agentlelog | event: a gentle explosion

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event: a gentle explosion

I see a world just out of reach
With shoulders of giants at my feet
There’s not a challenge I’m afraid to meet

► The OOC plotting post for this event can be found here.

► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND
You wake, warm and comfortable, and realize that you’re no longer where you were when you went to sleep. The dream was real. As you clamber out of bed and open your door, an impassive footman greets you and leads you to breakfast in a large hall filled with many, many people. They sit around a hodgepodge of tables in a mishmash of furniture—nothing matches anything else, and no two chairs are the same.

The woman from your dream catches your eyes. She stares at you with open shock. “Well,” she says, as a number of males turn to her with withering looks. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” She smiles at you. “Welcome to Draega, Stranger. Please, join us.”

Join them at the table and have your breakfast, Stranger. There isn’t much to offer: porridge, water, a bit of milk, some wrinkled fruits, and bread. Coffee, thankfully, is not in short supply. Meet your fellow Strangers, both the ones choosing to live at the Queen’s Residence and those who arrived in the night with you.

As breakfast draws to a close, the Queen’s Steward, Prince Loren Sorey, explains that you may choose to find your own home or stay in the residence for as long as you please. Those who stay will receive a modest stipend but are required to participate in Allairavar’s morning trainings every day. At dawn. Before breakfast. Those who go will need to find their own homes among the ruined buildings of the city and make their own money.

The court begins filtering out of the Great Hall, dispersing to attend their many duties. Linger, Stranger, and overhear…

“What did you mean?” The man leaning over the Queen is Prince Allairavar. His membranous wings flare around him, and his expression is menacing. “This wasn’t supposed to happen?”

Queen Fayura doesn’t look at all alarmed by the massive man caging her against a wall. “It was a one-time spell,” she says. “The web was—” Her eyes go wide. “I need to go look at the web.” She ducks under Allairavar’s arm, which could put a tree trunk to shame, really, grabs Prince Verim, and drags him from the hall.

Allairavar bares his teeth at the wall and snarls. The sound rumbles through the room, and dark temper washes briefly through the residence before all the tangled webs tucked in corners absorb it, leaving the building peaceful and clean of psychic feeling once more.

A TALE OF TWO IDEALS
At exactly 5:46pm, an explosion rocks the city of Draega. Black clouds belch fire to the northwest of the city. Concurrently, in Old Town, a mob of landens armed with Breakers and Muters descends on The Last Meal. They surround an older, Blood woman.

i. Black Out
The power plant maintained by the Tinkers and the Elektrics has exploded. Across Draega, e-line appliances shut down and the city plunges into darkness—the sun set some 45 minutes ago.

Prince Loren reaches out to approximately half the Strangers, asking them to go to the power plant. He shares a mental map with them so they know how to reach the building, as well as the Craft used for air-walking. The tutorial is quick and hardly complete, but now you’ll be able to run above the city to reach your destination.

The power plant burns. Black smoke pours into the air. Master Elektric Doriah organizes the Tinkers and Elektrics who were able to escape on their own. A quick glance reveals how absolutely exhausted she is. When Strangers approach, she sneers but isn’t about to turn away good help.

“There are still people inside. The Blood who did this trapped us in shields.” She hesitates only a moment before collecting Breakers from guildmembers carrying them. “Take these. Your Jewel may not be able to break through the shields.”

Inside, well-ordered building is a mess of fire and melting steel. Airwalking protects your feet, and shields can keep out the heat, but you’ll need something more to protect your lungs. Put out fires, stop systems from overloading, save the machines from complete destruction, and rescue missing workers who are suffocating and cooking inside shields. The guildmembers trapped in the power plant will assist the Strangers who free them, helping mitigate the damage done to the plant and keep it from exploding the rest of the way.

ii. Death of a Councilwoman
Councilwoman Vera enjoys dinners at The Last Meal, and this is well known by everyone in the city. Today, public knowledge of her schedule doesn’t work so well in her favor.

