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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.
I’m so sorry Argenti…sweet summer child…
Truly an incredible act, he reminds himself. He can’t forget the quieter game going on here.
“Well, strip poker is a variation of the usual stakes!” He explains, smile widening. “Instead of the usual, it has to do with what you’re wearing. It’ll make more sense after this round…see, remember here, you can match my bet, raise it, or fold…”
Thing is, the man seems very happy about his hand. Either it’s an elegant bluff, or his poker face sucks. Bets are made. Aventurine goes ahead and folds.
“See, now if you had a good or bad hand, you convinced me to fold. So you win this round!” He chirps, giving an encouraging clap. “So based on the chips in the pot…maybe three articles of clothing will do.” And without further preamble, Aventurine takes off his gloves, a bracelet, and…with only a brief pause, he shrugs off his coat to hang it on the back of his chair. This…does leave him feeling more exposed, but it’s likely to get the point across.
And you have to put some skin in the game if you want to win. Eventually, one of their kindly masks will have to slip, and it certainly won’t be Aventurine’s.
((Aventurine isn’t quite thinking about this, but Argenti, there are…discolored rings around Aventurine’s wrists, scars of some sort. There are more scars you would be familiar with from battle, further up his arms, peeking out from his shorter sleeved shirt.))
((Also I rolled a 5 if you wanna run with that for another round, LMAO. help. Bad rolls.))
Some rules and ruminations
He listens to the explanation with curiosity, equally curious when Mr. Aventurine refuses to elaborate until their round ends. What he's wearing? How would that work...?
He would simply have to wait and see. He grabs his cards from the deck and his heart jumps a little in excitement at what he sees. If he's not mistaken this is a very good hand. Although. He hopes the game won't become too frustrating for Mr. Aventurine if he ends up winning too much... oh well. For now he would play his hand, and he would try to come to a judgement about Mr. Aventurine's demeanor towards his losses later.
Argenti lights up with a smile, proud that he has grasped the rules through Mr. Aventurine's patience and coaching, and that the man seems pleased by the results. Good, excellent, now he could hopefully be a distracting opponent.
Argenti watches with furrowed brows in confusion for a few minutes as Mr. Aventurine stands and removes his gloves... a bracelet... his Coat-
Oh. Strip. Oh. Oh he had grasped the bet now.
It was both impressive to see Mr. Aventurine's confidence while removing his layers, not even flinching. It wasn't that Argenti himself was ashamed of his body, but he knew very few people who wouldn't feel exposed if acting in such a way in front of a stranger. Mr. Aventurine did it almost like a show, not bothered in the slightest.
Despite the flourishes however Argenti did notice... scars. Some which were familiar, he had many of the same littering his own body. The kind received when encountering weapons. But he also had... cuff scars. Something he unfortunately had encountered before.
People often grew uncomfortable when their scars were pointed out, unsure about what kind of attention it was they were receiving, so he kept his concerns to himself, Mr. Aventurine seemed physically well despite them, so it wasn't something that needed immediate addressing. But their existence lingered in his mind.
He somewhat had to force a smile, "Ah, I understand now." he looked thoughtfully down at his chips, "So its relative to how much we put into a bet. If You lose few chips, you remove very little, or something small. However if you lose much then you remove a relatively equal amount..."
Something about these stakes... did not sit well with him. True they were not truly losing any of their clothing. It wasn't as though it was being confiscated by their opponent... but it still sat coldly in his gut.
Mr. Aventurine deals the next round, Argenti's fingers hesitate for a second, concerned whether or not this is truly a good idea... but he had given his word... and if things truly went downhill... he could put a stop to this. He would put a stop to it. For now he'd see if it would truly, hopefully, give Mr. Aventurine the piece of mind he was looking for.
He stifled an air starved cough into his elbow with a polite pardon and gazed at his hand. Another good hand! If he was remembering correctly it wasn't as good as his last one, but it was still a solid contender. He'd smoothed out his expression to be candid once again after all his concerns, and simply gazed over his hand at Mr. Aventurine, waiting to see what move he would make.
Argenti is starting to win his game of Checkers in Aven's mental game of Chess LMAOOOO
Argenti's face is like a broadcast to what's going on most of the time. He did catch the part about schooling your expressions for the game, right? Then again, he is making a valiant effort. He watches the knight's confusion morph to understanding, and a bright, almost infectious smile when he realizes he'd won. Then...something else, when Aventurine sheds his own clothes. He can't quite place that one. It's not a positive emotion, though. And an almost sad smile, as he spoke of understanding...
