MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHEN • PRESENT DAY • FYI

// SOMEWHEN  

The hum of the teleportation platform is familiar, filling your ears as the bright light dissipates enough to safely open your eyes. You feel something solid beneath your feet, and the lack of scent from the asphalt and dirt in Nuhiri and Deumia marks a departure from anything resembling a planet, the space around you giving you no reason to think anything of it. You're on the Ximilia once again — finally. Another mission successfully accomplished, for whatever other hardships you and the rest of the team have endured. Hot food and hot showers await, and Newt will surely be scurrying off to prepare for the team’s usual post-mission movie night.

You’re back and you can’t wait for Viveca to greet you, and for Degar to take the orb away, back to the North Wing to join the other ones.

Except … the station’s walls appear to be peeling, and some of the equipment looks a little older and unpolished. There’s even a layer of space-dust on one of the control boards. And most importantly: no one is here to greet you. As you turn and look to your fellow crewmates in confusion, even now some of you might start to wonder at the change of routine. Ivy, who had just been handling the orb, will be empty-handed, but surely there’s nothing to worry about. The station is peaceful and still. Nothing feels amiss … yet. And then:

// 0-L1V-14

Oh, hello. You are not the team I know. Yet you are here for the orb … Good.

The sound of 0-L1V-14 — or 'Olivia' as many have come to call her — voice springs to life around you. She almost seems to sound confused for a moment, clearly recalibrating her systems for this strange occurrence, before the gentle tenor of her voice regains its composure and she recalls her mission directive. The lights in the teleportation platform seem to glow just a little brighter, as though the arrival of the crew has buoyed the AI's spirits.

// 0-L1V-14

I've located one within the station, but it seems to have fractured. The air around them appears to have some sort of temporal disturbance that I can't quite pin down. Be cautious, but bring them to me before anything happens.

Well? You heard the AI. Best to start looking.

1.0   The first thing you might think to do is return to the sleeping quarters, either to clean up and change into another set of clothes; or to take a much-deserved nap; or maybe you just need a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts. The doors to the sleeping quarters seem to stick for a moment, which isn’t worrying in and of itself, but as the doors slide open you realize that you’re looking into a dark and empty carved out space that resembles a place for storage more than anything else. The walls and doors that used to make up your individual rooms are absent, and the floors are stripped bare, with rows of perforated grates allowing the cavernous space to remain relatively well-ventilated. It’s clear that no one has visited this room in quite some time, and perhaps there had once been plans for it, now abandoned to hold a stock of random items in its place.

There are boxes stacked against the wall, and a shelving unit that holds miscellaneous supplies: cans and boxes, batteries and wires, old bound notebooks made of paper. Rolls of rough tarp are haphazardly leaning against the wall to one corner, and thermal blankets are scattered amongst scraps of loose-leaf, a sketch of a cluster of spherical shapes in different colours, and other foreign knick-knacks that seem to have no place on a space station. If you decide to explore this space you’ll have to provide your own source of light as none of the lighting above seem to work though the row of fixtures that you’re used to seem, at least, to have been installed. They’re just not currently online.

Investigating the room a little deeper might draw you to a simple metal box sitting in the middle shelf next to what looks like a half-broken lute, its strings missing. There is no lock on this box, as though it wants to be opened, and lifting the lid will reveal a bright rosy-coloured light. Reaching out towards the small sliver of light in the shape of an elongated teardrop will recall a memory of your childhood so vivid, you’ll think you were back in that time, in that exact moment, to relive it again. Whether it's a good memory or a tragic one is left up to random chance. Only someone entering the room to talk you through your memory will remind you that you aren’t actually a child any longer.

2.0   Perhaps you decide to forgo the sleeping quarters entirely, and want to revisit one of your favourite simulations in the simulation room. Familiar oceans, the futuristic bar, or the room filled with adorable puppies might be your first choice — but every preset you’re used to scrolling through seems to be different now. There are the standard, familiar pre-mission training simulations, and even the Lodgen Mountain Mines mission appears to be here, but everything else has either been deleted … or it was never here to begin with.

