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

[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.]

[It's his fault because—well, just because! Anyway, Lalli has yet to notice the person on the other side of the window; it isn't until Emil awkwardly steps away that Lalli looks back toward the window and locks eyes with this... incredibly rude individual. Um? There's only one person here that allowed to stare at others, and that person is Lalli.]

I don't know him. [Sure, his hands are off the window, but he's not backing away! Not yet!] Why is he looking at me?

[It's a glare-off, apparently. Lalli even leans a bit closer to the window.]

[Lalli takes his grimy hands off the window, but they're still being glowered at... What could it mean. Emil is clueless, as usual.]

I don't know, maybe he heard you say it was bad. What are you doing?

[He puts one of his bags down to tug the back of Lalli's nasty soot shirt; stop that, that's making it worse.]

Let's just find a different place.

He won't stop staring! [HUFF.] And everything does look bad.

[So his earlier statement is perfectly justified, and Lalli just wants this person to stop looking at him!! Except no, not really. All he seriously wants is... something tasty to eat, which is why only glares back at this stranger for another second before he finally turns away. Hmph! It's not like he wanted any of that gross bread, anyway...

So fine. FINE! He sets off at a rather brisk pace, not even waiting for Emil to, like, pick up his bags. He has signs to scan! Stalls to investigate! Catch up with him a good distance up this street, scanning the menu that's posted outside of what looks like a fancy-ish restaurant. There's a dessert section... he's studying it very intensely, but when Emil approaches he'll give him a quick look before pointing to one thing in particular:]

...Trifle?

[What Is That.]

[Lalli!! Goddamn it. Emil spares only a second to give the angry baker what he hopes is an apologetic look for whatever they did that offended him, grabbing his bag back up to find his wayward grumpy Finn. Come back here, you brat...

Is he a little out of breath when he catches up? Maybe, yes. He had to hurry with bags and it was the worst thing ever, please take pity on him. Glancing at the menu, he makes a face.]

I don't think we can afford that. [The shame... Well, maybe Lalli can afford it, but Emil can't until they give him more stipend cash. Hmm.] It has berries in it? And pudding.

[Berries? Lalli thinks of blueberries and immediately pulls a face, because no matter how much pudding there actually is, more fruit... is not his idea of a tasty snack. And for it to cost so much money??? Ugh. It's official: Draega is the absolute worst.

But while Emil is over there trying to catch his breath, Lalli takes off yet again—at an even faster pace. He's doing his classic scouting thing, you see! Running ahead and checking out all available options while everyone else hangs back, because that's the most efficient way to handle things. Still, even when he spots a promising prospect and jogs back to tell Emil all about it—ah, he's so much farther behind than Lalli thought? This slowpoke.]

This way, [he says, gesturing for Emil to, like, follow him back down the street.] Faster!

[Which Emil will surely bitch about, blah blah blah, but the POINT! Is that there's an ice cream parlor down here, and the sundae on the sign that Lalli points to looks hyuge.]

What about that?

[There's a price listed beside it? Tell him it's too expensive, even though he's totally heading for the door anyway.]

[Let him breathe! Jesus!! Emil does his best, bags and all, but Lalli is too fast- especially for someone who was so eager to stay home and sleep. Where does this energy come from? He doesn't understand.]

Lalli— [GOD.... he'll get there when he gets there, thank you, sidling up just in time to look at this Big Sundae.]

I don't know, it's still a lot of money... [Lalli has already left him standing here, huh. Emil looks through the parlor window at him, sighing... fine! He and his bags will be there in a moment.]

Are you sure you want that?

[Look, Lalli's used to running around for hours on end? Dangle some food—some sweets—in front of him and watch him FLY. Anyway, Lalli is indeed inside, hand tucked under his chin as he tries to make sense of everything listed on the sign hung above the counter. One young employee is watching him warily, but while he doesn't look thrilled about having this person in his shop, well... it's not like there's anything else going on! Who wants to pay for ice cream when they can barely afford bread...

So Lalli is free to weigh his many options! It's requiring some serious brain power, which is why Emil's question is met with a simple:]

Mmh.

[Yes, he's sure! Partly because he's tired of trekking around the city, partly because this shit looks... amazingly sweet.]

...Butterscotch? [What a wild word. He glances back Emil's way to see if he knows what, exactly, that is, all while the person behind the counter shrugs and begins throwing stuff into a glass. Is that really what he wanted? Well, maybe not, but that's what's eventually handed to him—after he forks over almost all of the money he has. Follow him to this table, Emil. Stare at this sundae with him, until he takes one of the two spoons stuck in the top and rolls the cherry... over toward the opposite side. It's a gift.]

[Emil shrugs, freed from his explanation of what butterscotch is because it's apparently what Lalli is getting anyway. He's just spent basically all his money himself, but watching Lalli spend just as much on one dessert is... painful... acutely so.

Still! He is a Good Friend who will not judge, just sigh and follow Lalli to the table. He leans his elbow on it, watching Lalli watch the sundae. This sure is something.

Like, he'll take the cherry, for sure, but boy.]

You'd better eat all of that, since I'm not buying you more food.