....does he really? Aventurine smiles in turn, anyway. "Correct, my good knight! You are a fast learner!" Which isn't a lie. Poker face aside, there are alot of rules to Poker, many of which took him many games to fully grasp; when he was much smaller, much more afraid.
But Argenti's face... doesn't it take a good actor to seem like a bad actor? But the knight really did have a good hand that last time, so was he...? Genuine...?
There's no way.
Aventurine resists the urge to scrub a hand through his hair, to ease the building headache and the circling thoughts over this. An outlet of frustration. Usually he can read people well, but he genuinely cannot tell if this guy is an incredible faker or an incredibly bad bluffer. Well, for a first timer he's pretty good, but you can't keep showing so much on your face if you wanna win...
He still feels the thrill of the game, but something...cold is starting to weigh in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the excitement. He's not really sure what it is yet. So he just smiles, and sets up the new round. "Round two. We'll see where things end up this time."
Aventurine watches closely as the cards are dealt and revealed. He catches a flash of excitement on the red-head's face, and then a quick shift; a remarkably real sounding cough--aeons, how did he do that??-- and his face smoothing into...a mask. Oho~ So he is learning. Aventurine still can take a good guess the knight has a better hand than him (because goodness, what can he do with all these ill matched draws...?) but there's a brief spark of...pride, when Argenti makes a pretty solid attempt at a poker face.
Or...the farce of an attempt at one?? Whatever. Put that aside for later.
Too bad Aventurine plans to win this one. So he widens his smile, projecting a bit more excitement; just a bit, he's not going to overdo it. He calls and ups the bet every time, working to imply he's confident in his hand, aiming to press Argenti into folding, into believing his bluff.
The last card is about to be revealed. Aventurine drops a handful of chips on the table, grinning. "Your move, Sir Argenti~" he hums, sing-song and playful. He...is rather enjoying himself, even without the comforting weight of his coat over his shoulders.
It's been awhile since he'd been in his element like this. It's nice.
He is Winning the Checkers game but at What Cost really (all of his bones)
He doesn't notice Aventurine's internal frustrations, distracted as he was by the shackle scars, and his own... unease about the rule set. He watches diligently as each card is dealt, keeping an eye on Mr. Aventurine's face, trying to gauge the man's emotional state. His expression shifts to one of glee and excitement as he pulls out card after card, expertly and deftly slotting them between his fingers while once in a while meeting Argenti's gaze, most likely to scrutinize his opponent as well.
Given that Mr. Aventurine is very experienced at this game, he cannot assume that this means the man is truly winning, or if he is simply putting on a show of sorts to convince Argenti to fold his hand. If it is a performance, than it deserves only the highest praise. Argenti could not fathom how such obvious giddiness could be forced, it was a skill entirely beyond him, and it is a conundrum to consider. And one he finds himself slightly enjoying weighing in his mind. It is not unlike sorting out the solution to a difficult endeavor or problem, something he is innately familiar with.
He glances at their pool of chips as the final card is drawn. It is... significant. Were either of them to lose they would be removing a fair amount of their outfits. He frowns to himself at that. Mr. Aventurine is at a disadvantage in this case because... quite frankly he himself is wearing far more layers. His armor on top of under armor and a few more pieces. If the point where one has 'lost' is on the brink of indecency, than Mr. Aventurine will have to win far more times than Argenti will have to in order to obtain victory.
Then again, Mr. Aventurine being the more experienced at the game, perhaps that simply allowed there to be balance so he could still enjoy a thorough game without immediately obtaining victory after what Argenti could only ammusedly assume would be his many, many losses.
Well.. now is the moment to decide whom the victor is.
He considers for a moment, before folding his cards with a smile.
Mr. Aventurine was a formidable opponent, he could not discern whether he was bluffing or genuine in the end... but that did not matter. Maybe it was not something Mr. Aventurine would have minded, but as a Knight of Beauty who's service had been requested, Argenti felt it did not suit the spirit of his service to constantly beat the man at his own game. On maybe a more foolish and lighthearted note, the idea of wiping the man's excited expression of his face made him feel sad. He had a beautiful smile.
