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pluviooc2024-07-19 05:35 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviooc2024-07-19 05:35 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE 03
TEST DRIVE
Hello, and welcome to the third Pluviosa Test Drive!
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 20-27 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 19-27, including the end of our previous event. Because some of the prompts in this test drive have differences based on whether they occur on Days 20-23 or 24 and on, you may wish to choose a firm date for your character's arrival and note it in your top level for other players.
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!
Something jerks hard around your stomach, like a movement adruptly stopped. Something trickles through your hair, down the back of your neck - it's warm, and you get the feeling you know what it is.
But when you lift your neck to check, all there is is water. Somehow, counterintuitively, you feel a flash of disappointment. You feel someone's eyes on you...
As characters gain awareness of their surroundings, they will feel as though their head and neck are damp, as though they had just been in a light rain without any protection (even if they are, in fact, wearing a hat or hood). Unless they're particularly unlucky in the location where they wake up, though, the rain is in fact on the outside of the ship, and they are at most subject to humid air. Although the rainstorm in fact ends on Day 23, characters who arrive after that time will still be convinced that there is rain outside, complete with a hallucination of the sound of raindrops in the background, until they go to a window or an open-to-outside place (balconies, topside decks, etc) to check for themselves.
Rain aside, the feeling of being watched is stronger in the upper decks where characters arrive, which may send them seeking to go down instead of up. This might pose a problem in terms of actually making their way to the cleared, prepared-for-use parts of the ship... Especially with all that fresh rainwater breathing new life into the plants in the lower decks.
Note that prior to the rain ending, looking out the windows, glass balcony doors, or up into the domed roof of the passenger lounge will make it appear that the ship is underwater until late afternoon on Day 22. More information on this can be found on the So Below event posts. Additionally, the rainfall hitting the deck of the ship has a tendency to flood into the lower decks of the ship, particularly via the stairways and in rivulets down the hallways. It falls freely on the top deck and down into the open space in the center of the ship, though with less intensity than it does outside the ship's protective barrier.
And while going down decreased the feeling of eyes on you, it brings about other complications. Ghosts have been present on the ship for around a week now, and their time being visible is nearing its end as the ship comes above the old sea-level line on Day 22... At least as far as the longer-term passengers are concerned.
New arrivals, however, will continue to be able to see ghosts haunting the decks for the first 24 hours of their stay onboard the ship, regardless of the exact date of their arrival. These ghosts largely take the form of vacationers and researchers (as described here under the Haunting Feeling and Growing Shadows sections, respectively), and do not respond to attempts to interact with them any more than they did during the event. Less, even - once the ship is above the sea level line (evening of Day 23 and on), the ghosts perform their loops without registering any attempts to communicate with them. No matter what a character does, their attempts to interact with the spirits are for nothing - even standing in their path just gets you walked through as though you weren't there.
However, there are also a few new ghosts who only appear to the new arrivals, and are invisible to characters who were on board the ship previously:
-> A young man in extremely worn clothing, nursing a bruised jaw wanders the upper parts of Fern deck. When he sees the newly arrived character, he says "Oh, not more of this shit," aloud before turning and booking it off in another direction. Characters who chase him will find that he is visible and audible for a decent amount of time, but that his knowledge of the twists and turns of the Ship exceeds theirs and that he is unhindered by any of the overgrown vines as though they weren't there. As such, characters will inevitably fall behind and lose track of him.
-> At night, a dark-skinned woman can be seen in the lounge, looking back and forth between a glowing tablet she's holding and the sky above. If she notices a newly arrived character in the dimmed-to-nearly-nothing, she tells them in a firm voice, "You're not night shift. Go back to bed, you need your rest," before going back to whatever she's doing with her tablet screen. She fades slowly out of sight afterwards.
-> An androgynous person with a nearly-shaved head and a small flower dangling from a green marking over their ear comes out of the communal showers near the cafeteria. They glance around and ask, "Hey, did you see where that new guy with the eyepatch went?" but head off down the hallway without waiting for an answer, scrubbing at their cropped hair with a towel wrapped around their head.
-> A young woman in an open bathrobe with bandages around her middle looks out the back of the ship from the cafeteria deck, sitting with her feet dangling over the edge over where the ship's protective bubble attaches. Her light brown hair is blowing into her face constantly by the cafeteria's slight wind tunnel effect, but she doesn't seem to care, supporting herself by leaning her arms onto the lower rung of the railing. If approached, she gives a tired smile and says, "It's alright. I'm just waiting for that nice angel to come back," and resumes her watch out the back, not responding to any further questions or interactions.
These ghosts do not seem to register the presence of those who have been on board the ship more than 24 hours, even if pointed out directly. New arrivals who attempt to interact with the ghosts will be able to see and hear them, but not touch them. Attempting to touch a ghost in a way that 'proves' that they're not physically there (eg walking through them) causes the ghost to disappear, and they will not reappear.
Of course, the upper floors of the ship are not exactly free of eyes. A rather sizeable fleet of motorized drones zips around the hallways, ranging in size from knee-height to large enough to contain a moderately sized couch. The former are often equipped with scrubbing devices along their undersides, and work hard at portions of the floor in the hallways; the largest are functionally dumpsters on wheels, and other drones with long unfolding arms prune and rip plants from the walls, floors, and even the ceilings to fill them. These top two levels of Fern - not the open deck but the two floors immediately below - are clearly undergoing renovations, and renovations start with getting the plants out of the way. A few are even doing electrical or plumbing work, once things have dried up enough after the rain that it's safe to do so.
