![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ximilian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ximilialog2021-09-08 08:21 pm
- ! event log,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- caos: zelda spellman,
- cotar: rhysand,
- critical role: percy de rolo,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: river song,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- doctor who: the doctor (12),
- grishaverse: alina starkov,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed destiny: athrun zala,
- gundam seed destiny: cagalli yula athha,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: erik stevens,
- mcu: peter quill,
- mcu: sam wilson,
- mcu: tony stark,
- mcu: yelena belova,
- one piece: rosinante donquixote,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the magicians: quentin coldwater,
- the old guard: andromache,
- the untamed: jiang yanli,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: BRASS DEVIL, PART 1
● ● ● M I S S I O N 2 . 1
It’s early morning when the unmistakable ping of a message filters directly into the minds of everyone on the station. It is a text file labeled “Braccia Orb” — for the Gyeongje veterans, the meaning is clear: another mission awaits. For the newbies the file may cause some confusion, but once they have read the file and the information within, they will get another message of a female voice instructing them to pack their things, fast.
Once you head to the center of the station, the platform there is once again humming with power… but when you step on it, nothing happens — until the very last member of the team makes it there. Then, the noise of the machine gears up to eleven, the lights around the platform burning brighter and brighter. Through the hum, Viveca speaks:
And remember, if you die down there… there’s nothing we’ll be able to do about that. So keep your heads down until it’s time, and stay safe.
Her parting words are barely audible, and as her last syllable dies out, your vision is filled with a bright light like the sun rising —
For a moment, you see nothing… but you hear them: a chorus of voices, non-human and ethereal, assigning you a goal in exchange for power.
The light around you dims the same time as the voices go silent; when you open your eyes, you’ll see that there’s only one third of the team with you anymore.
Your eyes blink open to the sight of polished wooden floors and sturdy mahogany furniture. You’ll find you’re sitting in what seems to be a waiting room of sorts; the couch underneath you is plush red velvet, soft enough to feel like you could fall asleep right then and there.
As soon as the thought crosses your mind, the door opens and a woman walks into the room, her heels hitting the floor with precise taps. With a large fur shawl draped across her shoulders and a deep crimson floor-length gown to match, she looks like she is about to leave to a party — and yet, as her sharp eyes assess the twenty-one Orbers sitting on the sofas, there’s an unmistakable sense of competence that surrounds her.
As she walks down the row of new recruits, she’ll train her eyes on each of you in turn, as though she might be able to drag secrets out through a stare alone. A smile or a casual touch will let you know she likes you; otherwise, it’s clear she will be keeping a close eye on you. She has a good eye and a good ear for faces and names, so it’s likely she’ll remember yours.
We have prepared rooms for you, along with all of the basic amenities and your new clothing. [Is she judging some of your outfits? Possibly.] We’ll have your assignments ready for you in the morning. But for now, please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be around for a little while for any questions you might have.
1.0A Once you arrive at the floor designated for new recruits, you’ll find that the rooms you get share the air of old-school wealth that permeates the entire headquarters. There are two to three beds per room, all with heavy wooden headboards and more pillows than seems to comfortably fit on them. Red curtains frame the windows, and details of solid gold create patterns in the ceiling. In the imposingly tall closets,there are sets of clothes for each new recruit: light-coloured suits and tan trench coats for the men; longer and shorter dresses, made with highest-quality fabric, with fur shawls and overcoats for the ladies.
When you start getting stir-crazy in your room, you are free to explore the headquarters: a large dining room awaits you on the second floor, silver plates and glasses of pure crystal laid out and waiting for the servants to carry your meal to you. On the fourth floor, there is a large library, shelves filled with books; and yet, if you walk further in, you will find headsets that connect you straight to a database where you can review anything you’d like… well. Almost anything.
2.0A After a refreshing night’s sleep in your oh-so-soft beds, you wake to a letter on your bedside. Once you open it, you’ll see a holo-message pop up: Olexa, with a different gown but lips just as red as before, giving you your very first assignment… but certainly not the last. Over the next few weeks, the letters will become a common occurrence, one arriving like clockwork once an assignment has been completed.
What are the assignments, then, you ask? They range from the ironic (tail and find information of the new arrivals to the other families) to the deceptively simple (take some papers to a city official without anyone noticing) to the slightly odd (open a hostess club in a given location — all that money needs to come from somewhere, you’re told, and maybe it’s not so odd after all).
Something notable is that the assignments rarely involve violence — however, that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. You may be told to make sure an arms deal scheduled for later on that day doesn’t happen, by any means necessary; or to make sure you get to buy that one magical tiara that’s being auctioned privately, before some others get to it.
It's the gravel under your feet that alerts you that you have arrived before anything else, and as you slowly open your eyes, you will see that you're in the courtyard of an old but well-kept mansion. A massive fountain makes water arc through the air behind you, water droplets like crystals as they catch the light from the planet’s three suns.
Before you’ve really had time to gather your bearings, the mansion’s doors are pushed open and out comes a small figure — and yet, you can’t help but instinctively stand straighter.
As the person comes closer, you’ll see she is an older woman, and yet there’s an aura of absolute no-nonsense that clings to her.