And it certainly nothing to do with the fact that his heart settled at the thought that Mr. Aventurine would not be needlessly exposing himself more. That he could meet even with the man's vulnerability. At least for now.That he had been spared."I can see now that you are a very experienced, and formidable opponent, Mr. Aventurine," he says sincerely, he chuckled slightly, ignoring the way that it ended on a slight cough, "Not that that was a fact even in question."
"Now..." his eyebrows draw together as he gazes at the significant pile of chips.
Mr. Aventurine had not consulted him before removing his own attire... so he supposed he would match whatever amount he felt was appropriate.
Resolved in his choice he first reaches for a clasp around one wrist, working off the metal plating on his fingers, sliding them off and placing the metal glove on the table off to the side, he then follows with his actual glove, before switching and repeating the process with his other hand, leaving both hands bare and exposed. He then works the belts of his gauntlets, slipping them both off his lower arms.
His midsection protests at the movement, even though it is slight and removed from that general area. He hides his discomfort, content to keep removing his armor.
He reaches up for his left side shoulder pad and stalls for a second as his chest truly protests at the motion. reaching that high and far across is apparently not within its liking. He schools his expression, hoping that he didn't show any visible discomfort, and returns to working it off. Although much slower than he did the gloves and gauntlets, having to mind to exasperate his injury as little as possible.
He repeats the process with the right shoulder pad, unaware that he goes even slower on that one as the exacerbating slowly increases the pain as he does his due diligence.
He sets the shoulder pads besides himself on the couch, and turns to look back at Mr. Aventurine pushing out of this mind the sweat he could feel rolling down his forehead, the way his heartbeat had quickened, and the way his breathing strained.
"Is this adequate in your eyes, Mr. Aventurine?" He asks with a smile.
Please sir!! Your bones!! Local gambler tries not to worry and fails a bit
And, just as expected, the knight folds. Alot of it had been an act for Aventurine, but he still does feel the excitement of the win, the satisfaction. "Why thank you! You play a good game yourself, though. That was a fun round," Aventurine replies, grinning brightly.
His smile stays in place, but something in the thrill of the win...dims, watching Argenti remove pieces of armor for his loss. It is more up to the loser really; he's not going to push an apparent newbie in this, after all. There's just...a stiffness in the man's movements that becomes a little more apparent as he moves from one piece of armor to the other. Aborted winces, clenched teeth to hold in expressions of discomfort. All very subtle tells that only the most attentive observers would catch.
So subtle that it'd be near impossible to do as an act...right? Right? If it's an act, Aventurine wonders where he learned. It's very realistic. He'd held in grimaces to hide bruises many times, he knows what that looks like.
...If it's an act? Of course it's an act. But...but even an actor can be in pain, and try to hide it. How injured is this guy? Should he...say something?
Did Aventurine want Jade to point out he was in pain and not fit to work? A lame animal to be left behind the pack, better fit to be devoured than to limp along and slow everyone down? No. No. If he's going to draw attention to weakness, he needs to be...indirect about it. He needs to look for an opening.
And by the Mother, Argenti's breathing...it's more obvious after the work it took to remove the pieces of armor. He looks pale, his face damp, breathing a bit labored and irregular.
That cold feeling from before is back, sinking in slowly. He's not sure what to do about it. It's too soon to tell quite yet. So he tucks that all away and smiles, giving a nod of approval. "Seems appropriate to me. You're understanding quite well, I think," he says encouragingly. He goes ahead in dealing the cards for round three.
Usually he pays attention to an opponent's body language to help him win. He still is. But now with the question of the man's acting and how far it extends...how that ties in with his bombastic kindness with the tiny tells of pain...it paints an interesting picture he needs to understand more of. All in due time.
For now, Poker. He's been drawing a good hand, so he'll put forth some sizeable bets. And maybe some conversation would help..."So that armor of yours. It's beautiful. Do you end up fighting alot of monsters in it? Any interesting battles you fought, recently?" he asks, partly conversational and partly...genuine curiosity. His sister would tell some stories about knights, way back then. He wonders if there was any truth to her tales she'd gathered from the market. He props his cheek on his hand, watching Argenti in a relaxed but attentive manner.
((Got a 14 this time, wahoo?))
Don't Worry! Here's more to worry about!
Argenti shakes his head, "I say what I believe to be the truth," His smile is reassuring as he looks Mr. Aventurine directly in the eyes.
Argenti takes in Mr. Aventurine's excited demeanor and smiles even wider himself, good, he'd made the right decision in folding his hand. He laughs lightly, genuinely flattered by Mr. Aventurine's praise, "Please, I am honored by your compliments."