Since these are also the primary floors on which new arrivals wake up, it's very difficult to not come across some form of cleaning bot soon after arrival. However, there seems to be something a little... off about the ship's cleaning crew if you're a new arrival. They don't seem to register new arrivals as passengers yet; as a result, new characters may find themselves sprayed down with hot soapy water or subject to a set of surprisingly strong mechanical arms trying to shove them into a dumpster. Even if you aren't actively being aggressed by cleaning bots, they don't provide the kinds of loud "warning: backing up" noises they do for other passengers, nor do they slow down to avoid running you down in the still-mostly-dark hallways. The drones either have very good night vision or have some other way of finding their way around, since the only thing that brings them to a halt is particularly bad patches of floor.
Ship drones will continue to treat new arrivals as part of the walls (at best) or particularly stubborn plants in need of pruning (at worst) until either a light is shined on them - but beware, because this will cause any plants in the area to experience a surge of growth - or another, more known passenger intervenes. Admittedly, at that point the drones will be positively apologetic, as much as robots not equipped with voices can be. Soaked characters will be given a complimentary warm-air drying (if they stick around long enough) and anyone thrown in the dumpsters will be appropriately rescued - but it's still not all that great of a first impression, is it?
Or perhaps it's not the ghost of a person or the drones of the ship that you first encounter. It could be something significantly less civilized.
Strange animals have begun to appear in the ship's jungle - but you'd be forgiven for not noticing them at first. At rest, anyone would dismiss them as strangely shaped bundles of plant matter, because that's exactly what they are. Tails formed out of plaited vines; pelts and feathers formed of interlocked leaves; legs grown out of twisted wood with roots formed into toes. And, occasionally, sharp claws made of bent nails, fangs made of shattered glass, and antlers of rusted pipe, and, always, eyes like black pits that could swallow you up if you stared into them too long.
The 'animals' occupying Fern deck, if they can be called such, are formed out of plant matter with scattered bits of debris from the ship itself. They are, by and large, animals appropriate to the environment of the temperate rainforest that consumes the deck - no elephants or giraffes here. Deer, foxes, the occasional big cat or even a bear, and any number of smaller creatures... Smaller being a relative term, because the animals aren't always to their proper scale relative to humans. A deer might be only knee-high (antlers included), while a squirrel may come up to your waist. On most decks, they're limited to the height of the ceilings above them (9 feet or so), but if you manage to encounter them either on the open upper deck (with its much less height-limited tree canopy) or at the bottom (where the gap in the ship's decks, down the center, leaves lots of space for clearance above the mud and standing water), they could easily be taller.
Most of them are quite skittish, and will bound off into the jungle from which they came and disappear as though they were never there. A handful, though, respond as though threatened - or hungry. And while it might be funny to be stalked through the underbush by a cougar the size of a house cat, it will be less funny if it manages to sink its very real rusty claws into you, and getting trampled by a wooden deer whose antlers scrape the rotten ceiling tiles won't be fun at all.
It is possible to fight the animals, though most will make an attempt to flee if they get the chance, especially if you bring light or fire to bear against them. A 'killed' animal collapses into a pile of plant matter (leaves, branches, vines, etc) with the occasional bit of metal or glass; these heaps don't maintain their form as the 'body' of an animal and don't seem to have been connected together in any way. If lit on fire or otherwise affected by supernatural abilities, the animals react to this as an animal would be expected to, but their bodies are affected in ways consistent with the plant matter they're made of. In addition, no attempts at animal communication will work on them. On the other side of the coin, if you attempt to flee from them, most won't bother to give chase.
This Test Drive corresponds to Days 20-27 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 19-27, including the end of our previous event. Because some of the prompts in this test drive have differences based on whether they occur on Days 20-23 or 24 and on, you may wish to choose a firm date for your character's arrival and note it in your top level for other players.
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 - GAZE FROM THE CLOUDS
Something jerks hard around your stomach, like a movement adruptly stopped. Something trickles through your hair, down the back of your neck - it's warm, and you get the feeling you know what it is.
But when you lift your neck to check, all there is is water. Somehow, counterintuitively, you feel a flash of disappointment. You feel someone's eyes on you...
As characters gain awareness of their surroundings, they will feel as though their head and neck are damp, as though they had just been in a light rain without any protection (even if they are, in fact, wearing a hat or hood). Unless they're particularly unlucky in the location where they wake up, though, the rain is in fact on the outside of the ship, and they are at most subject to humid air. Although the rainstorm in fact ends on Day 23, characters who arrive after that time will still be convinced that there is rain outside, complete with a hallucination of the sound of raindrops in the background, until they go to a window or an open-to-outside place (balconies, topside decks, etc) to check for themselves.
Rain aside, the feeling of being watched is stronger in the upper decks where characters arrive, which may send them seeking to go down instead of up. This might pose a problem in terms of actually making their way to the cleared, prepared-for-use parts of the ship... Especially with all that fresh rainwater breathing new life into the plants in the lower decks.
Note that prior to the rain ending, looking out the windows, glass balcony doors, or up into the domed roof of the passenger lounge will make it appear that the ship is underwater until late afternoon on Day 22. More information on this can be found on the So Below event posts. Additionally, the rainfall hitting the deck of the ship has a tendency to flood into the lower decks of the ship, particularly via the stairways and in rivulets down the hallways. It falls freely on the top deck and down into the open space in the center of the ship, though with less intensity than it does outside the ship's protective barrier.
SOMEBODY'S FOOTSTEPS
And while going down decreased the feeling of eyes on you, it brings about other complications. Ghosts have been present on the ship for around a week now, and their time being visible is nearing its end as the ship comes above the old sea-level line on Day 22... At least as far as the longer-term passengers are concerned.