You might decide to go ahead with one of the already existing simulations anyway, or you might want to start rewriting the one you’d come here for in the first place. It will depend on your luck, and it will depend on the success of your mission-training, but a small shard of bright, silvery coloured light may suddenly reveal itself to you. It appears like a thin tear-shape that hangs suspended in the air. The faintest whisper beckons you close; it’s familiar. Will you reach out to touch it? Doing so will colour the simulation room around you with a memory so real it might as well be — suddenly you might recall a happy moment in your life, or perhaps your greatest victory or adventure. This can be shared with whoever enters the simulation room with you or after you, and will fade when you manage to locate the right door and leave the room.

3.0   The sunlight room that you may have walked through on countless occasions is missing the familiar bridge, the river that runs beneath it, and trees that surround it. Instead, the vegetation around you appears to be far more deliberate and practical, thick foliage like bushes planted in rows, their large leaves covering most of the ground and soil. Several small metal boxes with wires and buttons can be found planted across the space, each with a thin rotating disc that whirs and spins quietly. Each of these boxes appears to give off readings, each screen displaying a continuous green wavy line scrolling across it and text that displays the quality of the air with a percentile grade, the amount of it being produced, and that particular box’s designation zone: Mess Hall, Storage, Living Quarters, and Teleportation Platform among others. This isn’t just a room that simulates nature, but if you were to approach any of the small bushes and saplings here, it’s clear that the plants here are real and they’re currently working to provide the rest of the station with oxygen.

Further to the back of the sunlight room, a bright sliver of colourful green light seems to glitter and glint between the leaves. It feels familiar in the way that it whispers faintly, and if you concentrate you can make out the sound of your name in a voice like that of someone from your past: a friend, perhaps, or a family member. Maybe a loved one or an enemy. Or perhaps it’s a voice you can’t actually recognize. It might compel you to reach out for the light, but will you listen? Or will you turn away?

If you embrace the light and call out in answer to the voice, you will re-experience the action, the conversation, or the thought that you attribute as being the reason you are who you are today with that most important person being the key piece in your memory.

4.0   Looking for your usual snacks? Feeling peckish for that bowl of instant spicy space-ramen you saved for post-mission? You might head into the kitchen expecting the familiar foodstuffs that you’re used to only to find that the room has been rearranged, with far fewer cupboards and appliances, and more of what looks like typical space-fare: freeze-fried items and nutrition-focused meals sealed into silver foiled bags. What ‘fresh’ ingredients exist are even less, and there are a stack of dirty plates and cutlery in the sink that don’t look like anything you or your crewmates might have used. You may already suspect that this whole station isn’t the one you’re used to, or you might still be in denial. Either way, you may find through your rummaging the call to a little sliver of coppery-coloured light located behind the freezer door.

If you decide to touch the fragment of light here, you’ll feel a ghostly burning as though the glint of the light has cut your skin, almost cold enough to feel sharp — but it’s just your imagination, isn’t it? What you remember now as it comes back to life around you (and the team member or members who may have joined you) is the best meal you’ve ever eaten, whether it is something you made for yourself, something made by your loved one, or the meal that leaves your heart feeling empty and aching.

5.0   You may have become so accustomed to seeing the North Wing doors sealed that it’s your curiosity that draws you forward to the wide expanse beyond the now open wing, your feet testing the threshold as if you’re expecting an invisible wall to keep you out. Nothing happens when you step into the North Wing, though you might immediately notice the large tank that holds all of the team’s successfully captured orbs is very clearly missing. And not only that but the space appears to be well lived in, a small cluster of worn chairs and a table set to one side, and data pads and drawings on white-boards in plain view. They don’t seem to be much more than a couple of crude strategy diagrams (and a couple of silly stick figures in one corner) and as you move towards the crew quarters, some of you might instantly recognize the familiar room with its rows of beds and a scattering of personal effects assigned to each bunk. Photos are pinned to walls of a twenty-person crew, pillows and blankets are left in disarray by unfinished knitting projects, a diary written in a language you can’t quite translate, and a stuffed elephant-shaped plush doll lies at the head of one of the beds in the middle of the room. By the door is a neatly made bed. An analogue paperback novel sits on the nightstand, a bookmark set in the middle to note its progress. On top of it is a well-kept watch stopped a little after the sixth hour and a medal of service in the now recognizable insignia of the Ndiera Complex’s Federation.