As she approaches the restaurant with her family, a group of landens descends on them. Muters prevent the Blood from taking any action that isn’t purely physical, and this is enough to throw most of them off their stride; they’re used to relying on Craft to fight. The landens separate Vera from her family in a short-lived brawl. She shouts and screams—“Let me go! Don’t you know who I am? The Queen will have you executed for this! Your families will be thrown out of the city! You’re making a mis—”

A shot rings through the air.

The landens peel away from one of their own, a young man gripping a Breaker in both hands. He trembles as he stands over Councilwoman Vera, whose expression is frozen forever in shocked disbelief. Her body crumples to the ground, blood from a gunshot wound on her chest staining the white fabric of her blouse.

In the silence that follows the shot, Allairavar shoves free of the crowd. “Go home!” he snarled, Craft powering his voice.

No one moves.

Except the young landen man. He takes off at a run, and the crowd is still too horrified to do much to stop him. Allairavar wastes no time. He plunges after the young man. At the same time, he reaches out to the minds of the Strangers closest to Old Town. *The Ebon Council is, collectively, a sack of reeking shit, and Lady Vera was a bitch,* Allairavar tells the Strangers. *But if we don’t get between the Blood and the landens, we’ll have another war. We can’t afford another war. Keep them from killing each other while I deal with this idiot.*

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you’re spinning the dial on your own device, you’ll hear…

the news
…angered local landen families by her hard-line position that Blood homes should receive priority as the city continues to recover from the fires set by the Hunter Guild last month. [The man speaks at a brisk pace, hurried and harried as though he has too much to say and not enough time to say it.]

Councilwoman Vera is known for her vocal disdain for the landen Guilds, isn’t that right, Garret? [Another man, nasally in tone. He doesn’t sound rushed so much as put upon.]

[Garret:] Correct, Wilt. She—excuse the interruption, but we are just now hearing— [The feed abruptly cuts off. Static pours from the Far-caster regardless of what local channel it is tuned to.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mm. You should.

[Because he already knows how to catch a squirrel and toss its entire carcass into a pot? He's Good. Their future looks bleaker with every passing moment, but the one bright spot here is that Lalli... actually knows where they're going! Kind of! He's zipped around the Queen's Residence a few times today; his mental map of the place is almost there, which is why he pulls his arm free of Emil's grasp and tugs him in the opposite direction.]

The stores are this way. [Left, not right? Duh. As to how he knows this... wait for it, wait for it—] I saw them when I was doing that weird walking thing.

[He says this so nonchalantly... like he didn't hate every second he spent in the air...]

[Oh, okay, thanks for not calling him stupid for not memorizing the entire city layout on the first day, he supposes? Emil will consent to being led around, but first point:]

Why do I have to learn and you don't?

[And also:]

I'll learn to cook if I never have to try magic again.

[Didn't Emil pay attention to that mental map Prince Loren sent their way? Gosh! Anyway, the obvious answer to that question... is that Lalli is, like, 99% sure that his friend has no idea how to hunt for food that isn't already sitting in a market stall, but who cares about THAT when Emil is over there saying the dumbest shit? Not Lalli, that's for sure. It's why he shoots Emil a Look.

BUT while he's tired and grumpy and in need of something tasty to snack on—because again: it's been a Day!—he still slows his pace the slightest bit. To better study Emil's face, you see.]

..."Try?" ["Do or do not - there is no try." -Lalli, 2k19] Did you use it? In the... plant.

[To air-walk, or break shields, or... something! Surely it wasn't THAT bad!]

[He's not good at maps in general, let alone mental ones! Give him a break! As far as Emil is concerned they're just having a nice walk here, and Lalli is definitely not judging him mercilessly. He's made zero missteps in this conversation, bringing up magic.]

I punched a shield until it popped, [he says, but he was holding the magic rock, so that must have contributed somehow? He's still not sure how it works, but at least it did.]

Is that anything? I mean, I helped, so... [That's enough! The end.]

[He punched a shield. Punched it. Until it popped. Lalli's brow furrows as that sinks in, because that is quite possibly the dumbest thing Lalli has heard today? He even opens his mouth to say as much, but—]

[But. If Emil is actually telling him about it, then it must have... worked? Obviously because magic was somehow involved, but after a moment's consideration, Lalli snaps his mouth shut and faces forward once more. This boy? This boy! Punching things in a burning building...