She walks through the lines with a razor-sharp glint to her eye as she looks every last one of you from head to toe and back again. Nothing shifts in her expression to tell what she might be thinking — if any of you are the worst she’s ever seen, it thankfully doesn’t show or come up so… congratulations? You’ve passed some sort of muster.
When she spins on her heels to return to the Featherstone headquarters, it is without one more word — but there’s the clear expectation for you to follow.
1.0B When you set foot into the mansion for the first time, it is to the sight of an impressive hall; bear-sized chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the black walls are polished enough where you can see your own reflection as you walk past.
Bianca motions one of the men in impeccable suits to show you to your rooms. Every new recruit has their own room, located in the east wing on the first and second floors: fully furnished with dark furniture and soft, plush bedding; heavy drapes cover the windows facing the northern courtyard; black and white art hang on dark grey walls. Two doors only noticeable from the inside by the glittering glass doorknob shaped like a diamond lead back to the hallway, while the other leads to a shared bathroom with your neighbour. This space is adorned in black marble and glass, a large jetted bathtub tucked into one corner, while a glass shower occupies the opposite side. The name of the colour game here is monochrome and they have run very, very far with it.
When you decide to see what the attached walk-in closet offers you, you’ll find that all Featherstone recruits follow the same dress code: a full suit, dress shirt, waistcoat and tie, of course coupled with a large overcoat and a hat… yes, for ladies, too.
2.0B Eventually, each one of you is called to Bianca’s office to receive your orders. Some are told to take on training duty — and if you don’t have the proficiency in that particular style of fighting or weaponry, well, you better learn it before it’s your time to step in and instruct the newer recruits. Those with engineering prowess may be sent to modify the latest batch of weapons that have come in, or test their efficiency.
Some are sent out to the city: as new recruits you won't be given charge of any arms deals, but you are sent out to ensure that the transactions go off without a hitch. Some find they have to play bodyguard to a number of important figures in the city… and some may notice that there are always at least two recruits on rotation near the most eye-catching club of the city, Cherry on Top.
Other recruits may be sent out to casinos to ensure that all wins are deserved, and the expectation is that those who try their hand at cheating will be violently removed from the premises. Occasionally, some recruits deemed suitable by Bianca will receive the most high-stakes task of them all: assassination. Whether it be a city council member in the pocket of one of the other families, an unfortunate officer of the law who crossed the wrong gang, or a high-profile job that someone else pays them to do… do it quietly, do it right, and you may just rise a little higher in Bianca Mitchell’s eyes.
It is an astonishing sight that awaits you as you open your eyes. You seem to be standing on nothing — there appears to only be open space that you find underneath your feet, a sight strange enough to shock even the veteran magicians.
From the darkness below, there’s the sudden sound of applause.
[There’s a snap of his fingers and everyone is in a room that suddenly looks as if it’s been plucked from the sky: stars are scattered everywhere and celestial bodies big and small float lazily around the room.]
Welcome to Ti’shaaz! I’m Finch and I’ll be your guide. For now, do acquaint yourself with your rooms and the grounds and then we’ll get to the fun parts!
And one more snap of his fingers and you’ll find yourself directly in the middle of your new room in the Ti’shaaz grounds, perfectly catered to your brand of magic.
1.0C Once you’re over the most recent shock of suddenly finding yourself in your room, you'll find it’s as though someone has created it specifically to match its new residents: those who can levitate will find their beds near the ceiling, while those who can teleport might not have a door to their room at all. The Ti’shaaz prefer to remain deeply connected to their magical roots and traditions and it shows in the architecture of their homestead.
Deep blue and purple heavy fabrics are set against the backdrop of dark wood furniture, and the halls of the mansion are constructed from heavy stone meeting above you in a pointed arch. Stone-carved vines climb the walls and form frames around windows to the outside; from here you see other buildings and a winding train track that curves and bends past this place. There are rooms to dine in, to meditate, and to safely train and hone one’s magical abilities. Where the corridor breaks into a right wing, you might wander into the grand hall: a long table is set in the centre, backed by rows of chairs on either side, and one at the head. This is where the head of the family makes her toughest decisions, doles out her cruelest punishments. Her presence is seen as an honour.
The Ti’shaaz dress very differently to the two families, a tradition born from their founder and added to by their current boss’s time as the court mage: the new members get impressive over-robes and cloaks, light but embroidered with jewels and thread that seems to change colour; underneath, they may wear a waistcoat and pants, or a dress made of similar fabric as the cloaks. They also seem to love colour; the more of it, the better.
2.0C What Finch referred to as “the fun parts” becomes apparent after a few days when a gleaming, purple butterfly flutters close to you in the middle of your breakfast. You can’t help but offer your hand to it, almost as though something compels you to — and when it lands gently on your finger, you’ll hear Finch’s voice in your head cheerfully informing you of the job that’s been selected for you. As soon as the message has been delivered, the butterfly breaks into little squares and disintegrates.
You may cycle through several jobs throughout the weeks: menial tasks like testing the magic items that come in before they’re put on sale, using your magic to turn ordinary technology into what is in Braccia lovingly called magi-tech.