New arrivals, however, will continue to be able to see ghosts haunting the decks for the first 24 hours of their stay onboard the ship, regardless of the exact date of their arrival. These ghosts largely take the form of vacationers and researchers (as described here under the Haunting Feeling and Growing Shadows sections, respectively), and do not respond to attempts to interact with them any more than they did during the event. Less, even - once the ship is above the sea level line (evening of Day 23 and on), the ghosts perform their loops without registering any attempts to communicate with them. No matter what a character does, their attempts to interact with the spirits are for nothing - even standing in their path just gets you walked through as though you weren't there.
However, there are also a few new ghosts who only appear to the new arrivals, and are invisible to characters who were on board the ship previously:
-> A young man in extremely worn clothing, nursing a bruised jaw wanders the upper parts of Fern deck. When he sees the newly arrived character, he says "Oh, not more of this shit," aloud before turning and booking it off in another direction. Characters who chase him will find that he is visible and audible for a decent amount of time, but that his knowledge of the twists and turns of the Ship exceeds theirs and that he is unhindered by any of the overgrown vines as though they weren't there. As such, characters will inevitably fall behind and lose track of him.
-> At night, a dark-skinned woman can be seen in the lounge, looking back and forth between a glowing tablet she's holding and the sky above. If she notices a newly arrived character in the dimmed-to-nearly-nothing, she tells them in a firm voice, "You're not night shift. Go back to bed, you need your rest," before going back to whatever she's doing with her tablet screen. She fades slowly out of sight afterwards.
-> An androgynous person with a nearly-shaved head and a small flower dangling from a green marking over their ear comes out of the communal showers near the cafeteria. They glance around and ask, "Hey, did you see where that new guy with the eyepatch went?" but head off down the hallway without waiting for an answer, scrubbing at their cropped hair with a towel wrapped around their head.
-> A young woman in an open bathrobe with bandages around her middle looks out the back of the ship from the cafeteria deck, sitting with her feet dangling over the edge over where the ship's protective bubble attaches. Her light brown hair is blowing into her face constantly by the cafeteria's slight wind tunnel effect, but she doesn't seem to care, supporting herself by leaning her arms onto the lower rung of the railing. If approached, she gives a tired smile and says, "It's alright. I'm just waiting for that nice angel to come back," and resumes her watch out the back, not responding to any further questions or interactions.
These ghosts do not seem to register the presence of those who have been on board the ship more than 24 hours, even if pointed out directly. New arrivals who attempt to interact with the ghosts will be able to see and hear them, but not touch them. Attempting to touch a ghost in a way that 'proves' that they're not physically there (eg walking through them) causes the ghost to disappear, and they will not reappear.
JUST ANOTHER WORKDAY
Of course, the upper floors of the ship are not exactly free of eyes. A rather sizeable fleet of motorized drones zips around the hallways, ranging in size from knee-height to large enough to contain a moderately sized couch. The former are often equipped with scrubbing devices along their undersides, and work hard at portions of the floor in the hallways; the largest are functionally dumpsters on wheels, and other drones with long unfolding arms prune and rip plants from the walls, floors, and even the ceilings to fill them. These top two levels of Fern - not the open deck but the two floors immediately below - are clearly undergoing renovations, and renovations start with getting the plants out of the way. A few are even doing electrical or plumbing work, once things have dried up enough after the rain that it's safe to do so.
Since these are also the primary floors on which new arrivals wake up, it's very difficult to not come across some form of cleaning bot soon after arrival. However, there seems to be something a little... off about the ship's cleaning crew if you're a new arrival. They don't seem to register new arrivals as passengers yet; as a result, new characters may find themselves sprayed down with hot soapy water or subject to a set of surprisingly strong mechanical arms trying to shove them into a dumpster. Even if you aren't actively being aggressed by cleaning bots, they don't provide the kinds of loud "warning: backing up" noises they do for other passengers, nor do they slow down to avoid running you down in the still-mostly-dark hallways. The drones either have very good night vision or have some other way of finding their way around, since the only thing that brings them to a halt is particularly bad patches of floor.
Ship drones will continue to treat new arrivals as part of the walls (at best) or particularly stubborn plants in need of pruning (at worst) until either a light is shined on them - but beware, because this will cause any plants in the area to experience a surge of growth - or another, more known passenger intervenes. Admittedly, at that point the drones will be positively apologetic, as much as robots not equipped with voices can be. Soaked characters will be given a complimentary warm-air drying (if they stick around long enough) and anyone thrown in the dumpsters will be appropriately rescued - but it's still not all that great of a first impression, is it?
IDEAL CAMOUFLAGE
Or perhaps it's not the ghost of a person or the drones of the ship that you first encounter. It could be something significantly less civilized.
Strange animals have begun to appear in the ship's jungle - but you'd be forgiven for not noticing them at first. At rest, anyone would dismiss them as strangely shaped bundles of plant matter, because that's exactly what they are. Tails formed out of plaited vines; pelts and feathers formed of interlocked leaves; legs grown out of twisted wood with roots formed into toes. And, occasionally, sharp claws made of bent nails, fangs made of shattered glass, and antlers of rusted pipe, and, always, eyes like black pits that could swallow you up if you stared into them too long.