Again: This boy!!!!]

You did. [In the strangest possible way, but Lalli hums quietly as he imagines this ridiculous scene in action. Pfft.] ...Stupid.

[In his defense... it was stupid? But he follows up with the briefest shoulder bump of all time, because this isn't Lalli trying to be mean; this is just Lalli lowkey amazed that Emil has survived twenty whole years.]

[Oh, he's waiting for the Judgment, rest assured... He's used to it? He would like to be told he did a great job, but if Lalli doesn't start lecturing him about not being weak again, that's pretty much a huge success. By now, he understands the general concept of Lalli Praise...

So he just waits, raising his eyebrows expectantly just in time for Lalli to look away from him again. Still— two nice words and a shoulder bump are good enough for him! Even Emil knows that punching a shield til it popped was not his best possible strategy.]

The person I freed didn't think it was stupid. [But he's still smiling a little, pleased with himself. Magic is still mysterious and mildly scary, but maybe it isn't... super bad. 2% increase in Emil's Magic Opinion.]

The next time something happens, [because something Will Happen, he can feel it] we should probably stick together.

[Of course the barely conscious person was okay with being freed by the dumbest method, but—they're (presumably) fine, Emil is fine, everything is fine. For the time being, that is. Lalli doesn't need to understand anything about this world's everything in order to recognize that shit is, um, preeeetty bad, so...]

Mmh. I'll find you, and you can punch things. [Pssh. ...Or, well? Actually—] ...People.

[Like that idiot from breakfast, but! It's hard to focus on that now that they're actually leaving the Queen's Residence. The Bazaar is finally in SIGHT! Tasty food, here they come... unless they pass a clothing store along the way. Hmm. Maybe if Lalli starts power-walking again...]

[Who does he need to punch... He has yet to punch any people, but the opportunity will doubtless present itself before long. Some people here are jerks...]

Hmm, maybe. Why, who do you want me to punch?

[Haha, it's a joke!! Now then, will Emil feed this boy first, or drag him into a clothing store... Of course it's the clothing store option; the first one they pass that looks even a little stylish catches his eye and he grabs Lalli's sleeve again to keep him back here and give him an enthusiastic look about Clothes. No zooming away from him!!

Look at his eyes, Lalli. He's pleading. Let's shop.]

[This is serious, Emil!! So serious... except that Lalli, you know, has completely forgotten his new archenemy's name, because of course it went right in one ear and out the other. Does he even remember the person's face that well? Huh.

So it's honestly a good thing that Emil spots the shop, even though Lalli is clearly none too pleased about stopping here first thing. Sure, his shirt is covered in both coffee and streaks of soot, but he still studies that window display—what weird clothes??—before giving Emil a sidelong glance. This isn't food...]

We have clothes.

[One outfit is ENOUGH! Just drag him.]

[Lalli, buddy. Those clothes are disgusting. Emil treasures Lalli enough to sleep in a garbage can, but not enough to keep looking at that shirt and let him crawl around under his bed with it.

Ergo: shop time now.]

Are you going to wear the same thing every day? We don't have to do that anymore, sooo...

[So, clothes!! He tugs more insistently, because they are going into this store. Just stand in a corner and Emil will do all the work, whiner.]

[Um, yeah? That's totally his plan??]

Pfh.

[But Lalli treasures Emil just enough to not make a huge production out of being tugged into this store. Is he pleased about it? Not particularly, but when someone comes over to offer them a polite greeting, Lalli breaks free of Emil's grip in order to, like, head back to the door and lean against the wall right beside it. He doesn't need to look at anything! And even if he wanted to, he wouldn't even know where to start, so...

...So. He is here for the foreseeable future, arms crossed and eyes closed... but he'll occasionally crack one of them open to see what Emil is up to and/or check out the stuff closest to him. Occasionally. Where are fur cloaks with nifty hoods??? Those are necessities!]