Argenti is oblivious to Aventurine's inner turmoil over his state, his mind gets lost in static, ears filled entirely by the sound of his lungs expanding, and air passing through and out of them. He felt both light, and impossibly heavy. As though what armor he remained clad in weighed the same as the cosmos themselves. Thankfully he was aware enough to maintain his composure, despite his hand twitching to move to pull at his straps and free himself from his armor.
He could not do that. He was wearing this for the game. No. He was wearing this because he was a Knight of Beauty. But he needed to keep it on for the game. In order to take it off for the game.
His eyes distantly stare at the table as he subconsciously frowns at his circular and bewildering thoughts.
Mr. Aventurine's hand moving to divvy out the cards startles him back to awareness, jerkily he moves his arm to grasp at his own, new hand, before mentally cursing his lapse in control and making sure to slow down and refine his movements.
He- he needed to finish this game. He needed to do as he'd said he would.
His. His hand is quite good. Once he comprehends what he is looking at. For several moments he simply stared at the revealed illustrations in confusion, frustrated as his eyes refused to make sense of what was before them. He absentmindedly moves his own chips into the betting pool.
Stars, Idrila give him strength, he was acting a disgrace.
"Hm?" Argenti makes a noise of acknowledgement before looking back up from his hand to Mr. Aventurine, the question taking a moment to process in his mind, still full of the too loud sounds of his own breathing, "Ah- Ah yes. Yes. I have had this armor for a very long time." His expression relaxes a little, turning fond, "It has weathered many a hard journey with me, and is responsible for saving my life countless times."
"Recent endeavors..." His mind drifts off as he considers, expression noticeably losing its focus on the present as he does, "Ah! Yes, recently, I had the honor of encountering the Trailblazers, the Nameless, stewards and travelers aboard the Astral Express. Together we fought off a terrible foe. A Giant Sting. A horrendous remnant of the Swarm that terrorized the universe in Amber Era's past."
OH HE'S WORRYIN he will not admit it to even himself tho. Idiot. Argenti doin him a concern
Especially when the knight receives the gambler’s own compliments so gracefully. This guy…he does look happy for some reason, after losing. Huh. Maybe he’s having fun too.
And the cards Aventurine’s drawing look good…he could make a full house out of this. The corner of his mouth quirks up, allowing it to show his confidence and excitement. No light seems to quite reach his eyes normally, and yet they seem to glow now with anticipation. He could win again, easily. Argenti didn’t seem too perturbed about losing either, so…this wouldn’t be going too far, he thinks.
And…aeons, the man’s breathing. Something’s very wrong with it. Maybe removing more armor will do him some good….not that he’s worried or anything.
Aventurine eyes the knight’s expression, and…wow. The almost blank look as he stares at the table. Is he calculating? Hiding excitement? Disappointment? “You’re picking up a great poker face already, Ser Argenti. Hmmm I wonder what your hand is like~” he hums, truly impressed and…perhaps a tad unsettled. The man is picking it up extremely quickly…is the gambler right in his assessment? Is this all an act within an act…
He needs to stop mulling that over for now. Only results will tell. So he smiles brightly as they take turns adding value to the pot. Knock on the table. Call. Raise. Even if he has the lower value, Aventurine is basking in the warm buzz of competition, and the possibility of a win at his fingertips.
Argenti must have been thinking about it as well; it takes him a long moment to collect is thoughts for more casual conversation. It…does take a lot of memory for the different hands…and yet still. Something about it sets off yet another small alarm in Aventurine’s head. Something’s not right. But what? What? It’s a frustrating thing to escape him…
But then the knight relaxes a little with the topic, and that feels like its own smaller win for Aventurine. He smiles at Argenti’s answers. “That’s good. Armor seems more reliable than my little shields, it seems. Although,” he glances at his own bony wrists, “my…slight figure probably wouldn’t be able to handle the weight you wear,” he adds, laughing softly. “I’m glad it could save your life enough for us to meet here, strange as this ship is, hmm?”
Something…tightens in Aventurine’s stomach when the knight’s eyes seem to almost…glaze over as he thinks. Is that normal? Is that part of the poker face? It’s so abrupt…he looks…lost, almost. Is that on purpose? But then the warmth returns talking about the Nameless…ah. Aventurine is able to match his smile on that. “It seems we have a common acquaintance. The trailblazers are…a good bunch. And good at getting into trouble even before Penacony, so it seems;” he says, chuckling. “Indeed a formidable set of allies to have in your corner whilst facing a difficult battle.” And a formidable set of foes…he suppresses a wince at that.