However, once you’re sent into the city there’s more variety, as those Finch has decided are good for acting are directed to the gambling dens and clubs and told to win, but win like it’s natural... and some, particularly those with a variety to their magic, are sent on jobs labelled magic maintenance — perhaps a magic scroll allowing the user to change their appearance has malfunctioned and needs to be fixed, or a sculpture auctioned off just a month ago has started to develop antlers and refuses to let them be cut. Whatever the case, these are the clients of your family, and you have to make sure your clients stay happy.
Despite the density of the cityscape around you, there’s something refreshing and exciting about being here. Braccia’s streets and buildings are absolutely rife with potential for adventure and exploration, with citizens of all shapes, sizes and colours hustling around and past you. It is far from quiet. Voices of people talking, bartering, shouting are overlaid with music coming through shops every time the doors slide open and closed, and vehicle traffic in the streets, the tock tock tock of heels against pavement, and the shuffling of sneakers. It might almost feel too loud if you’re not used to it, but you’ll find yourself quickly adapting to the sound so it becomes white noise.
In your new threads that essentially serve as your new identity and a visual marker aligning you to the family you now belong with, you’ll be required to assimilate into the city’s fabric without a hitch. It’s absolutely in your best interest to, especially when you have very specific goals to accomplish.
4.0 There are shops, eateries and canteens stuffed and filled into every crevice along every street of the financial and shopping districts, offering up more visual stimulation than you might be used to. Even the most city-dwelling individual might find themselves experiencing a little bit of culture shock. If you’re hungry, you have choices beyond choices to pick from and competition here is tough. A subpar eatery won’t last a day, so you’re going to be spoiled for choice, depending on your mood. Those of you with a keen eye for shiny things and magpie tendencies will feel both excited and overwhelmed by the shops offering all manner of trinkets and collectibles, many showcased by beautiful window dressings.
A wrong turn might take you into a completely different part of the city, and that shop full of mechanical bits and bobs? You’ll probably never find it again, sorry to say. Still, there’s an air of continual progress and ambition, every individual you share a space with having dreams and goals of their own, some of them a little shadier than others.
Some restaurants and shops offer perks to certain families, and they’ll recognize you immediately from your clothing. Be receptive to their reactions and use these opportunities to get comfortable with your new identity.
5.0 The people of Braccia love their art and invention: painting, sculpture, performance, engineering; and there are grand establishments built to house these precious artifacts for generations to come. Paintings, enchanted to move like small worlds existing within their frames, have the power to evoke emotion, and movement — literally. Water ripples, painted figures dance, great battles are fought and won. Sculptures stretch and flex and pivot on their pedestals. And demonstrations of inventions that are art in themselves are offered to the public in safe zones.
Get an admissions ticket into one of these majestic buildings for an afternoon and you’ll find yourself entranced by the skill and ambition that the people here seem to possess. Artists in Braccia find themselves living in luxurious wealth and fame; engineers similarly so. At the front counter of these establishments, you’ll be able to sign up for a full tour, history lesson included. Go on your own, or go with a group — it may just be the educational experience you need, allowing you to gain a little more insight into the world you’ve found yourself in.
6.0 If you decide to venture into the city during the late night hours, either because this is your favourite time of the day, because you just can’t sleep, or because you’re simply too curious to let any hour of the day pass by you for something as insignificant as shutting your eyes, you might find yourself wandering in and out of the many clubs that Braccia has to offer.
For those of you who gave the simulation on the station a try, you’ll notice some similarities: bartenders quite literally on wheels and built with startlingly human-like mechanical limbs serve glowing blue and green drinks (among your standard issue G&Ts and Old Fashioned), stage performances vary between men, women, and ensembles from planets you’ve never even heard of, with the unfamiliar songs and sounds to match. It truly promises to be a unique night on the town, and people from every borough, every class, and every creed will congregate in these dimly lit clubs and bars to socialize and relax.
And some of them, each marked with a black emblem, seem to leave the divide between families to the doorway — if you try to keep to your own, a waitress may offer you a laughing comment to mingle a little… and should you try to start anything with a member of another family, you’ll find yourself immediately removed from the premises by hulking, seven-feet tall humanoids with tusks and long ears, telling you that here Cheri’s word is law, and to take your petty squabbles elsewhere.
In the evening, lying under the glimmery, golden veneer of a brighter, progressive Braccia is a darker network of gambling rings that thrive on competition and violence. These arenas are no secret to any citizen on Braccia, but they are deliberately kept separate like the flipside of a coin. Getting to know any of your fellow family members might gain you some insight on specific locations for the more prolific fighting rings often endearingly referred to as the ‘Coliseums’; these are generally where ambitious fighters hope to prove themselves, gain favour from the families, and on the rare occasion, even an invitation to join them.
This isn’t to say that smaller, “off-broadway” fighting rings don’t exist, but they have no regulations, are much harder to find, offer little more than measly cash prizes and a higher chance to lose one’s life in the process.