[And there goes Lalli... well, that's about what Emil expected, so he'll accept it. He has requests for this shopkeeper who is definitely not prepared for him, and he is ready to shop. Every so often he waves a shirt or something at Lalli, which all the consultation about what color or something he prefers that he's going to get; Emil will do the rest of the important decision-making here.

At least he's in a better mood now? Truly, retail therapy is real.

Once he's done gathering some practical clothes, it's time for blowing the rest of his money on indulgent fashion choices, which means nothing to his grumpy pal until he actually comes over to Lalli's sulking spot with two sweaters to hold up and wiggle at him.]

Lalli, [behold!!] pick one.

[Lalli straightens up a bit when he hears Emil approach, actually opening both eyes—but, uh. Oh. It isn't time to leave, even though it feels like he's been standing here for ages; instead, it's time to... check out two sweaters that Emil took the time to pick out just for him. Two sweaters he doesn't necessarily need. Emil...

...Hmm. He can—and is strongly tempted to!—shoo them both away out of sheer stubborness, but is he weak to long sweaters? Yes. It's why, after blinking back at both of them, he finally reaches out to touch the plain one. Just to see if it's soft, you see, which it most certainly is.]

Ah.

[He pokes the blue one, too, but while the color is interesting, the poke really just for show. The collar on the plain sweater...!]

...This one. [You know which one he's pointing to. Emil shouldn't be the least bit surprised.] But I don't need it.

[Did Lalli bring money with him, or did Lalli absentmindedly leave it behind? Mysterious.]

[Emil knows Lalli only likes looking at shops when they can eat, okay, so this is his olive branch: sweaters. Lalli picking a sweater: great! Lalli being a brat saying he doesn't neeeeeed a sweater: shut up, Lalli.

Emil drapes the chosen sweater over his arm and waves his freed hand dismissively; this sweater is happening, because he is generous and mad with stipend power. Accept it!]

You can have things just because you want them, you know. And besides, it's rude to turn down a gift. Just say "thank you"!

[He's buying the sweater!! Endure!!!]

[What if he doesn't want anything here aside from, like, some food with actual flavor? What if he doesn't want to get too comfortable? Knowing why he's in this world is one thing; liking anything about it is something else entirely, so being a grimy hermit sounds a-okay to him. This isn't Iceland...

Still... a gift, huh. A friend thing. He honestly doesn't see how he was being rude, because he's a gremlin and that's not about to change, but—mmph. Give him some time to screw up his face as he considers everything about this. Does he have to? Does he really, really have to??]

Fine. [He'll TAKE IT. And wear it all the time, probably, but there's still a significant pause before he mumbles an oh-so quiet:] ...Thanks.

[The price has been paid for that soft sweater! So take that and this extremely sharp look, Emil.]

Don't be weird.

[Comfortable and having clean laundry aren't the same thing, in Emil's defense. The sweater is, on some level, to make Lalli a little happier, but Emil isn't trying to settle so much as not panic nonstop. Nuanced.

Thanks for accepting his friend thing, anyway. He looks pleased with himself, and pats Lalli on the shoulder.]

No one's being weird. You're welcome!

[For the sweater, and for Emil's herculean self control, because he is earnestly delighted about this sweater gift acceptance thing. One day, Lalli will come with him into a clothing store and not loiter by the door the whole time...]

Come with me to buy it and then we'll go get something to eat. You can pick!

[See, this is much better than the last time he thanked Emil! He can deal with this smile... especially when it's followed by the mention of food, because dear gods, standing around for what felt like hours reminded him just how hungry he actually is.

So yes, fine, he follows Emil over to the counter, prepared to quietly lean against it and think very seriously about what he wants to EAT... until he catches sight of the many things piled atop said counter. Um? Emil? Catch this side-eye.]

...All of this is yours?

[No wonder the shopkeeper is smiling as they hurriedly fold thing after thing.]

[Do not judge him for this, he hasn't been able to wear more than two outfits in like six months. Don't you dare judge him.]

You're looking at me like it's a crime to want clean clothes. I put a shirt in there for you, but I figured you were more interested in the sweater.