[He shoots Emil a flat look over the top of his amazing treat, because of course he's going to eat all of this? After everything that's happened since waking up in this place, spending what little money he has on something sweet seems... well-deserved. Better this than clothes, in his humble opinion, but he keeps that to himself as he tries his very first bite of this giant butterscotch sundae.

Hmm. It's... sweet? It definitely has that going for it? And it's much, much better than the porridge he'd picked at earlier today, but—]

...Weird.

[That's all he murmurs before he promptly scoops most of the butterscotch over to Emil's side, as well. He's so generous.]

You can have that, too. [The plain vanilla ice cream underneath, though? Oh, he's here for it, so watch him dig right the fuck in.] Because you can't buy anything else.

[Spoken like he still has money in his pocket? Like he isn't as poor as Emil is at this very moment? Anyway, enjoy his very accurate observation.]

[It takes Emil a moment to realize that he's expected to eat this, like, beyond just the cherry. Lalli giving him rejected butterscotch syrup isn't... really appetizing, but hmm. Okay?

He will take this spoon, and he will eat this butterscotch. Slowly, because there's a ton of it.]

Speak for yourself. [Here he is, eating a spoonful of pure butterscotch, watching this boy go to town on vanilla ice cream. Amazing.] At least you're enjoying yourself now.

[They're poor as shit now! Already! But he can't deny that Lalli enjoying the simple delights of plain ice cream is a good point in this otherwise terrible day, like the shopping. They're not totally miserable! It will do!]

[Plain vanilla ice cream... is amazing. It's better than cookies? It's almost as good as cinnamon rolls, and Lalli is now determined to try every non-berry flavor this place has to offer, but—hey, don't call him out like that! He doesn't enjoy anything about this place, Emil. I mean, look at his very serious face... as he eats yet another spoonful of ice cream...]

I'm not. [He Is.] I don't like it here.

[Here as in Draega, not this ice cream parlor. He'll move in here if given the chance. But... hmm. As selfish as Lalli is, the person sitting across from IS a) his one and only friend and b) one of, like, two people whose opinion he kind-of-sort-of cares about; it's why he hesitates for a moment, sticking his spoon back in a half-eaten scoop before looking back up at Emil.]

...Do you?

[Call the presses, Lalli enjoys ice cream. It's okay, Lalli, man should be allowed to enjoy desserts in peace. This is what Emil believes and he's usually right when it comes to sweets and, like, nothing else.

Anyway, they're just having an okay time out here eating this ice cream together, which is the only enjoyment Emil is talking about, but Lalli has to go make it all serious.]

Hmm, no, not really. I could have if it weren't for all of the, you know-- [he waves his free hand; all of the explosions and murder and terrible breakfast? This city was almost a welcome change from their inevitably sheep-filled summer, but the negatives are a little bit much! Explosions and murder?! Emil shrugs.] And I don't think too many people are happy about us being here.

[Is he subtle about throwing a suspicious glance at the shopkeeper, who has fleeced these ignorant morons and no longer has any interest in them? Not at all. Hmph.]

I'd say the best thing about this place right now is... the bed. And you being here too, obviously.

[Sorry, Emil, but even ice cream isn't magical enough to make Lalli any less of a Debbie Downer. He'd spent that hour underneath the bed wondering if agreeing to come here was truly the right thing to do, and now that he's, you know, feeling... better... than he's felt since waking up in the Queen's Residence for the very first time—hmm. It's confusing? Just like having Emil here is confusing. Emil should be back in Iceland, or Sweden, where he wouldn't have to worry about magic at all; Lalli is 100% convinced of this, and yet there's still something nice about looking across this table and seeing his one friend sitting there.

...Friendship! How complicated! It's why he focuses on scooping up more butterscotch-free ice cream instead of saying that he, too, is glad that Emil is around.]

Aha.

[Does he shoot Emil an unimpressed Look... maybe so, because he should have come BEFORE the bed??? Enjoy these several seconds of pointed silence before he deigns to speak again.]

The best thing here is this? And... understanding everyone. Maybe. [Take that! Except... not. He's a brat, sure, but he's not a liar; he knows damn well that "everyone" isn't entirely true, so, after a brief pause—] ...You.

[Like, outside of a dream! Anyway, his softness limit has been reached for the rest of this month... let him eat the rest of his ice cream in peace...]

[Lalli came second because that part was obvious!! Emil gives him a look right back while he "enjoys" anoher spoonful of mostly-just-syrup; don't be sour! He said a nice thing, period, done.

Understanding each other is a good point, though, that's even better than summer vacation in Iceland together. Emil isn't sure he wants to stay here, now that he's really seen what it's like up close - but it feels like they don't have a choice, or at least, like backing out would make them hugely irresponsible and mean. Heaven forbid random strangers in another world think he is mean.

Still; it could be better. Lalli being soft makes him smile at his pile of butterscotch, despite everything else.]

It's scary and weird, but at least we're both here together. [Net gain?? The boy is here, overwhelmingly positive, everything else negative.

But Emil has... a brilliant idea!!]

You know, it would be a lot easier to each you Swedish like this, when we can understand each other. For when we go back.

tragique.....me too

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