event: a gentle explosion

[thestewards]

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.]

Comments

[illequipped]

[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.

[ilves]

[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...]

[illequipped]

[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.

[ilves]

[Lalli says one nice-ish thing and this is how Emil repays him! Damn! Not that language lessons are the worst things in the world; learning what they can now is sensible, even if Lalli the Pessimist wonders if they'll ever see home again, but does he look thrilled about this proposal? No, because... ugh. First Craft, now Swedish...

—Ah. Well.]

...Fine. [He's not putting up a fight?? And his expression is almost... smug as he leans forward? Oh, no.] I'll learn more stupid words when you learn how to use magic.

[Check and MATE. He settles right back in his chair, popping that spoon into his mouth as he summons what little magic he has left after the day's adventures.]

This first.

[Learn THAT trick so they can eventually gossip while they eat!!!!]

[illequipped]

Wh— oh.

[He's been played... hoisted by his own petard! To think, for a brief, shining moment, Lalli was being nice and good and just agreeing to his great idea without fussing. One day. Emil rolls his eyes and sits back to glumly eat syrup, giving Lalli a Look when he gets a brain call. This boy!]

Does it have to be that? You're just going to complain that I do it too much if I learn how.

[Because he can admit it: if he knew how to do that thing without giving himself a migraine from the effort, he would be giving Lalli his petty commentary nonstop. Imagine if he didn't have to be polite about other people within earshot? He's barely polite as is!

But the point being: nonstop. 24/7. Direct shot to the brain: Emil Time.

Now then, this smug boy...] Say please and I'll learn all the magic you want.

[Or, like, two things. Brain call and Fire.]

[ilves]

[Constant chatter is indeed something that Lalli is willing to put up with, because this is Emil? The one person he tolerates for more than ten minutes at a time? ...And because he can probably find some way to tune him out if he decides to talk about, like, fashion, but Lalli will cross that bridge when he comes to it.

Anyway—that's gay, Emil. SO gay, even though Lalli just thinks it's incredibly stupid. He already said one polite thing today, thank you very much...]

No.

[Such a flat mental tone! Hmph! Now he's going to keep this going just because he can.]

This is useful? Easy. You're not good with magic, so you have to start here. [And that's it. Kind of. ...Well—] ...And when something bad happens again, you can tell me where you are.

[Not that he was WORRIED!!!]

[illequipped]

[Oh my god Lalli say PLEASE!! Be nice! How does he block this smug little brat because he needs to all of a sudden. They were already undesirable in this ice cream parlor, but now they're doing this dumb thing where only half their conversation is private. The shopkeeper is going insane somewhere behind the counter.

Say please!!! Do this nice gay thing for him, god.]

I thought we agreed to stick together! [Hmph! He doesn't want to do this now because Lalli is being a brat about it. Very mature.] Just telling me over and over isn't going to make it any easier, you know.

[Teach him nicely or shut up, boy.]

[ilves]

[What, are they sticking together 24/7? Please. Lalli's being practical here! ...And also totally being a brat, yes, but listen. Listen.]

Hrmh.

[Stupid noises, even when using telepathy! Is anyone surprised?]

I'm not teaching you now. I'm tired!

[And his ice cream is rapidly melting?? He pokes one of the top scoops with his spoon and watches it, like, ooze off to the side. What the fuck...]

[illequipped]

[Uggghhh he'll never learn magic thanks to Lalli being a baby. Thanks a lot, baby. Emil sighs and holds up his hands, defeated.]

Fine, but don't expect me to learn how to do that overnight.

[That's the deal; be quiet and let Emil do his thing, if he's not going to get private magic lessons. Emil watches this display with only some confusion... What is he doing? It's just ice cream... ah.]

Have you never had ice cream before? I forgot you don't have, like, anything good to eat in Finland.

[ilves]

[He'll drag Emil somewhere after one of their early morning training sessions, never fear. Will Emil whine about it? Probably. Will Lalli patiently endure? Well...

But whatever! It's back to ice cream for the time being, which he definitely has not had before stumbling upon this delightful shop. Maybe he's had, like, snow cream... with berries... but the real deal contains too much sugar! Alas! To be Finnish... is to suffer.]

...No. We don't have sweet things. [...] Not... all of the time.

[Only on Very Special Occasions. Keuruu's motto: Eat to live, don't live to eat.]

Are there places like this in Sweden?

[illequipped]

[Lalli's very first ice cream experience... to think, Emil could have been weird about this the whole time. It is a miracle that he only realized now, long after being himself about Sweden being the best and Finland sucking real hard would be, uh, slightly less inappropriate. More topical?

It's very fortunate, anyway.]

Some! You remember the bakery in Mora, don't you? [Mental note: take Lalli back to that bakery specifically, now that he actually goes into bakeries.] Most of our desserts are cakes, like those, but I've had ice cream before.