He does tilt his head, very curious about that last part. “I believe we’ve mentioned this before, but how does someone like you end up battling a remnant of the Swarm? I did not think there were any left out there.” It was a big scam to just get the IPC to search for his people. He’d sent them searching for the carcasses of the Swarm, assuming there wouldn’t actually be children of Tazzyronth anywhere…. To think that there really are some alive out there…unsettling!!
He knocks on the table again, grinning. “Raise. Finish us off, Ser Argenti~” he all but purrs, watching the knight closely. What will he do at the end of this round, he wonders?
Worry harder little gambler man (Argenti is getting a good grade in distraction (No he's not))
"Hmmm. Hm?" Argenti blinks and looks up, "Ah- Ah yes my hand." He squints back down at his cards, mentally shaking himself and raising the bet to match Aventurine's. "You're far too kind Mr. Aventurine." The words are sincere, but it comes out distracted...
He follows the more skilled gentleman's moves, matching his bet, trying to keep in step. It feels like fighting through a bog, but he keeps up the effort, trying harder and harder to keep his mental faculties from drifting away from the cards right in front of his eyes. Stars, why was this getting so difficult?
The conversation does help. It keeps his mind engaged in the present, drifting away less, as he absentmindedly matches Aventurine again, "Not all victories are won in combat, and not all knights wear armor," He frowns slightly at the self-deprecating attitude of Mr. Aventurine's words, "My armor cannot leave my body to defend others. A conjured shield could to more than protect my heart alone," he smiles at the last addendum, "And I as well."
"Ah yes we did!" He doesn't let it show how much it bothers him that he forgot, "Ah, as much as I might wish for it to be otherwise, erasing such a horrid stain from the universe was evidently, not so simple." He thought back to the giant sting and how it attempted to torment himself and the crew of the Astral Express, "Tazzyronth's spawn are resilient, its hard to say if they could ever truly be erased," Not that he wouldn't try, "It was a chance encounter really. We ran into each other, I and the Trailblazers, happening to have accidentally been swallowed by the same giant sting. Whether it was on the hunt for a meal, or we were simply incidental specs of dust it'd inhaled, I cannot know for certain."
The round comes to its finale, and he looks with great consideration at the cards in front of him. Or at least- he tries to. The patterns on the cards seem to be swimming in his vision, dancing and warping in ways he knew, logically, they weren't. He can make them out still, thank Idrila, but trying to wrap his mind around the meanings- He couldn't remember. Was it a good hand? He wasn't sure.
His mind was lost somewhere between his throat and his heart, in every strangling breath and wheezing exhale. He wasn't aware of it himself. His own body was desperately trying to compensate for his lack of self preservation, his lips parted slightly to breathe desperately through his mouth instead of his nose, trying to get more air.
"I-" he starts, wanting to fill the awkward silence, but not really certain what he's doing. He wrestles with himself, he needs to speak, "I, fold." He says, laying his cards face up. A monumental weight seeming to have left him now that he got the words out.
He knew in a second he would have to deliberate over which armor piece to remove next, but for now- he'd succeeded at finishing this round of the game.
Waddles in here like a fat cat. Checks Aven's passive insight. U sure about that Knight Guy?
"Anyone would have for someone as polite as yourself sir knight~ it's no big deal," he adds, waving his hand and raising his fanned out cards in front of his face. He almost misses how clumsy Argenti's moves are getting....but not quite. He sees it. Pauses. Normally people's movements get smoother and faster as they play....Aventurine sighs, flicking one of his cards against the others. This is his trick deck (Topaz gave it to him, he always has it...) but the sick feeling only grows thinking of actually cheating with it here...
"Maybe closer to the Preservation, it was more impressive. As it is, however, my shields are lucky to stop a rolling cart, much less an attack..." he grumbles. Something in his chest twinges at the thought; not quite pain, but annoying all the same. He remembers to smile there though. "Your own armor may be the safer bet for you, ser knight..."