7.0 The Rules of Fight Club: The location you’ve been directed to might not look like much, but there’s no mistake — judging from slow trickle of people filtering into the building, checked at the door by two very large, very intimidating guards in suits (one human-looking, and the other not-so-much, with sharp claws and sharper teeth) — you’re in the right place. Ignoring the nondescript neon sign that advertises ‘The Best Burgers in Town’, you join the procession and make your way inside where you will have two options: watch the fights go down, or join them as a participant.
The ring itself had clearly been designed with spectacle and an audience in mind; after all what would be the point of a fight if no one was watching? The “stage” glows blue the moment a competitor sets foot, and the space resembles the nickname it’s been given: like a coliseum, the arena is circular in shape, allowing every seat in the house an equal vantage point for the action. Loud music plays overhead, indiscernible against the excited (and louder) chatter of arena patrons. You’ll recognize the different styles of dress in the audience — all of the families are represented here tonight.
If you’re here as a member of the audience, find your seat anywhere within the arena. Seating is offered on a first come, first serve basis but it becomes clear to you as people start to fill up the space where you should go, based on your status and familial affiliation. (If you have difficulty figuring that out, look down at your clothing.)
If you decide to sign up for a spot within the arena to fight, follow the directions of the violet-skinned host with the dark green feather boa and silver heels, as she will lead you to the preparation rooms. You’ll be provided with the opportunity to choose your own ‘fighter’s name’, sign a couple of waivers in the case of your untimely demise (rare, but it happens!), and be given a slot on the surprisingly busy docket. There are two fighting paths you can take here, depending on your skill: brawling without weapons, or a designated weapon’s (of your choice) fight. Once you’re settled in the room with your fellow opponents, there are opportunities to take a moment to get to know what you’re up against, or to simply sit in silence; whatever helps you prepare for a fight. If you’re in here with a fellow Orber (or two), you might wind up in a match with them too, depending on the luck of the draw — or more likely, the management’s desire to capitalize on you for maximum entertainment.
8.0 Bet a Wager: The arena fills up quickly, the closer it gets to show-time. If you’re in the audience tonight, you might notice that people are shuffling about, mingling with each other in the last minutes before the fights begin, coins exchanging hands and names being placed on lists. You’ll quickly learn that taking bets on the fighters is half if not more than the reason why anyone is even here tonight. If you’re the daring, opportunistic type, you (and maybe a fellow Orber) might want to get in on the action before the stage lights up — after all, if you make it out of here with a winning bet, you’ll be sure to make a name for your family, and find some greased palms for the future along the way.
For those of you signed up to fight, the time has come to show this world what you’ve got. The doors open and you are ushered out towards the wave of enthusiastic cheering (and some jeers), giving some of you more fanfare than you’ve ever experienced before. The moment your foot touches the ring, the entire stage glows like a blossom, blue and beautiful and surprisingly flattering against your skin. From across the ring, you see your opponent. Depending on how things went in the preparation room, they might offer you a curt nod of acknowledgement, a scowl, or simply not even react at all. Overhead, an announcer’s voice begins to go through the rules in a rushed manner. Most of those here have heard them over and over again, so they’re for the benefit of the newbies: for you.
Rules are simple here: accidents do happen but try not to kill each other. The first to go down for a count of ten admits defeat and ends the fight. Only one chance per contestant until we find our winner of the night, who will take home a very special, very rare prize! The coveted token!
And that’s it! Good luck!
Thankfully the rules are short. The announcer’s voice pauses, allowing participants within the ring to prepare their stances, and begins the countdown. At the word ‘Fight!’, the air changes in the room, the tension rises, and your opponent starts to move forward. It’s go time.
9.0 Winner Takes It All (Or Something): Even if competitive fighting isn’t regularly your cup of tea and you just so happened to be here tonight, you’ll find yourself swept up in the excitement of the audience around you. Depending on the bets you’d been making with others, you might come out of this a hell of a lot richer. The losing sides might send a couple of sneers in your general direction, but this is the business of the underground coliseums and everyone here is aware of that. You’ll probably have a safe walk home, but you might want to wait for any fellow Family members to accompany you. You know, just in case.
For those who participated in the ring and lost the fight, you’ll find the initial warm welcome for you has changed drastically. You’ll be told to gather whatever belongings you might have left in the preparation rooms, fully escorted by a hulking guard, and then not-so-gently swept out of the building before you could get your coat back on. Victors of tonight’s fight, however, will be treated like royalty. A personal invitation from the management will grant you access to a den in the back where drinks, drugs and food are provided in excess. Your money’s no good here tonight, winner, but there’s more: the violet-skinned woman from earlier will sidle up to you, take your hand, and press something cool into your palm. It’s a small obsidian disc no bigger than a coin, with a strange unrecognizable insignia engraved into it. She tells you you’ll want to keep a tight hold on it. Access like this doesn’t come easy, not for anyone in Braccia. What does this mean? Who knows? She leans in to kiss you and then slides out of view before you can get your thoughts in order.
Three weeks into the team’s stay in Braccia, it’s clear that something is in the air: a palpable excitement spreads through the city, people are seen hurrying back and forth from one tailor to another, one harried woman bursting into tears in front of a hairstylist’s upon being told that there are no appointment times available.