The 'animals' occupying Fern deck, if they can be called such, are formed out of plant matter with scattered bits of debris from the ship itself. They are, by and large, animals appropriate to the environment of the temperate rainforest that consumes the deck - no elephants or giraffes here. Deer, foxes, the occasional big cat or even a bear, and any number of smaller creatures... Smaller being a relative term, because the animals aren't always to their proper scale relative to humans. A deer might be only knee-high (antlers included), while a squirrel may come up to your waist. On most decks, they're limited to the height of the ceilings above them (9 feet or so), but if you manage to encounter them either on the open upper deck (with its much less height-limited tree canopy) or at the bottom (where the gap in the ship's decks, down the center, leaves lots of space for clearance above the mud and standing water), they could easily be taller.
Most of them are quite skittish, and will bound off into the jungle from which they came and disappear as though they were never there. A handful, though, respond as though threatened - or hungry. And while it might be funny to be stalked through the underbush by a cougar the size of a house cat, it will be less funny if it manages to sink its very real rusty claws into you, and getting trampled by a wooden deer whose antlers scrape the rotten ceiling tiles won't be fun at all.
It is possible to fight the animals, though most will make an attempt to flee if they get the chance, especially if you bring light or fire to bear against them. A 'killed' animal collapses into a pile of plant matter (leaves, branches, vines, etc) with the occasional bit of metal or glass; these heaps don't maintain their form as the 'body' of an animal and don't seem to have been connected together in any way. If lit on fire or otherwise affected by supernatural abilities, the animals react to this as an animal would be expected to, but their bodies are affected in ways consistent with the plant matter they're made of. In addition, no attempts at animal communication will work on them. On the other side of the coin, if you attempt to flee from them, most won't bother to give chase.
Tough challange, he keeps giving him reasons to hold onto it. AKA Flamebringer: His vibes are Rancid
"It gets business over with." He grunts.
The guy sure is content to take his time. If he's trying to make Flamebringer uneasy by doing so, well he's succeeded. But he was no stranger to playing games. He'd wait. He knew how to be patient.
Flamebringer tilts his head, eyes narrowing minutely, "No. No it doesn't." Sounded professional. Maybe he had guessed right, and this guy had some authority and therefore, power, over this place. Although if he was a guy in authority, he sure did dress casual for it.
He was withholding information that was for sure. He had the energy of somebody who held all the cards, and was having a little too much fun revealing them as slowly as he pleased. It made Flamebringer's skin crawl. People could call Flamebringer what they wanted, but he at least was straightforward. He hated the seedy merchant types, always trying to get more. This guy would fit right in.
He didn't move to threaten. But if he ever so subtly shifted his posture to let the light bounce off the recently sharpened edge of his katana... Well, nobody could prove anything.
"...'Vidyadhara'?" He asks. That was a new one. And it didn't sound like an insult. Actually it sounded like the most genuine thing out of this guy's mouth so far. His tail flicks behind him, "...I've been called many things. But that's a new one." his eyes narrow, "What's it to you, what I am?" If the guy was interested in killing sarkaz, he'd think he'd recognize one when he saw one. Flamebringer was more interested in why he bothered to ask if he had nothing to gain or lose by doing so.
Whaaaaat he's just having a friendly chat, nothing more :)
How does he know this person won't kill him the moment he lets his guard down? If he reveals his hand in full, with nothing else to give? He can't have that. He notes the guy's body language, the slight shift of balance as Aventurine just drinks his juice for a moment. Clearly not comfortable, but not fully angry either. If he can push that much, he can push more.
...but he's not cruel. He can give a little more information. "If you don't know about the Inter-astral Peace Corporation, then you're likely not from my cosmos. Universe. World. Whatever you call it. That's fine," he says, eyes flicking to the other man's eyes over the tipped mug. "I'm on...leave, anyway. The less work I have to do on my time off, the better, right?" A hint that they're on more equal footing than he'd probably first implied.
The light glints off the blade, and Aventurine's fingers twitch ever so slightly, his breath hitching a fraction, his heart thumping with fear and the thrill of a game in equal measure. He sighs, setting the mug down, flipping over a card. "You don't need that weapon here, friend. I'm unarmed as you can see; I won't hurt you if that's what you're worried about~" he chuckles. He probably cuts a...less than intimidating figure in the baggy jacket, the disheveled dress shirt beneath, the bandaged hands. He knows his hair is getting pretty long too lately...he's had other priorities lately. That's probably for the best here, if the man is worried he's a threat.
The questions do get him to look up, a hint of surprise on his face. "Oh you know...the long lived species of dragon-people? Most are from the Xianzhou Alliance, but they could be other places I suppose..." He tilts his head, eyeing the black scales and horns. One of the horns is broken, however... "I get you're not from where I am, but the resemblance was striking."
'I've been called many things...' Something about how he says that strikes a chord with him. And he doesn't miss how the man hasn't given his name still. He huffs, smile losing its edge and growing amused. "Just making conversation, friend, nothing more." He props his cheek up on his hand, eyes curious. "You say you've been called many things. Like what?" He chuckles again, eyes closing tiredly. "I understand if the topic is sensitive, however, Truly, I do. But perhaps you can tell me what you'd like to be called instead?"
To the man who wants to chat the least. Got his name tho.
This guy sure like the sound of his own voice... He wasn't going to say no to more information however. But... He was saying he, wasn't, from Terra? That wasn't- that couldn't- He knew there was, stuff, out in space. But the idea of there being other people, other civilizations, that wasn't something he really gave a single LMD to. At least not without proof. He'd heard too many crazy old people going on and on about it... and overheard too many punk kids discussing how to use their fledgling arts to prank said old people.