He has no idea how ironic that is, since the plate is slowly crushing the man before his very eyes..."Someone should put those bugs on ice, truly," the gambler hums as he listens, laying down a card of his own, analyzing what he has...it takes him a second to realize what Argenti just said. "It ate you? And the Nameless?? Well then...seems you have a fair amount of good luck yourself, if you're alive here to tell me the tale!" he chuckles, eyeing the odds lined up before him here...
And then Argenti folds. Aventurine starts a little, luminous yet lightless eyes snapping up to try and meet the emerald gaze of his opponent. .....Argenti seems to be looking somewhere far beyond the cards, the table, the floor...the gambler's brows furrow.
He doesn't have superhuman hearing, per se, and yet his senses are keyed in to listen for certain things. Tells, weaknesses, danger...and he's picking up all of that now. No one's breathing should be that loud, that irregular. At first Aventurine thought it was simply nerves, but now...he lays his hand over the discarded hand, pretending to consider them. His hand should be in Argenti's bleary line of sight.
"Wise move, ser knight. But I think this calls for winner's choice, now." He tilts his head, tapping his cheek as if considering. But he already knows what he wants, what he wants off this man. Now. You can't fake a state like this. Something is wrong.
"How about the breastplate? You talked your armor up so much, now I'm just dying to see the craftmanship on the inside, I must say. You wouldn't mind indulging a curious little soul like myself, now would you?" he asks, definitely laying it on a little thick to push down the dread creeping up his throat. It's fine. It's just a game. This will prove it.
If Argenti's false bravado could equal certainty, than yes! otherwise no.
Argenti's frown shifts to concern, subconsciously straightening a little and trying to focus his blurry eyes on Aventurine's form, looking for signs of injury or sickness, "Are you unwell Mr. Aventurine? Nobody could expect someone who is hurt themselves to be responsible for the salvation of others," And likewise to Aventurine, the irony of his own statement is lost on him.
"On that, I can agree wholeheartedly," he says solemnly, nodding his head, instantly regretting it because of how the room spun, but thankfully it wasn't enough to even make him flinch on reflex. "Ha! Well I wouldn't call it good luck so much as good company, the spirit of the Nameless prevails through all kinds of hardships, even without my aid I am certain they would've found a means to rescue themselves, as it was we helped each other."
Argenti's eyes are fogged over as he does what he can to pull himself together without showing sign of it to his opponent. He misses the fact that Aventurine was looking him over, giving Argenti his own look of concern without reservation.
Argenti freezes at the declaration. Winner's choice? Why the sudden change in rules? For a brief moment Aventurine sees Argenti's expression become one of surprise, colored with something that's.... not fear, but clearly Argenti has reservations over something, something he's not saying.
Just as quickly as it came, it goes, and he's smoothing his expression back into a smile, albiet its clearly exhausted, whatever is wrong with him stealing enough of his energy reserves that what little he has left is not enough to maintain the facade.
"C-certainly," he was here to make Mr. Aventurine comfortable after all. A change in rules was no trouble at all. It didn't matter the way his skin crawled and he felt... exposed, under the keen gaze of the IPC Executive. "I have no issues with this arrangement."
Subconsciously, Argenti places a hand on his breastplate. On any other occasion, he would be more than happy to take it off and show it to his new friend. He was proud of the craftsmanship and beauty of his armor, he delighted to share that with others. But right now, he hesitates. Previously overly warm blood now feeling cold. He doesn't feel as though Mr. Aventurine is trying to threaten him, or do anything underhanded... so why does he feel this way? Why does he want desperately to say no? He- he was here to help him... how could he want to shirk his duty..?
His smile falls as he gets lost in the circling of his own thoughts, labored breathing being the only noise filling the silence.
He- he needed to do this.
He licks his dry lips and nods again, slowly, "Yes- yes of course," the words are absentminded, more muttered to himself than spoken clearly to Aventurine. He raises a hand, and hesitates again... then raises both his hands slowly, frowning. He absentmindedly searches for the clasps with his fingers, he'd taken his armor on and off so many times he could practically do it in his sleep at this point.
And yet despite that his fingers fumble the buckles, bumping into the breastplate instead. With a strangled gasp he feels a surge of pain.
Then he's blinking his eyes open. What..?
His head is resting against. Something. He feels lightheaded and vaguely nauseous. Where was he..? What had he been doing? Had he woken up from a strange dream..?
Both bravado sides collapse! Did someone order armor removal service uh. a year ago. hi??