By the far wall of these sleeping quarters is a bright golden starlight that seems to illuminate that side of the room as though someone had turned on a torchlight to the highest setting; it’s almost blinding. Moving closer to it, you’ll find that it’s like all the other slivers of light scattered across the station — a broken shard, like a piece of a large puzzle. Touching it may pull you — and whoever might be in the room with you — into a memory from your time with the Ximilia crew, whether it happened over a year ago, or it happened only on the last mission. It might be a happy memory, or it might be something you regret, which is poignant considering your initial raison d’etre for being here at all. It’s a vision that appears from your perspective and while you relive it, you feel outside of yourself.

6.0   The rest of the station still appears to be intact, with the infirmary, the training room, and the armoury in the same locations that you remember. Those of you who have been here for quite some time, you’ll find your way around by muscle memory alone; but even if you’re a newer member of the crew you’ll have wandered the halls enough to know what feels familiar to you … and what doesn’t.

The infirmary looks to be a little out of date, though it looks as if it’s seen its fair share of use. And it’s smaller too, the more recent addition and surgical area missing from the cozy space. The training room and the armoury share similar qualities of seeming a little older, a little more lived in, and with well-used equipment and weapons to boot. The training room is still padded with firm padded flooring and benches for sitting. Some of the racks and hooks (all empty) that had been against the wall have fallen now, and similar to the teleportation room, you’ll find that some of the paneling in this room has since peeled away, revealing some of the bare structure behind them. In the armoury, you won’t find your favourite knife or preferred staff but there are still a few choices in weaponry to arm yourself with.

Wherever you decide to explore, you might once more happen upon a bright bluish light that seems to whisper and call to you in soft, hushed tones. No specific words can be picked out through the murmurs but the feeling is all the same — it draws you forward like a moth to flame, but whether you decide to reach a hand out to touch the sliver of light that hangs suspended in the air is entirely your choice. If you do, you might succumb to a vivid memory of a significant injury you or someone important to you had suffered once, reliving that moment with too sharp clarity. Those feelings of fear or threat or maybe even satisfaction seem to come to you again as though you were there again — only this time you may not be alone as you witness this memory, and someone else has entered the room with you.

● ● ●

Present Day.

The teleportation platform hums quietly in a clean, well-maintained room. No walls or floors appear to be even the least bit dented, and now the Commander of the Ximilia stands behind the control board, staring at the screen as though doing so will bring their crew back by some wild form of magic. Degar knows magic — he’d come from a world so full of it. This, however, is something different.

Beside him, Viveca scans through the data that had sent the crew into the Ndiera Complex, as it should have brought them back the same way, with the orb in tow.

// VIVECA

“I don’t know how it happened… they should have arrived here. Everything seemed normal! But I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

// DEGAR

“They could be anywhere, right? Except we can’t even help them if we don’t know where that might be.”

// VIVECA

“I know. The strange thing is that it seems that we’ve located another orb… only, it states that it’s here. On the station. So even if the platform sent them straight to it… why aren’t they here?”

The Commander and the AI both turn their gaze towards the still empty teleportation platform before exchanging worried glances with each other. Degar finally heaves an exhale but the frown in his features deepens.

// DEGAR

“Keep working at it. I’m going to see what I can figure out in the station’s systems. Maybe we can trace back to the team somewhere. Or somewhen.”

Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.

// VIVECA

“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP

F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the first two weeks of June.