He mentally forced himself to put that aside, for now, hoping his shock didn't show on his face all that much, he didn't want to lose any kind of edge in this little game of theirs. And this guy could be lying for all he knew. Or could also be one of those conspiracy theorists... Maybe a fool who got recruited into a delusional cult.
Regardless, right now it wasn't important. He grit his teeth, pulling himself out of the thought spiral and focusing on the conversation at hand again.
If he was feeling any more comfortable with this man he'd do a show of giving this room a distinctly unimpressed once-over, "Pretty shoddy place for a vacation," he says dryly.
Flamebringer's sharper hearing picks up the hitch and he doesn't really grin. But maybe someone could spot a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I'll be the judge of that, blondie." This guy was sly enough to be an adept arts user who was just hiding his cards. Or who knew what else. He could also be telling the truth, given his nervous reaction. Or he's just not confident he could win in a fight against Flamebringer.
Good.
Flamebringer considers that description. If this guy truly wasn't from Terra... for now he'd play along. "... Sounds like a lungman. And I've never heard of this, Alliance." Sounds too fancy for his pay grade. He tilts his head, "Can't imagine how. Lungmen don't look anything like me." Despite his suspicions and wariness he was, curious. And he couldn't imagine a world where he'd be mistaken for anything but what he was.
The way this man says friend makes Flamebringer want to walk away. Or give the guy a warning souvenir. The falseness of it just dripped off of his tongue like poison. Still he restrains himself. This is the first person who he's actually been able to talk to and he needs what advantages he can get. No matter how deplorable he found the other party.
For once, he grins, toothy, letting his fangs show, "A few names. Murderer. Devil. Demon. Plague-bringer. Harbinger. An ill omen." He laughs, there is no humor in it, it is a harsh noise, "Too many to remember or count at this point."
Flamebringer puts on the part for a moment, seeing how this man will react. Seeing what will happen.
Despite his bravado though... the man does seem to visibly deflate when he asks, so Flamebringer pauses, considering, the almost feral grin disappearing, fading into a more grim, but also slightly, softer, expression; laced with consideration.
His voice that was harsh before, is suddenly much quieter, and softer, "... but you can call me Flamebringer." His eyes stare into the man before him, almost if fueled by an internal fire within him. No longer a harsh glare, but a sure presence, to be handled with respect, as all fire should be.
Oh yay! Aven is being a little less insufferble now with it :D
This guy doesn't seem to believe him either which is. Also fair. He's just some guy on a ship, what does he know? He does chuckle at the mention of the ship being shoddy, however. "It's not like I picked this place. And crazy as it seems, it's better than where I was...before." He stares down at the coffee in the mug for a moment, the depths looking blacker than they should, pulling his thoughts and feelings and very being down and in, drowning him-
He blinks, his jaw clenching as he looks up, his smile more strained. "Could be worse. And the ship's AI is working very hard to make the place more hospitable for us...calling it shoddy might offend it, you know!" he teases, his smile going crooked as he jabs an accusing finger at the guy, much too far away to actually make contact.
When he turns his sword, Aventurine does notice an odd mark on the man's wrist. It's hard to make out from this distance...it itches at something in his brain. Which is odd, it just....it's another black scale, isn't it? Weird. Maybe he'll take a closer look when the guy isn't threatening to gut him. Curiosity doesn't have to kill the cat.
"'Lungman', huh? That's...yeah, ok, haven't heard that one." Do they have impressive breathing or something? Lungs... "And that's just as well. Confirms some of my running theories here, actually," he hums, flipping over another card to score some points. Distracted by that, and as tired as he is, he doesn't think too much before answering, "Well, Vidyadhara have horns kinda like yours, even if one looks broken for you...and the scales, the tail...the resemblance is striking." He wonders if he has a picture somewhere...nah. The Vidyadhara he knows even in passing...it'd be rude to take pictures of or with them. So he just grins crookedly. "My mistake."
Aventurine does note the way the man's lip curls a little at being called friend, which is honestly pretty funny. All the more reason to give him something else to call him by~
But then....the names. If they can even be called that. There is venom in his voice as he lists them off...the bite of a dog that had been kicked one too many times, lashing out, snarling with vindication and deeply seated rage, this is what you made me, this is what I'm called, aren't you happy to be right? It's all Aventurine can do to not flinch in the face of it. His eyes do widen a little though, his smile fading.
It's not the harshness that strikes him. While that does make his leg bounce faster, it's...he...recognizes it, somehow. Maybe. He could be wrong. But it reminds him too much of when he's called honey tongue or liar or a sand devil-- how he just has to smile and take it because if he lashes out it'll give them what they want, it'll get worse...how he has to take those names and use them as weapons and armor, even if he hates them.
How he's being true to those names in this very moment, with this complete stranger. The IPC isn't here. He has no reason to...do this. He...he feels a little sick.
He takes a slow breath in, then lets it out..."Those are rather...strong titles, indeed." They bring many questions to mind. Plague-bringer? An ill omen catches his attention as well, as one "blessed" with incredible luck. Funnily enough, they don't...scare him, really, even as the man bears his fangs to spit them out. Aventurine eyes the sword. "I do wonder if you earned those names yourself, or if it's just...people being people." He huffs, a resigned amusement in his posture. "Stars know people are quick to stick fearsome labels on what they don't understand." He shakes his head, flipping another card. "I'd still prefer a name, I think."
And then the harsh aura eases, the man's posture softening...fangs again covered, the social claws retracting; still there but put away for now. There's a quiet intensity to the given name, how he says it. Flamebringer. It's likely not a real name, but then again, who is he, a man who clings to the title of a gem as a shield, to judge that? His fingers slow in their fidgeting with the cards as he takes it in, staring into the face of this fire with more interest than fear now.