Everywhere you go, you’ll hear the whispers:
Perhaps you make the connection to the little side-note in your mission file… or perhaps you don’t, but at the start of that week, everyone — regardless of family — gets the notice: Cheri, owner of Cherry on Top, cordially invites you to her birthday gala.
Those in Lionetta are sent to the finest tailors, appointments somehow booked well in advance, and are told to get only the best; nothing else will do. Those in Featherstone will be told by Bianca herself that this is the only time they may break their dress code — men are sent tuxedos tailored specifically for them, and ladies get to choose from a wide variety of floor-length gowns… all in monochrome, of course. In Ti’shaaz, tailors are not needed when magic will do the job: their suits reflect colours that you might not even have a name for, and their gowns are made of bleeding colour from pure jewels.
When it’s finally the eve of the gala, one thing is clear to everyone: this is the event of the year.
10.0 You may have seen Cherry on Top multiple times throughout your stay in the city — the club is impossible to miss, a tall building twisting up in a convincing imitation of a tree twining upwards, the club itself situated on the top of it all, looking over the city and offering an impressive view from its floor-to-ceiling windows.
In the middle of the floor stands a small woman whose blue skin seems to glisten underneath the magical lights. Her wholly red eyes rest a moment on everyone who arrives, sparkling as she smiles and… winks? At you? Maybe, or maybe not.
When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice carries to every corner of the club without effort.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Brom Featherstone empty his glass, eyes fixed on the birthday girl; on his side, Bianca holds her empty glass and seems as stoic as ever. Further off, Finch laughs at something his boss has said, and to his left, Olexa chats with a waiter with an affable smile.
It seems it is as Cheri has said, and all hostilities are put away just for the night — so enjoy yourself and see what the party has to offer!
11.0 While it is easy to get lost in the way the floating lights form little constellations above you, and the way the bass of the music beats loudly enough that you can almost feel it, it won’t do to get stuck just standing there.
If you wander to the back of the room, it seems all the foods have been set there on long tables with golden plates just waiting for you to grab one and sample the selection… and what a selection there is. There are cocktail mixes of all colours, and depending on which one you try, you may find that your dress suddenly changes from black to turquoise, or from silk to velvet; or perhaps the next step you take ends a few inches above the ground, giving you the ability to hover for the next half an hour.
The food on offer doesn’t pale in comparison: it is likely you are most interested in what are clearly alien delicacies of varying colours, shapes and textures, but what the locals ooh and aah over are at the part of the table serving delicately-carved carambola slices, apples shaped like stars, and chains of berries that you can dip into a pool of caramel before eating them.
Once you’ve eaten your fill, it’s time to take a twirl on the dance floor: brass horns and a singer’s sultry voice may be enough to tempt you on their own, but if not, it seems the music, too, has something of an effect on you. One song may make you forget everything you’ve been worried about, the stress fading away and leaving only a sweet, light feeling behind; while another tune might make you feel bolder, giving you that splash of courage you need to walk up to whoever you’ve been eyeing and ask them for a dance.
12.0 Hosted only once a year in parallel with Cheri’s birthday celebrations, those of you in possession of an obsidian token will be permitted to take part in an exclusive auction alongside the richest, most well-respected individuals. These are collectors for whom money is no object, who have keen eyes for the rarest artifacts, and who would stop at nothing to obtain them. All items are kept under utmost privacy until the day of the bidding, and only those with tokens have a chance to attend.
The heavy wood doors to the auction are guarded by a pair of strong guard-creatures blocking the way on all fours. Trespassing without a token will cause them to bare their sharp teeth and claws, growling so low that the vibration is uncomfortable for your insides; almost painful. Showing your token will give no reaction, allowing you to pull the doors open and let yourself in. Engraved into the solid wood is the same emblem reflected on the coin — a full-cut diamond.
Electroswing music fills the space that resembles a ballroom with its open floor, crystal chandeliers, and private balconies above. At one end of the room a long red-clothed table has been set up, but everything is currently concealed until the start of the auction. Waitstaff circulate the room with hors d'oeuvres and alcohol served in tall, thin flute glasses. There is no dancing here and the atmosphere feels different. It’s more serious, almost sophisticated, even considering that most of the attendees here have likely committed all manners of crime over their lifetimes. Most of the faces in the room are unfamiliar, but there are a smattering of recognizable figures representing each of the Families, and then there’s you.
Once the auction begins, no one can enter or leave the room, and the guards from earlier can now be seen from the inside, two imposing shadows standing by. Items are displayed along the table and an auctioneer behind a podium rapidly begins to direct the bids. There's something for everyone: a vase full of shimmering liquid, introduced as the essence of death; a small, spherical object claiming to hold the power to destroy an entire planet; a first edition of Braccia’s Constitutional Law; a few blocks of metal said to withstand even an atomic bomb; and sparkling gemstones that, the auctioneer says with not one ounce of humour, very much resemble those that once decorated the High Queen’s crown.
If you’re fancying something in particular, you can raise your numbered paddle, but just be sure you can afford it somehow. One way to do that is being told to retrieve it: after finding out that you had acquired one of the coveted tokens, your immediate superior in your family may have assigned you to put that to good use, and provided the funds to match.