• For this mission, we have decided to run the search request mechanic a little differently. Depending on whether your character decides to touch or grasp one or any of the slivers of coloured light that can be found throughout the station, you will have the opportunity to participate in a search request. More on this is explained HERE.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• Any in-character questions to 0-L1V-14 can be asked HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

TOP

▶ NAV

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Finn Mertens | Adventure Time | OTA

[heroooic]

I. SLEEPING QUARTERS (XIMILIA STATION)

[ The low thrum of the Ximilia’s workings envelopes them, once again, welcoming them home. Only not home.

Everything was wrong. No Degar, no Viveca. Olivia greets them instead. The lean, sterile visage of the the station had been replaced with that of a derelict. Dust and peeling finishes, the strobing flicker of halogen lights that had either been installed hastily…or in bad need of maintenance. It was like an echo of the place they had known. A ghostly shadow that Finn couldn’t shake the feeling they didn’t belong in.

Exploration comes next; crew members carefully fanning out, driven by instinct or curiosity, to explore the familiar-yet-unfamiliar territory. Finn is drawn, like many, to the sleeping quarters first. The natural first destination after returning from any mission; a place to shower, to change clothes, to relax.

Only that was long gone, replaced with a very different space, brimming with questions, and very few answers. ]

Dude, where’s all our stuff? [ Finn asks to no one in particular, picking up an unopened can that had been tossed haphazardly on the ground. The label was faded and worn, the words in a language Finn didn’t recognize. They’d probably be taking their chances on mystery can No. 36 though, if you asked him. ] Not that that’s the issue here, but…

II. ROSE (CHILDHOOD MEMORY)

[ The entrance never materializes, but somehow you’ve found your way into some kind of cavern. No… a fort. Made from blankets and pillows, corridors and passageways stretching into improbably long tunnels. It felt big. Bigger than any blanket fort made by a child should plausibly be. The height of it seemed too great, the paths labyrinthian.]

You’re not supposed to be here! [ The insistent voice of a young child comes from behind you. ] Adventurers only.

[ When you turn toward the voice, you’ll see your crewmate: Finn. He was much younger than you knew him, no more than five or six, but still easily identifiable by his familiar hat. Less characteristic was the boy's hard stare, fixed accusingly in your direction. ]

III. SILVER (HAPPY MEMORY)

[ The simulation room was dark. Or maybe it was gone entirely. The way the orb shards warped reality was somehow even more jarring inside a room that, itself, could warp reality. Or, rather, create a convincing illusion of it.

The other end of the room is covered completely in that oppressive darkness. A groaning hum of electricity or power vibrates beneath your skin, in your teeth. The air smells of ozone… and something sweet, almost reminiscent of a fairground. On either side, the incomplete metal husks of hulking creatures lay prone. Control panels were splayed open, wires and cables criss-cross the ground. There are blueprints on a nearby worktable, but looking at them is impossible; they read out of focus, fuzzy like an image with a bad resolution. Attempting to study them for too long makes your head hurt.

Instead, you’ll notice that there is a girl looking into one of the control panels. She’s not identifiable as any member of the crew. Humanoid, but clearly not human, with long black hair. When she turns to face you, you’ll see that she’s missing most of her right arm. ]

Princess-- [ Her dark eyes search your face, a startled expression quickly replaced with a rigid scowl. ] Who are you? If you’re here to stop me…

[ Her conviction seems to waver, whatever it was she was here to do, she had her own doubts. ]

IV. GREEN (DEFINING MEMORY) Closed to existing CR.

[ The flawless metal floors of the Ximilia suddenly give way to smooth, hard stone beneath your feet, and you find yourself in a large, cavernous room. The walls are all weathered stone, set by hand many centuries ago. Above you, the ceiling sits too high to see no matter how much you crane your neck. The air here feels close, stiflingly warm and still with the faint musty smell of abandoned places.

Nearer the center of the room, cast in dark shadow, sat several objects that seem out of place, plucked from an entirely different time. A wooden chair, a metal baking tin filled with dirt, and a plastic bucket, filled with trash. ]

No, no, no!