He can't help thinking of an old legend he'd heard, of a man who stole fire from aeons to give light to mortals. He wonders if that's an inspiration for this man?
"Flamebringer. Bit of a mouthful, but I'm not one to talk," he chuckles, his smile much more real than it had been before, a quieter thing. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but I believe that would be pushing my luck here. But situation aside, it's nice to meet you, Flamebringer."
An unexpected outcome
So he also didn't show up here willingly? If a single word out of his mouth was to be believed. The man, he said his name was Aventurine? Aventurine suddenly zones out, staring down at his coffee, words trailing off. For a person who started off so confident and bold, his act was slipping. Badly.
He recovers and finishes his little scolding at Flamebringer's judgement. But its clear to Flamebringer that it takes effort. "If this dang ship cares so much about my opinion, it can let me off or send me back." He says, unimpressed. If he hurt the computer's poor feelings then it should try harder. His expression remains blank in the face of Aventurine's little show of bravado, although he does tense slightly at the hand gesture. He could only be ready for so much... hopefully Aventurine wasn't trying to activate arts on him sneakily. He could handle a lot, but there was a reason he hadn't put his sword away despite Aventurine's claim of innocence.
The guy gets distracted looking at Flamebringer's sword hand for a second, before he gets back on track.
Well if he wasn't lying then that did confirm, neither of them walked the same earth. Or if they did, Aventurine came from a very different sector of Terra then Flamebringer did. Which wasn't a possibility he could rule out yet. Weird cult who brainwashed its members was still very much on the table. Aventurine doesn't share any of these theories. Big surprise. At this point Flamebringer is expecting some kind of declaration of an 'equivalent exchange' for any information he manages to get off of this guy. To which he has a very simple answer held very securely in the fingers of his left hand, and has often been good enough payment for every merchant who's ever tried to swindle him in their greed.
Flamebringer starts to make a face. All three of his horns are perfectly fine, thanks. But it wasn't the first time somebody had made that mistake. Heck, even some sarkaz of his own species had made the mistake at a distance. It was common enough to see broken horns, and the different variety of horn types and amounts made it impossible for everybody to know what they should be looking at. He wasn't even innocent of assuming incorrectly at a distance. Everybody kind of got used to it and nobody really cared. But at this distance, about two feet away from Aventurine, he figured it'd be pretty obvious-
Scales.
Flamebringer can almost feel the hardened, black spots itch with the acknowledgement. His blood rise in heat in response. Nothing changes outwardly. His expression doesn't shift.
If this man was from Terra, he was either playing hard to get with the ignorance game, or he was one of those lucky, probably rich, schmucks, who knew nothing of the real world. Flamebringer's eyes briefly flicker to the bandages covering the entirety of both of Aventurine's hands...
"...these aren't scales." He says. Watching Aventurine intensely. Depending on his reaction, Flamebringer might get an answer to whether or not the whole, 'other worlds', nonsense, was a real thing, or if Aventurine was trying to string him along for his own, sadistic, entertainment.
Flamebringer said what he said to get a reaction. To see if this, Aventurine of the IPC was one of the cowards, somebody who's smug, venom saturated smile, would fall, blood turning to ice, eyes filling with tears, tears of fear. Willing to go crying and whining back to their mothers and fathers like a newborn child, a person who's only surety in life was cold, hard money, as cold as the smiles they pretended to wear.
Or if he was a so called hero. The kind who's faces twisted with rage, who's blood would boil hot, much like his own. Who's smile would mutate into a scowl, carved with hatred, and bloodshed, and years of lies and assumptions and scars. Somebody who'd stand up, draw their weapon, and end- well, try to end- Flamebringer on the spot. All reason, all friendliness, smothered on the spot.
Or maybe he was a diplomat. Those guys who said they had all the answers, yet had none of them. Who would keep their superficial cool. And do nothing. Because they had nothing to lose. They were already winning.
But when he watches Aventurine's face he doesn't see any of the things he expects.
His eyes widen, and finally that smug smile is whipped off his face. A sick sense of satisfaction curls in his gut. He had gotten what he wanted. What he expected. But Aventurine doesn't flinch, and what Flamebringer sees on his face... it doesn't- Its not- Its not fear. He's not exactly sure what it is.
Aventurine's voice isn't loud, but it commands Flamebringer's attention like it was shouted from a loudspeaker. For a moment he thinks he did succeed in intimidating him when he sees his eyes flicker to his sword again, but what he says contradicts this immediately. He doesn't move. Feeling. Exposed. Mind racing, turning over what Aventurine had said.
... This guy was full of surprises...
Now that Flamebringer is no longer bearing his metaphorical and literal fangs, and between them there is no longer all that fake anger and smiles, just air and dust, Aventurine looks him in the eyes, no longer glancing away or making faces to try to appease or manipulate him. Huh. This guy had some strange eyes. They were turquoise on the outside, but purple on the inside... and what little light was cast into the room didn't seem to hit them...
Flamebringer listens intently to the way that Aventurine's laughter rumbles in his chest, it sounded... real. Human. None of the games and show from before. Just a person. Talking too... another person.
...
"It'd be in your best interest that you don't." He says, but he says it like a fact. Not a threat.
I love getting a good grade in social interactions, which is totally normal and possible to achie-
"It seems there haven't been passengers on this ship for 300 years...until about two weeks ago. And the ship is just as confused about us being here as we are." He sighs, giving an apologetic shrug. "Everyone that got here is still here. We're trying to figure it out, but no one's been able to go home yet...sorry." He's...still kinda flippant, but he really does seem almost commiserating about it. Just because he doesn't really have a home to return to doesn't mean others don't, after all.