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• To submit a search request regarding exploring a specific place during any of the prompts, or speaking to any NPCs, please do so HERE. Please remember that multiple characters can combine their search requests and form a mini-team to be able to search areas / complete assignments (and thus hope to gain favour and information/items) that one character would not be able to.
• And finally, have a soundtrack for this log! ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
[Centuries of experience, and too proud to admit that he spend too many years walking with tiny steps through his own shadows. That, what seems effortlessly, was the fruit of years of practice. Of stumbling in to furniture and from walking in to the trees in the forest every time his mother moved them again.
The Darkling just smiles back, hard and double-edged, taking the drink. It tastes fruity sweet, the glitter coating his tongue and staining his lips.]
Is that all? Ask. What a strange concept. [Secrets were secrets for a reason, but Peter's personal secrets were not the ones he was after. Not here, with the temptation of the orb hanging over his head.]
Has anyone ever mentioned that trusting too soon might be a mistake? No matter. You're from Featherstone.
no subject
[ He's been in planets with no suns, so it's not as odd of a question as it might seem at first glance. The Guardian is also used to alien drinks being of all sorts of color and having the strangest effects on people. He eyes his own before taking a sip, it doesn't smell or taste like anything dangerous to humans, so he's going to enjoy it for the time being. ]
What can I say, sometimes I like to make things simple. One of my teammates, Drax, comes from a culture with no concept of metaphors or sarcasm. Being direct gets me better results and causes fewer misunderstandings, as well as fewer knives being thrown at my head.
[ The Darkling has a point, and Peter concedes it with a shrug. When he answers, there's a look in his eyes that speaks of a man being tired of pretending and there's a kind of dark honesty to his tone. ]
I already lost everything I could lose, and I died once. Whatever happens next, no matter how bad, can't compare to that. [ He takes a sip of his drink before leaning back on his seat and gives a little wave to the nearby dancing girls to keep up appearances. Then he turns to focus his attention on the Darkling. ] Besides, with the personal goal I was given...it's set up to make me fail, so why bother?
no subject
[He hadn't bothered to hide his Small Science since they came down on this planet, and his hands come together in front of him as the shadows around them deepen. As if the lightbulb before them as burned out, the lights turned down low, hiding them in a pocket of darkness. He holds it, the darkness quivering at his fingertips, before it releases and the light comes rushing back in.]
I summon Shadows.
[The bodies on the stage writhe, shimmering with sweat and glowing in under the lights. Ravka was many things, but it had been centuries since he's seen anything as bold as this. So much skin on display, hands slipping over naked skin and the wide smiles of the men and women swaying to the booming music.
Skin was rare in Ravka, the memory of a time when the ancestors of his soldiers had danced naked under the moon, howling to a pagan sankt distant and fading. The only bodies who showed themselves did not choose it, bodies bought and sold at the underground slave markets.]
Who did you lose? [No man, or king, looked like that at the loss of land or throne and lives came cheap. And straight after, his own mission burning in the back of his mind.] What did it tell you to do?
no subject
That's incredible and very useful in battle, I bet. Did you always have this power? [ He's less interested in the pretty bodies around them in different states of undress than he is in what the other man has to tell him. There are plenty of places around the galaxy for this kind of entertainment, Contraxias has the whole planet dedicated to this and more. But long before Peter met Gamora he was never particularly drawn to these sorts of establishments. Oh, he likes a pretty face, sure, and he loves dancing...but he likes a willing partner most of all.
The club is still somewhat entertaining, however, and the present company someone to talk with without having to put an act. The Darkling's question makes him pause, and Peter is still staring at the distance, at nothing, when he answers. ]
The only person who ever thought I was worth something. T[ he love of his life, he doesn't say, because it should be obvious already. It makes Peter feel too vulnerable to say it out loud. By the time he tilts his head to focus on the Darkling again, the sorrowful look in his eyes is gone. ]
Something absurd. I can't offer any suggestions to help the mission, give not advice to anyone. [ Peter makes a tsk sound of distaste. ] And I've been trying, but...Why even brought me here, then?
no subject
[Which was another way of saying; yes, Peter, always. He watches the stage more than Peter's face, and the smile that seems to always linger close under the surface of it. The tug at the corners of his mouth, the easy smiles and the soft teasing.]
It has served me well in the wars, yes. But my enemies might disagree with you on how incredible it is. Mostly, it's lethal.
[Pockets to hide in where the least of it, but Peter had not been there in Gyeongje. Had not seen the wall of monsters attacking nor the desperate fight to save them later on. The inky black Cut slashing through the ranks.]
Do you have a habit of trying to help people? The missions seem to be chosen to make it... difficult for us to complete them. Then again, the reward for our compliance is- [not magnificent, nor wonderful. But born out of the desperation of each of them and he lets the sentence hang.
Peter mentioned the loss and the love is evident in his voice. His regret to undo, perhaps.]
no subject
[ His girlfriend, the rest of this team, they are all lethal in a fight, but they use their skills to protect people. It wasn't like that in the past, nor was Peter what one would call a modern citizen.