[ Finn’s voice comes from behind you, and turning, you’ll see him throwing himself at a sealed stone doorway, his shoulder crunching painfully against the unyielding wall of it. Gripping his arm, he glares hard at the door. ]

You’ll be back in a month? With a new bucket of trash?

[ His voice was high with frustration, disbelief, hurt. An emotional cascade that he seemed unable to control, breathing hard. ]

Rose

[homeostatic]

( No stranger to blanket forts, nonetheless McCoy is thrown by the scale of the thing. Its all soft and sweet, yet manages to be a bit imposing, with the curtain of blanket walls, the brick-like stacks of pillows. Joanna, he knows, would gleefully lose her mind in such a place, racing off to explore.

The small voice behind him interrupts his own little memory trip, and when he turns, he has to fight not to grin, to quash all the immediate, ooey-gooey marshmallow soft affection that springs to the fore.

Because... damnit, Finn is absolutely as cute as a bug's ear. )

Oh, I'm sorry, ( he apologizes, perfectly contrite. McCoy takes a knee so he's on Finn's level. )

I think I lost my way; see, I'm a doctor, not an adventurer.

[heroooic]

A doctor? [ Finn looks at him with wide, curious eyes, before his frown deepens. ] Where’s your jacket?

[ He takes a few steps closer, intrigued by the stranger, the intrusion well on its way to be forgiven. After all, half the fun of adventuring was meeting new people. ]

[homeostatic]

Mhmm, Doctor McCoy. I left my jacket at the hospital. It's a long way from here.

( it's true, just... yanno, on a different planet, in a different timeline... )

What's your name?

[heroooic]

[ The boy shifts excitably from one foot to the other, answering with great enthusiasm, almost before McCoy had finished asking his question. ]

Finn! [ It’s now that he holds up a crudely made wooden sword, grinning. ] I’m an adventurer!

[ Somewhere far off there was a distant…growling? It was hard to hear, muffled by the acoustically stagnant tunnels of soft pillows and blankets. ]

…are you here to look for treasure?

I

[drawsblood]

The way the walls are peeling, this doesn't feel like it could have happened while we were away.

[ Joric doesn't look entirely comfortable in the last vestiges of his gala outfit. The white dress shirt is streaked with stains and unbuttoned to the chest with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His gray dress slacks don't suit him at all and the dress shoes are no better. The jacket, tie, and vest were discarded before they even took a vote on whether to stay or go. ]

This place feels very old.

[heroooic]

Old and abandoned…

[ Finn lets the can fall back to the ground with a heavy clatter, rolling across the floor. He watches it go indifferently, hands on his hips. A glance at Joric made him grateful he’d decided to skip the gala. All their stuff might be missing, but at least he had sneakers. ]

Do you think we should explore? Maybe…someone’s still here. Or we can find some more useful stuff.

[ Since they were…going to be here awhile, it seemed. ]

[drawsblood]

[ Joric is definitely missing his standard look of a loose shirt, dark pants, and his boots from home. ]

Yes. We need to find out what's happened and how to set things right.

[ He frowns, looking at the state of things and remembering Olivia's words. ]

I suppose the orbs are to blame somehow. If we find the one here and the one we were supposed to bring back, maybe that will return things to normal?

[ Though honestly he doesn't like the solution being what most likely got them into this mess. ]

[heroooic]

Right! Easy, breezy.

[ Finn grins, turning and walking a few steps backwards down toward the darker end of the room, rifling through his backpack with one hand while he talks. ]

Aren’t the orbs always to blame? They’re big troublemakers, considering how much effort we go through to collect them…

[drawsblood]

It appears to be that way.

[ He follows, watching where his feet go as it becomes darker so he doesn't trip. ]

And it's even more the case this time since apparently it's in pieces. More to collect. Though at the moment I'm more worried about us having enough food to last however long we'll be here.