He sees Flamebringer make a face about the horns comment, but Aventurine just barrels on. And the off-put expression smooths out to something suspiciously blank at pointing out the scales. Aventurine feels something like a chill, and winces internally. He must have stepped on a social landmine...
He raises his hands, palms out in a signal for peace...he hopes it's universal. "My apologies. Your...skin condition? It must be a sensitive topic. I've not seen anything quite like it, forgive my mistake," he says, backpedaling a little but with a still general easy attitude. Getting all nervous now will only raise tensions.
He notes the man glancing at his own hands, which are wrapped in bandages. Well...maybe it'll even the playing field to give more...sensitive information of his own. "Ah. Yeah this is...from an accident on this ship. An ill advised weed whacking attempt on my part," he chuckles, folding his hands back down on the table. It's not the whole story, but there's no need to bore Flamebringer with the details.
But there's no fear or rage or attempts to attack the guy of any kind. To Aventurine, it's like he'd accidentally called out an abnormally obvious birthmark instead of...well. A deadly, terminal illness. He has no idea what Oripathy is, how would he know? He does get the feeling he's missing something here, but it's not his place to pry, now, is it?
Now, this Flamebringer isn't...the easiest person to read. That's surprising for someone with what seems to be such a simmering temper, but he does have a careful control about his expressions and movements that spoke of diligent training and discipline over a long period of time. Possibly military of some sort. Still...there are some tells. The way his jaw slackens a little when Aventurine says his piece...he wasn't expecting that, to the point it seems to leave Flamebringer floundering a little.
Aventurine's expression softens a little at that. Not pity, not at all. Just...that strange understanding from before, growing, gnawing at his own suspicious edges. He knows what it's like to expect the worst from people, not knowing what to do when the metaphorical shoe never drops. He's...growing used to kinder people on this ship, but it's still...it's hard. It's really hard.
He feels...sadness too. That he was just playing the role of that poisonous personality he'd had to endure for himself for so long, and he'd been doing it so naturally.
Eugh. No time for kicking himself right now.
Aventurine...lets out a long breath, his smile worn around the edges. "That's alright. I get not wanting to be touched. Still," he gestures to the other chair at the table. "Care to have a seat, Flamebringer? It will make for more pleasant conversation. Or..." he tilts his head, looking over at the food area. "If you're hungry, you can grab a snack or something. It's all free and pretty good;" he hums, sounding just a little disbelieving, as this is still too good to be true to him. "It's alot of choices; I got recommendations if you want them."
[TERMINAL ILLNESS TW] Flamebringer once again issues an extremely sad and concerning vibe check
"..." Flamebringer studies Aventurine's face. The smile less 'happy' than before, but something about it had changed, shifted from the untrustworthy, manipulative, decadent thing he'd seen before, to something more sincere. It reminded him of the smiles the Doctor sometimes gave him when it had been a long day, and despite her best efforts and careful planning, things had not gone according to plan, and yet she decided to remain resilient in the face of it all.
He still doesn't trust this man. But then, there were very few people he actually did trust, he could count the exact number on his finger tips. But... for now.
He sighs out his nose, a much more subtle and subdued sense of exhaustion passing over his face and posture as his body relaxed from its coiled, predatory stance. He pulled his sword, sheath and all, out of his belt, and slid into the booth, sitting opposite of Aventurine. His sword settled reassuringly across his lap.
He was certain he didn't have to explain to Aventurine that this his way of saying 'I'm willing to give you a chance, but don't try any funny business.' If he'd learned anything from this exchange, it was that Aventurine was smarter, and more observant than he let on. A dangerous enemy. Or a valuable ally.
"I'll eat something later." He says dismissively as he sits down. He is surprised that he actually is hungry. He hadn't been in this place for long... how long had he been out..?
The moment he settles he continues their conversation, "Its not a matter of whether or not I like being touched." He states, eyes returning to Aventurine's face, "... You don't know what this is." He states, not asks, running his fingers over the originium crystals on his face. "This is the mark, of oripathy. The mark of the infected."
"Where I'm from, you're either rich, or incredibly sheltered, to not know what this is." His eyes briefly glance to Aventurine's bandaged hands again, before he lets his hand drop to the table, gaze drifting off for a moment. "... Its a disease. Slowly killing the body of the person infected with it, sometimes disabling them physically, or mentally." his gaze returns to Aventurine abruptly, "It can greatly enhance the arts of an infected, or give them arts if they didn't have any in the first place, but using the enhancements drawn from the originium crystals only speeds up your expiration date."
He smirks again, although not really at Aventurine, and once again there is no humor or joy in it, "And when you die? The crystals inside your organs explode, releasing oripathy into the air, infecting anybody unlucky enough to breathe it in."
His sharp smile falls, "... Its also transmitted by blood. Or if you were to cut yourself on any originium crystals, like the ones growing on me like mold." His gaze is intense, as he looks Aventurine directly in the eyes, "So. Do you still want to shake my hand?" Its said like a question, but there's a distinct sense of challenge to his voice, despite the way his expression stays neutral.
OH sweetie. Oh honey. I'm so sorry.
Aventurine blinks when that's all put away though, and the man settles in across from him. He did look...vaguely haggard for a second. Perhaps...they're both a bit tired keeping up appearances. Posturing st each other to survive....if that's what that was, anyway. He sighs, his shoulders loosening a little, his smile coming more easily, more tired and genuine.