Something in his chest pulses at the thought. He shakes his head. "I'm not noble like you, ser. Believe me, I'm the first to cover my own ass-ets-" he coughs. It feels. Wrong to throw crass words around a knight of beauty. His smile fades. "Salvation is beyond someone like me. I know I can't provide that for others; unless salvation's open to taking bribes suddenly." There's a little bitterness to that, but he brushes it away like a pesky fly.
Speaking of bugs. Argenti's tale is a fascinating one, but Aventurine's growing a bit...distracted. The knight's movements are so strange...lethargic. Clumsier and distant...
It's not that strange, shod in armor as he is, but Aventurine knows the man carried himself with considerable grace about an hour earlier. No...it's an act. Or was the poise an act? Is this? What would he have to gain? For any part of this? He hums a little in agreement speaking about the Nameless. "It still seems like a fortuitous meeting, and your contributions surely tipped the scales more favorably~"
Unlike this game. He folded...there's sweat glistening on the man's- pale, drawn- face. You can't act that. You can't act that.
Something's wrong.
The cold pit in his stomach grows when Argenti seems to draw into his own mind, seeming to think things over. Aventurine...swallows down nausea at causing this...particular kind of discomfort.
He of all people should know the creeping horror of being exposed in front of a stranger. A possible enemy.
Are they enemies...?
The removal of the armor was supposed to reveal that. But before he'd even realized, Aventurine had started eyeing a different possible outcome...
The knight's breathing is far too loud to be normal. It reminds him far too much of the wet, desperate gasps for air as lungs filled with blood around the knife he'd buried-
He reaches forward to...he's not sure. Brush the other's hand? Take the cards? Aventurine's never been so unsure after winning a game like this.
Argenti's breath hitches. Something creaks, metal scraping metal. "Ar-"
The knight falls, a curtain of blood red hair swaying and following his descent. It'd be beautiful if it didn't make Aventurine's cold, stone heart leap into his throat, alarm flooding his senses. It's as if he blinks and he's on the other side of the table, one leg up on it, cards scattering. There's a loud thud, a clatter. A body hitting the couch.
Did he jump over the table?! What the hell. He's not sure. Not like it's enough. He couldn't stop the fool of a man's head from striking the side of the table on his way down. But he could press against his shoulder, keeping him from rolling off the cushions completely. He doesn't miss the wheeze that pressure triggers. "Ser Knight- Argenti, right? Ha. Haha. You know, I heard knights of beauty were so gorgeous they made other people faint, not the knight themselves, you know? I think you're doing it wrong, heh." He's babbling. He knows he is. But it's what keeps him from losing his composure completely as he reaches down to brush long, wavy red locks away from an alarmingly pale, sweaty face. There's...blood smeared on the couch. He can see it. It's not the hair. Dammit. Dammit.
Downright hypocritical of the man to preach about not trying to help people while hurt. And here he is! Hurt. Struggling to freaking breathe.
"Alright, Mr. Knight, I think that's quite enough, don't you think? Now, I didn't plan for it to be this kind of poker, but it seems you've forced my hand~" Yeah, more flirty when nervous, great. His tone is more grim than it should be. He's not quite managing the levity he wants, only getting bursts of hysterical laughter. His hands scarred and stiff, flutter to the straps on the side of the armor. If he focuses enough, he can create some imaginary light. He can see better, but he's...not a knight, in any sense of the word. He knows how this works in theory, but actually working the thing off...
But the man is hurt, and dying a slow, excruciating death. Is he drowning? In his own blood? The thought makes Aventurine claw faster, tugging hard at the straps to get this accursed thing off. "Hold still, alright? I'll get my prize, and you can have a nice breather, that sound good? It'll just be a sec. Hang in there, Argenti." Idiot. Why is this so complex? He's almost got it...probably. His hands need to stop shaking though.
By the triple goddess, he has no idea whast he's doing, does he? If Ratio were here...
But he's not. It's just a pitiful, helpless gambler here. Something...dark in the back of his mind whispers that he could just leave. This isn't his problem. It offers to sink this panic into inky nothingness; all his concerns and problems could just go away-
"No!!" Aventurine snarls, letting himself feel, really feel, a small thrill of victory getting one strap undone. Just...three more? He thinks he's got it. More hysterical laughter bubbles in his chest. "You're lucky I don't feel like gambling on how well you can take imaginary blades, friend. It'd be so much easier if I could cut these straps to shreds, no?" Alas. Old fashioned armor removal it is.