[ All of his careful hoarding of non-perishable food in his closet has come to nothing since they're not even there. Well, they're in the location, but not really. ]

[heroooic]

…do you think we’ll be here long enough for that to be a problem?

[ Finn at last pulls a dented and well-worn flashlight out of his backpack, clicking it on to at least partially light their way. It cast long shadows across the vacant room, scattered items of no value or use to them looking like pieces of jetsam in a dark sea. ]

[drawsblood]

I can't say one way or the other. What I can say is I was preparing for something to happen on the station like when Olivia took over and took away the lights and water. We are vulnerable as long as we're at the mercy of someone we can't trust for our supplies.

[ At least out in the wild a person can hunt or trap animals and collect vegetation to eat. If you fail out there it's because the resources don't exist in that area or everything in poisonous. Here it's hoping the AI doesn't let you starve or takes away your air. ]

greeeeeeen

[coordination]

[ It's an odd sight to get so worked up over. That's Yzak's first thought when his focus is pulled from those items in the room's center to Finn's reaction to it. But, context is everything, isn't it? That, and the pained tone of his voice is something familiar, as is the desperation in the action of throwing himself against that doorway. ]

Hey!

[ Yzak calls out to Finn when he doesn't cease, quickly stepping in his direction and putting a hand on his free shoulder. ]

Calm down! What's going on?

[heroooic]

The hand falling on his shoulder startles him more than the voice, and Finn turns abruptly toward the intruder, a look of startled confusion on his face. Maybe even a shadow of fear. ]

Who- [ Finn looks him up and down, a frown creasing the corner of his mouth as the blank confusion melts into recognition. Like a cracked door letting in light, a slow trickle of Ximilia memories came spilling into his mind, shaking the reality of this moment.

Right. The Ximilia. All this happened…well, not that long ago. A few months. ]

Yzak…I…you’re not supposed to be here.

[coordination]

No shit I'm not.

[ He speaks like it should be obvious, yet he still seems confused himself. ]

What is this place?

III. SILVER (HAPPY MEMORY)

[shadysided]

[She is seriously getting sick of the way these missions are going. And she is especially unhappy to find missions that are launching her into memories again; it's been, what? A year and a half since Remi's castle? And now her we are again, dabbling in strange trips back through a person's brain. She'd been linking for Finn particularly to see what he might've been able to find, but...

But this isn't Finn? She folds her arms with her own little scowl, watching the girl with some caution. Which is actually kind of hard, because she wants to poke around and be nosy in this strange room more than anything. Reminds her of all these fancy sci-fi missions she's way out of her depth for...]

I'm not here to stop you from — whatever you're doing. Unless you're about to blow this place up, or something. I don't exactly want to be extra crispy.

[That's the biggest point of concern about all of this. And a fair one!]

[heroooic]

Blow it up? [ Her response is incredulous, watching the newcomer with a feral cat’s caution. ] What am I, stupid?

[ She glowers a moment longer before relaxing very slightly. ]

…you’re not from the Candy Kingdom. [ She states it flatly, a bonafide fact, easily concluded from the simple, observable fact that this strange girl not made of candy. ] If you’re a thief, I should probably warn you, this place is already covered. You’re gonna have to find your own joint to case.

[ She pushes her hair over her shoulder and turns back toward the table with the blueprints, looking over them with feigned interest. ]

[shadysided]

I'm definitely not from Candy Kingdom.

The total opposite of a place called Candy Kingdom, probably. I'm from cursed lands.

[But that's whatever. What's more important is trying to figure out what the hell this memory has to do with anything; maybe Finn is planning on showing up sometime to combat the thief? She's not even sure if he deals with crime outside of monsters that try to eat people's heads, honestly.]

Why're you stealing from here, anyway?

Is this your day job or something?

[... She leans over to be nosy and look at the blueprints, of course.]

rose

[heyciri]

( Ciri had stood still, lifting her gaze to stare upward at the collection of improbable blankets and pillows forming a maze of the likes she's never seen. Even the concept is a certain kind of absurd to her, she who has never witnessed a blanket fort; in the vaguest sense familiar from postered beds and their draping fabrics, all meant for capturing heat or driving away light, not this.