Watching the stage is bound to catch one of the girl's attention, and it's not long before a redhead meets the darkling's eyes and smiles. She rocks her hips slowly, before she starts walking towards them, the clack clack clack oh her heels announcing her approach. The rest of her clothes amount to a sparkling red thong and a fuchsia feathered boa falling over her bare chest. ]
It's practically my work back home, yes. Make the Galaxy a better place and all that. Sometimes it works, other times...you get killed and stay dead for five years. [ Peter is going to down his drink in one go, don't mind him, Darkling. He gives a nod at that unfinished line because he gets what the other man is saying. ] The reward seems too good to be true, I don't trust it, but I want to know what is really going on with the station.
[ Peter doesn't get to say anything else because the redhead dancer is now very close, Kneeling in front of them and throwing her boa around the Darkling's shoulders instead. Oh, he can't wait to see how this goes. ]
Hello, gorgeous, do you need more company? You look a bit cold.
no subject
[He lets the comment about lethality slide. His shadows were deadly before he learned how to control them fully, and the sound of bodies hitting the shore of the lake would forever be a part of who he was. What had molded him in to the person who walked the world for centuries, had all started in the darkness of old huts, sitting on his mother's knee and listening to her tell him about the cruelty and endless wickedness of those not like them. The dangers of touch. And the lesson took hold that day he killed for the first time.
He wants to ask more questions about Peter's personal goal, but the very pretty redhead in front of him has her breasts pressed close to his face, her warm feathery boa wrapped around his neck and she uses it to pull him even closer to her heaving chest.]
What?
[She smiles, her lips pretty pink and parting in a shark's smile at the perplexed tone of the Darkling's voice. The practiced voice of someone used to repeating themselves and not a shred of impatience in it, as she exhales her reply across his ear]
I said, do you need company, sweetness? I have just the thing to warm you right up
[Really, he's just trying to not accidentally mouth across her breasts from this nonexistent distance between her tits and his lips, before he pulls back a little, a smile replacing the shocked look on his face.]
Maybe later. I'm busy at the moment. But maybe my companion would like to... have some company?
no subject
[ It never hurts to get to know people better. Peter is so new that he has yet to meet the rest of orbers properly and form an objective opinion about them. Right now they all want the same, to retrieve the orb, but who knows if said interest might change in the future.
The Darkling is free to ask about his goal to his heart content, but it looks like his new lady friend has taken a liking to him. Despite the questionable choice of wardrobe, the man is handsome enough that even Peter would admit if asked, so he's not surprised that he caught someone's eye. Next to him, Peter lets out a small chuckle after seeing the redhead invite the Darkling to get close and personal with her chest, but he has the decency to hide it behind a cough a moment later. ]
[ There's no wiping the grin off his face, though. He's curious to know just how much it would take for the Darkling to blush. More than a pretty pair of boobs to his face, apparently. When the attention is turned to him, Peter tries to keep his eyes to her face only.. ]
Oh, I'm afraid he's a bit shy, dear. But if you come a little closer, I'll tell you a secret.
[ Peter puts his empty glass down and, somehow, a moment later there is a bunch of cash casually held between his fingers. They get paid for what they do, but the money won't be useful once the mission is over, so he might as well use it to entertain each other and give it to someone who needs it more.
Two cuties for the price of one, hm? I could handle that. She smiles back at Peter but before moving, she wiggles her chest in front of the Darkling because she can. The boa stays wrapped around the his neck and shoulders as she crawls closer to Peter and tilts her head to listen. One of his hands raises to hide what he's murmuring in her ear, the other places the money in one of the thigh garters she is wearing but doesn't touch her further. The redhead laughs at some joke, that Peter murmurs in her ear and then moves away. ]
Aww all right but if you change your mind and you both want a fun night, you know where to find me.
[ It looks like she's about to stand up again but instead, she leans into the Darkling's space, wraps her arms around his neck, and presses a very enthusiastic kiss to his right cheekbone. The woman is not satisfied until she's sure she left a red, kiss-shaped mark there. It's then when she leans back, smiles at him all wolfish and, in a fluid movement, she stands up on her stilettos and walks away, hips swinging. ]
Redheads, uh...All passion. My girlfriend was...is a readhead too. [ Peter motion for another waiter to bring them some more drinks, all the way failing to hide his amusement. ] You've got yourself a feathery present.
no subject
The drink in front of him has a feather floating in it, the dusty taste of makeup and cigarettes clinging to it as he drains it, setting it down carefully on the dark stained wooden shelf. Eyes glued to Peter and the red-head.
The music isn't as bad as it could have been, the slow bass thrumming through his head like a second heartbeat. He blinks, vision filling up with the lady's ample bosom and her glossy smile just a second before her soft hands cradle the Darkling's face. Her painted nails scraping through his beard as her mouth smacks against his skin with a lewd, wet noise.
There's no Science singing under his skin at the contact, no surety raising in its wake and no trembling in his blood from her lips, her fingertips don't leave a lingering sense of warmth behind and he closes his eyes briefly, breathing through his nose to dispel the yearning wanting that threatens to open inside his chest.]
