gather them up, I'll take you to the showers. How's that sound?"
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"No. That... It was never shown to me. It seems even my own education had its limits."
Sunday's arms cross over his chest, more than a little uncomfortable with the implications of it. That even he had not been worthy of such information. He doesn't like the questions that bloom in his mind following it: What else had his Master been hiding? To what ends?
Aventurine was right, though. Being alone was hard. He was never quite as lonely as thwe other man had been, he thinks. He'd had the Family. His father, attendants. The Oak Family as a whole. And yet, it was not their absence that made him feel this raw and hollowed out, was it?
Making the best of it. Of... this? Sunday's not sure exactly where to begin. He's not sure his resourcefulness could really hold a candle to everything they were simply. thrusted into. But. He had to try.
"Perhaps you're right."
Aventurine quickly recovers from his slip, pointing at him after realizing he was trying Very Hard not to laugh. Making a game out of it? Fine by him. Sunday had little else to do. And the idea of being taken to the showers, where he could at least somewhat be free of this filth... Well. It was tempting.
"You make a fine deal. I'll help."
Sunday would walk forward, toward the scattered mess of cards, taking a rag out of his pocket to help pick up the cards and wipe them free of any filth. It doesn't take long before he has a sizeable bunch in one hand, and a filthy rag in the other, with him trying to ensure Aventurine's deck returned to him clean as they were previously.
Or well, close to it. Sunday knew he was a gambler, and that he liked to keep his cards close to his chest. As much as Sunday wasn't a man who took risks, he could respect the other man's dedication to an aesthetic, and his desire to have his belongings returned to his hand.
"I've picked up twenty-four, so far." He counts them silently. Sunday's eyes catch the back of one, that seemed to have a minor printing error that revealed its value to any who knew what to look for, and he holds it up, quirking a brow at the other man. A smile tugs at his lips as he teases Aventurine. "What a curious misprint. The odds truly do seem to lie in your favour, don't they?"
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So Aventurine just shrugs nonchalantly. "Not much to see. I don't think you'd like it. The way I got in caused me alot of problems, to be honest. I'm not too keen on revisiting it," he says with a small laugh.
And now he's fallen over and collecting his poor cards from the surroundings. Frustrating, but Sunday's cooperation is a welcome surprise.
He knows what to look for, and the colors of his cards can pop out against all the vines and dirt, but it's not very well lit in here...hm. Still, he's found about 17...
Sunday calls to attention the...unique quirk of this deck. Aventurine steps over to retrieve his cards, grinning. "My my, Mr. Sunday. I didn't think you were type to notice silly little details like that. What a surprise!" He chuckles, taking them from the Halovian's hand. He even cleaned them...he didn't...have to do that. Why did he?
It's probably nothing complicated. Sunday just likes things clean and orderly. Still...
He focuses instead on how Sunday actually teased him about his marked deck. Aventurine, forever a little sibling, feels some sort of small victory being able to witness such behavior, wants to encourage it even. So he keeps smiling and pushes his luck like always.
"It was a gift, and I guess my subordinate knows my tastes well. It makes me curious, however. Do you, perhaps, have some experience with these kinds of...misprints?" He asks, eyebrow raised.
He wants to know if Sunday's cheated at cards. It'd be really funny if he had.
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Sunday wonders for a moment if he means what he said, and finds that yes, he does. He buries himself in the task of picking up the cards, noticing Aventurine's grin as he calls him out on being a bit of a cheat. Then again, Sunday supposed he couldn't stand before him now if his luck didn't involve a a few contingency plans. He allows Aventurine to take the cards, anyways.
It was a secret that Sunday decides he is willing to keep.
"I notice, when I find multiple of the same card at once. I would hope that you didn't have any plans to try this little trick at any of our tables, Mr. Aventurine."
Sunday tuts about it, like he were admonishing a younger sibling for being just a little too cheeky. He finds he's almost... fond of the idea. Like it reminds him that Aventurine is still the same man he'd met those few times. That there was still a piece of... something here, with him. Not quite home, but. Someone he could expect certain behaviour from. A sort of familiarity.
"My own experience only arises from dealing with the most notorious of cheaters. I'm not usually one who gets involved when people are caught." Sunday says, a slight chuckle in his voice. Sometimes the Family even hired them as dealers, after ensuring their loyalty. "I was sure that I impressed upon you that I do not take risks, dear gambler. But... I suppose I can turn a blind eye."
They weren't on Penacony, after all.
How did I miss this one for 6 weeks OOPS (Alt. title: Wouldn't you like to know, feather boy)
He grins when asked about using his...card techniques in Penacony. "Sharp. And maybe I did, maybe I didn't." He winks, reclaiming the given cards to place them carefully in the box. "What happens in Penacony stays in Penacony~"
The back and forth is honestly calming to him in an oddly familiar way, and somehow makes Sunday seem less intimidating. Not enough for Aventurine to let his guard down completely around the halovian, but it's...weirdly nice?? He's lucky to even be alive and...himself enough for this. He can't say the same for Sunday, however. Aventurine's luck always covered himself, but not those around him, and the poor pretty bird is going to hate it on this old run-down boat.
Well he's nothing if not generous, right?
"Ah, but you were never called in for me. Meaning I was never caught, assuming I cheated," Aventurine hums, chuckling softly as he rescues the rest of his cards. It was rather fast with Sunday's help. He looks up at the other man. "My thanks, for your...discretion, and your help here. My end of the bargain is right this way; come along~!" With that, Aventurine spins on his heel and slips the card box in his pocket, going to exit with a bounce in his step as if he hadn't just toppled over with the tilting boat.
He's been tired lately, but the goal fuels him. And one should always take the opportunity to mend some broken bridges, no?
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Maybe they could still... He lets the thought lie, as foolish as it was. He doesn't continue it, doesn't feed into it. Could he really be so wistful about it, after everything?
"I suppose so. If you'd been caught, this deck would have likely been confiscated. A real shame. Though I am sure you have more tricks up your sleeve beyond simple card games."
If anything, the discussion between them, lighthearted and a little silly, is helping settle his latent anxiety. At least Aventurine is responding well to the slight banter. Having helped rescue his cards too seemed to help matters. Aventurine even thanks him for keeping the truth hidden within the cards to himself. The level of familiarity between them, even if small... It was reassuring.
"Of course. I may not gamble myself, but far be it from me to influence your luck." He says, offering a smile, figuring Aventurine needed all the luck he could get. "Lead the way."
He follows after the other man, just glad that he'd run into someone who knew where they were going. Even if it was a man he'd marked for death.