The unsaid message is recieved. He's not making any sudden moves. If anything, Aventurine almost deflates a little without the obvious threat looming over him. Good development.
"Alright then. It's not going anywhere, so make sure to get a bite to eat sometime." He winces a little, having made the mistake of forgetting once too many times...
He focuses up when Flamebringer speaks more, that kind of voice demanding respect like the fires the man is named after. Aventurine shakes his head. He doesn't know what that is, clearly. He's grateful for an explanation. Even if he goes pale getting the name..."Oripathy...?" Infected? It sounds like a curse, a swear. Condemnation, the way he says it. Wow he really stepped in it this time....
"Ha. Neither of those, I'm afraid." The IPC made him "rich", but not in a way that mattered. One wrong move and his leash would be pulled taut..."All the world's I've been to, and I've never heard of this."
He listens intently, his eyes going wider, the blood draining from his face as Flamebringer explains. Aeons. That's...
Aventurine's smile is long gone, treating this information with the weight it has and deserves. "Arts...are like path energy, right? Magic?" He's pretty sure he's following that right. "And that's...something you can do. But then shouldn't because...it's dangerous. Harder on the body." Stars and sands, that's...wow.
And on top of all thay he has to worry about exploding on death. Talk about a grand exit...although this is something even Aventirine isn't sure he can stomach.
And being transferred by blood...."No. I think I'm good, thanks," Aventurine responds quietly, some levity to his tone but no real mirth to it. "Thanks for the...warning. There are other ways to greet people; it's not worth it."
He sighs, leaning back and rubbing the back of his neck. What a mess. "And...sorry. I really didn't know. That's...alot. Wow." Dual toned eyes flick back to Flamebringer, wondering...Ratio did cure some rampant diseases out there. So maybe..."I still think you should see my doctor friend sometime. He...knows alot of things. I'll bet my life he would know a way to make that at least less painful for you." It's gotta be. Rocks growing out of the skin? Aeons...no wonder this man is so composed. If this is something he'd had to deal with for so long...
(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ finger guns
Flamebringer pauses at the insistence he eat, catching the flinch.... hm. "Your concern is... noted." He says. This guy sure warmed up to people fast. Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd ran into the odd kind of stranger who had a penchant for feeding others, or making sure they were fed. Starvation left its own kinds of invisible scars.
Aventurine is an attentive listener. The shady merchant disposition he had before was all but gone, his expression was open and well, expressive as Flamebringer explained the plight of the infected. Well he sure changed his tune fast. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, careful not to narrow his eyes at Aventurine. It was kind of uncanny and disconcerting to be honest. Was this a different kind of act? Compliance instead of games? To get on Flamebringer's good side..?
He mentally sighed, putting that aside for now. It didn't really matter what Aventurine was after, as long as he didn't bother Flamebringer or try to stab him in the back, it wasn't his problem.
"Path energy?" he repeats, leaning back and crossing his arms, "Now you're saying stuff that sounds like nonsense to me. Magic is something different... but I suppose its a decent enough comparison to arts, yes. Arts grant the user a supernatural ability, something that they can use to manipulate a force, sense, skill, or whatever have you, to their will." He paused giving Aventurine time to process that, "If your 'path energy' works the same, or similar, then yeah, sure, they're alike."
Flamebringer considered for a moment, then nodded, "Yes. I have arts." He confirmed. If Aventurine was unlucky, he'd get a live demonstration today. But he was going to keep that card close to his chest unless he was given a good reason to reduce something or someone to ashes. "My arts will only make my oripathy worse if I draw on the power of the originium crystals." He sighed, "Otherwise, its fine. My arts were mine before I became infected. But yes. Pushing it is a bad idea."
Flamebringer inspected Aventurine's pale face in the ensuing silence, looking over every shift in expression. The guy had taken all that he'd said seriously. Which was interesting in of itself, given how they'd just been having a verbal sparing match. However, he supposed both of them had dropped the posturing in favor of a genuine information exchange, so maybe Aventurine had no reason to doubt his words at this point.
When Aventurine declines the handshake again, a sense of cold satisfaction starts to wash over him- only to abruptly halt at his next words...
He wasn't scared. He was only going to take precautions. He even said thanks. "... You're welcome." he said after hesitating. Being thanked for this impromptu explanation was... weird. Felt like getting thanked for giving somebody a paper cut.
Flamebringer is taken aback by the apology. Aventurine had said, 'worlds'. He guesses- well, if you had no idea somebody had a terminal illness and rather blatantly pointed it out it would be kind of rude, and the right social thing to do was apologize in that case... Still it felt strange hear, and kind of... wrong. The admittance of oripathy was usually greeted by sorry, fear, hatred, or grim acceptance. Or in the case of Rhodes Island, medical efficiency. But they were a strange exception. "... It's fine." He says, awkwardly. Not really sure what to do with this strange new experience, "Now you know." He finishes flatly.
A doctor. Flamebringer doesn't even bother to hide his derisive snort. "No offense to your doctor friend..." he trails off, the words ringing of deja vu. His gaze grows distant as he looks out into the cafeteria, an old, old memory coming to mind...
"No offense to your doctor friend," a voice that still sounds the same, but tainted with the kind of arrogance that came from being younger... less worn, "but nobody can cure oripathy. She's wasting her time."
... "... There's nothing he can do." He pushed the old memory out of his mind, and all the different emotions it dug up, "Smarter people have tried... for a long time." He says the last part quietly, to himself... he shakes himself out of this, c'mon, this is pathetic and not the time. "And I'm not keen on being a lab musbeast for anybody," He finishes, tone snappish.