Not just redheads. [But his voice is floating, a hazy thing as the Darkling stares off in to the middle-distance, temporarily lost in what was and what could have been. Visions of Alina and the rising sun playing out behind his closed lids. He blinks again, face turning to Peter as he grabs the feather boa around his neck.] Was?
no subject
The man's stoic reaction during the whole affair tells Peter just as much as if he had been into it, and in fact, it makes him even more curious about the Darkling's personal life. Maybe he's not interested in anyone, maybe there's someone else already. ]
No, I guess not. [ They're both silent for a few moments, the Darkling contemplating what could have been, and Peter mourning what it once was. The music is loud around them, there's some hollering and laughter, flashes of cherry lips, and glittering bodies... and yet everything feels like a distance thing to Peter, for a moment, as if he's hearing it while underwater. The question brings him back, and he almost startles, looking at the other man. ]
She...it's complicated. Back home, she...Gamora, her name was Gamora. Is Gamora. Fuck, I don't know anymore. [ Peter pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, trying to reign on his emotions. It's not of much use and when he looks back at the Darkling he looks exhausted. ] She was killed. A monster took her away from me and used her death to make himself even more powerful. But later, she came back life. Only it wasn't really her. She didn't know me at all because she's apparently from a point in the timeline where we had yet to meet. And then she went missing again. I was trying to find her when I got dragged to the station. As I said...it's complicated.
no subject
Peter bought him a kiss. Apparently.
It wasn't a bad one, either. The short contact warm on his face, the glitter in his beard sparkling in the light.
He knows loss like that, of seeing someone you love die for power. From the fear that run through his whole world like a river. Deep and dark and treacherous, the undercurrent pulling innocents along until they have no choice but to surrender or be swallowed up by the water.
Surrender, or hide. Finding pockets of others like themselves, clinging to life as if just breathing for another day was the only goal someone like them could ever hope for.
For a brief blink, Luda's face floats through his mind, her hair in a sweaty halo around her head before she died in his arms. Her blood coating his hands as he made his plans. The first stepping stones to reach down and pull them all to safety.
The Darkling nods.]
I am terribly sorry for your loss. It must have been -[Alina, dancing with someone else, her eyes lighting up with happiness as her small hands clutched at broad shoulders.
A fresh wound, but the Darkling grabs the feather boa and places it in Peter's hands.] - heartbreaking. When she came back.
[It's not a large leap to think that Peter's regret is to get this redheaded woman back, Gamora. Her name like a prayer on Peter's lips.]
no subject
Peter's answer to the Darkling is a curt nod, and he looks down because he doesn't think he can meet the man's eyes just yet. Gamora also had dark one, the kind that managed to stare into his very soul, and god, does he miss getting lost in her eyes. He tries to keep it together, at least here, in front of people. He has to, they have a mission to finish if they all want to survive. Peter doesn't trust the promises that brought him to the station, but he has to give it a try and help retrieve the orbs. If not for his own sake, then for the others'. ]
Thanks. It was difficult, it still is. [ The words sound strained even to his own ears. He's saved from elaborating further when one waitress comes, bringing the drinks he asked for. He can't force himself to smile for her this time, just takes the drinks with a silent tilt of his head and then down half of the glass in one go. It burns down his throat and makes his eyes sting, giving Peter an excuse for the wetness pooling at the corner of his eyes. ]
Have you ever been in love?
no subject
[Speaking in broad and general terms. There's nothing personal in that information, just another misdirection. The Darkling knows he must have been, once. Too many years ago, before the promise of eternity started to weigh too heavily on his shoulders.
Before he agreed to bear it, the responsibility of all of his people and the unjust treatment they were subjected to. Maybe it had been during his first life, the name he chose for himself back then is lost to the sands of time, but he must have been as foolish and as emotional as everyone else.
His true brilliance didn't surface until he rid himself of that sentimentality. Until he understood just how many miles he would have to travel, and how many murdered Grisha he would have to bury, before his deed was done.
Sipping the drink, he turns away politely, letting Peter blink away the tears threatening to spill down his face as the Darkling watches the dancers, the shimmering lights across their skin.]
What else do you do, when you're not out saving the galaxy. Do you gamble? Ride horses- do you have horses in your world?
no subject
[ It's said without reproach, simply kind of matter-of-factly. If the other man wants to drop the subject, Peter will, it might be a painful one. He's grateful for the other man's not mentioning how badly he can be at holding his tears in check. After taking a few deep breaths, Peter calms enough to reign in his emotions like an adult. ]
We get in all sorts of trouble. And yes, we have horses on earth and there are alien creatures across the galaxy that looks similar. Maybe with a few more legs or tails. But one of the things I enjoy doing the most is flying. [ That does bring a genuine smile to his face, and he tilts his head towards the Darkling. ] Not to brag, but I learned how to pilot a spaceship when I was 10 years old, I'm pretty good at it. My ship back home it's nothing like the station. More streamlined, really fast...imagine a giant, armored bird you can command.
[ Now, that's a good description of the Benatar, and it fit the Milano even more. Boy, does Peter miss his first ship, it was a think of beauty. ]
Do you like to gamble? Because we could play some games then.