She doesn't expect to be addressed by a child. Not because children don't speak to her, or don't speak up more often or more unconcerned with what shouldn't be said. She's surprised because until the moment where walking here had changed the world around her, and she stretched out with senses she barely understood, receiving answers she likewise didn't understand, a child being on the Ximilia strikes her as so significantly wrong that she immediately says: )

You're not supposed to be here either.

( The least convincing logic to any child, ever. Ciri pauses, pressing her lips into a thin line. All her experiences with peers, or children when she'd been a child, were either the controlled circumstances of her grandmother's supervised introductions, or the allowed illusion of freedom that was her sneaking out of the castle to play knucklebones with the children who lived outside her stone walls. )

... Not that I'm sure where this is.

( Squinting at that hat, and wondering, wondering, processing............. processing................................. )

... Finn?

( Still squinting. )

[heroooic]

I can be here! It’s my dungeon!

[ His implication being that he’d found it himself, as all great adventures do. Certainly not that his brothers had built it, at their father’s request, while Finn minimally helped with the late stage ornamental construction. Either way, the pillow dungeon of reality and the pillow dungeon enshrined in Finn’s memory as a young child, seem to have taken some serious divergences, not the least of which was in scale.

But all of that is secondarry; for now, he looks surprised by the recognition, her being a complete stranger to him. There would come a point in Finn’s life when being recognized by people he’d never met would feel commonplace. But at the tender age of only five or so, it strikes him merely as a compelling mystery. ]

I’m Finn! Who are you?

[ He holds up a wooden sword toward her, mostly in mock threat, backed by intense curiosity. ]

[heyciri]

( She... peers around the maze of blanket fort, quirking up both brows. Sure, why not claim it as a whole space? It's not like she has a reason to argue, other than finding it an odd sort of situation she can't quite relate to.

(Though she should. Claiming spaces because they belonged to her grandmother, and thus also her, was something she'd certainly done at his apparent age.) )

I'm Ciri.

( She glances to his wooden sword, reminded of the one Geralt had finally handed her when he'd accepted her request to learn to protect herself. Seeing the same here, in her mind, is... odd. It shouldn't be, she knows young children can start learning and tend to do so, but something just feels... odd. )

We meet when you're older, and in a different... dungeon?

( How is this a dungeon, where are the holding cells? She refrains from looking around, uncertain if doing so will manifest some, or saying so will inspire Finn into the manifesting of some. She's not actually fond of dungeons. Mildly fond of cold stone rooms, yes, but not dungeons. )

Called Ximilia.

[heroooic]

[ Something about the name did strike Finn as familiar…Ciri. It pinged some other memory in his mind; a memory of a memory. Or maybe an echo. But it didn’t break the spell, and five year old Finn doesn’t know Ciri, shaking his head exaggeratedly. ]

Dungeon’s don’t have names. [ He grins, like it was a joke she’d made. ] Dungeons are where you find treasure! Or fight monsters!

[ He swings the wooden sword clumsily for effect. ]

[heyciri]

... Mine did.

( she says, with a partial smile. it's half response to his grin, and also because... hell if she knows what to really do with kids. she's never had to deal with them, let alone child memories of teens older than she is. )

And I suppose monsters are in some dungeons, but ours usually only had people. Not all ones who deserved to be there. We had rats, too. Water? Stuffy air. Cold stone. Not very interesting if what you want are treasures. Monsters prefer less populated places where I'm from.

( this is entirely logical for a child of his apparent age. entirely. she's absolutely not sure of that at all, but she's also not sure what to do, particularly. only that this is less... intrusively terrible than most memories she's been swept sideways into. )

And you're right, Ximilia isn't exactly a dungeon. It's more like a really weird metal castle we all live in sometimes, before we go out on missions to find treasure and fight monsters.