[And, well. It's only the one shirt. A real prince and the pauper thing they have going here, if by pauper we just mean lazy gremlin. Emil wants to look nice in these weird, old fashioned clothes! Let him look nice!]

[A sweater and a shirt! Damn! Lalli's living the high life now, thanks to Emil, but this mountain of clothing still seems, uh, rather excessive. This is day one of who knows how many... like, please chill...

But hey, Emil's money is Emil's money? Lalli watches the shopkeeper fold one of the last shirts, wondering whether or not it's his—and whether or not he should thank Emil again—before he winds up yawning. ...Whatever. Once is surely enough.]

Mmh. It's better than the weird things you kept showing me.

[Breaking news: Lalli doesn't understand fashion. Wearing a different lewk each day is less concerning than more practical things, like... well.]

But now you have to carry all of this around.

[You, not we.]

[There are multiple days and so, multiple outfits. Emil will not be shamed out of his shopping extravaganza. He's still thrilled, even as he forks over, like, most of his stipend here on the first day... Whatever! Fashion is worth it!

But enh--is fashion worth carrying it around... sigh! Fine.]

You should keep your sweater.

[That's... a compromise, kind of...? Give him this one thing. At last, he drags his clothing haul off the counter, all bagged and ready to go. Still worth it. Now, they can eat, but Emil still has a fashion inquiry to make-]

What did I show you that was weird? There wasn't anything weird.

[Of course Lalli will carry his one (1) bag around, because the truth... is that he very much likes his new sweater? And one bag is also much better than however many Emil is stuck lugging around, so he's free to brush right ahead of ~~this pack mule~~ his friend as they exit the shop. It's time... to scout out the best bakery in town...

Oh, but first—]

Everything was weird. [He pauses his search long enough to cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, because, uh? Duh???] You said the shirts were different, but they all looked the same.

[Again: Lalli Doesn't Get Fashion. Different collars? Different fits? What? Just follow him past these stalls of shriveled fruit... gross.]

[Lalli... one day he'll understand that fits and cuts and so on matter, and he doesn't have to exclusively wear fabric tubes with ugly belts. Emil will educate him on this manner, slowly, one shirt at a time.]

They are different— just take my word for it. The one I got you is nice.

[And plain? He figured that would be the best idea. Now they march down this street, two Strangers with their myriad bags and judgmental looks thrown at food stalls... It is no wonder that no one is urging them to come over and patronize their stalls.

Emil notices none of this, but he does notice a sign that looks like it has a pastry painted on it under whatever stupid name it has, so that's helpful. He nudges Lalli and points.]

[Lalli also fails to notice how, um, quiet this marketplace is, but he does notice the lack of... options? This city obviously isn't anything like Reykjavik; he's yet to see a single hot dog cart, even though he's looking all over the darn place for something a) familiar-ish and b) delicious.

Thankfully, though, his friend is on the case. As soon as Lalli sees what, exactly, Emil is pointing to, he zips right over to it, eagerly pressing his hands against the glass as he looks down at the... incredibly limited... selection...

...Huh. Someone inside is glaring at him, probably angry that he's smudging up their display, but does Lalli notice? Nope. He's too busy frowning down at the loaves of plain-looking bread. Where are they hiding the good stuff? Where are the cinnamon rolls??]

...Hrmh.

[He wants to crawl back underneath Emil's bed, thanks. In fact, he's giving Emil a Look. All of that suffering in the clothing shop, and for what...]

I knew it would be bad.

[The bakery sign? Very exciting. The total lack of adorable cakes in the window? Not so much. Emil trudges up behind Lalli with his many bags to peer through at the bread, as well. Dang...]

What? How is this my fault? Let's just—

[Go in and ask for the good stuff!! That's his plan, but he looks past the bread to see the person glaring at them, and that is the immediate end of said plan. What did they do? Even taking a half-step back from the window doesn't seem to mitigate this person's ire. Did they break a rule??]

Uhhh, hmm. Lalli?

[Surely Lalli will have some socially adept ideas.]

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i love the blue one... sad

tragique.....me too

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