[He was once so privileged!! Now, not so much, but never mind. He glances back down at the ice cream ooze.]

I've never had to eat this much butterscotch with nothing else before, though.

[ilves]

[Does he recall that particular bakery... no, even though he looks off to the side and actually thinks. He vaguely remembers Tuuri being excited about something? Something small. Hmm. ...Ah, well. Even if there's only one (1) place like this in all of Sweden, it's enough to bump the country up another notch in Lalli's mind. Lalli likes Finland! It's familiar, and everyone speaks the proper language, but oh, those Swedes... blessed with good hair and plenty of sugar...

Anyway, give Lalli a second to consider cake v. ice cream (spoilers: ice cream wins) before he looks back down at what's left of his treat. He could eat this all by himself! He could! Or he could roll a half-melted scoop over to Emil's pool of butterscotch, because even though he didn't need a sweater, Emil still picked one out for him anyway. Because they're friends.

...It's a tough decision, honestly, but eventually he decides to go with the latter option. Here! Take it before he changes his mind!]

Then eat it with this. [Stupid. It's implied.] Before it turns into soup.

[It's halfway there.]

[illequipped]

[Sharing is very sweet, but, important detail: there's definitely spit in that. Emil supposes that spoon-spit in otherwise only slightly goopy ice cream is on the less gross end of the spectrum of nasty garbage they've eaten in the past many months, so, alright— but deep in his heart, that ice cream has spit in it, and he Knows.

Neuroses aside, though: Lalli has done a whole several nice things for no reason but the sake of them, this ice cream outing, and Emil is Touched. Friendship is... so beautiful...]

Thank you, that's much better. [He will eat of this soupy ice cream and enjoy it, and he will make his dopey friendship face.] ...We can't afford anything at all again until they give us more money.

[Mistakes Were Made]

[ilves]

[Deep, deep down, maybe Lalli is genuinely happy that Emil is here with him! Maybe!! But it's easier to give his friend gross butterscotch and spit-spiked ice cream than, like, actually admit that, so here they are. Two awkward idiots...

But oh, wait—he definitely remembers this rule.]

...You're welcome.

[A quick and quiet thing that he follows up with a shrug, because does he care that he can't buy anything else? Not particularly. He'll care tomorrow, when breakfast is once again bland and boring, but for now... eh. He's sleepy and (almost) full, so.]

What else do you want?

[He says as he pointedly eyes the many bags of CLOTHES just sitting here. Emil...]

[illequipped]

[God yes, those are the manners he craves!! He'll eat all of this questionable ice cream scoop, now.

But first he has to look at Lalli like wanting things is just how everyone feels, all the time, and having no money is among the top 5 worst feelings ever? Because he feels like that a lot.]

Other things to eat? Maybe a book, I don't know. We don't have much to do when they're not forcing us to go deal with their crises.

[ilves]

[A book? Now they're just trading weird looks back and forth, because of all the ways to spend one's free time... how desperate is this boy...]

Hmh.

[A noise of consideration, then, as he takes this all in. There's always spending all of his free time learning magic? That's something that Lalli is 100% behind, but because he's already driven this point home many times today—]

...Work somewhere?

[He's forgetting that everyone hates them here... and that their skill-sets are, hmm. Limited. Where's Tuuri to just sign his ass up for stuff???]

[illequipped]

[Hmm. Work somewhere. Now that is something that genuinely did not occur to Emil, but to be fair, he's only ever had the one job, and it is not really a job that is necessary here in this place.

Also, he really doesn't want to.]

Ehhh, I dunno.

[Maybe! Whatever. He'll think about it.]

...Are you going to do that?

[ilves]

[He'll think about it, which is why he initially just shrugs. Scouting is... Lalli's life? It's the one thing he takes pride in, but he's never had to actually look for a job before?? Because he's never, you know, had a real say in where they went and what they did, so—]

...I don't know? [HMM.] Maybe.

[Decisions, decisions. Something serious to think about as he finishes the last bit of ice cream and drops his spoon into the bowl.]

[illequipped]

[Yeah, also, working is terrible. Emil considers the last globs of butterscotch and decides, no, that's enough. They did it, they ate the whole stipend. Both of them are idiots who shouldn't be trusted with paychecks of any kind.]

Hmm, well, let's get out of here, and on the walk back you can tell me all about what kind of job you'd get!

[Yes!! Emil has too many bags to carry, so Lalli will have to figure out where to return this ice cream bowl. Good luck.]

[ilves]

[You say that like Lalli isn't just going to leave the bowl on the table without a care in the world. He's done with it, so? So. He wanders over to the door while Emil deals with his billion bags, not noticing the shopkeeper glaring daggers at him as he slips right outside. He's too busy thinking about working... in this place...

...Which means that he's going to be even quieter than usual as they set off down the street, so, uh. Enjoy this complete and total silence, Emil. This is uncharted territory for him; he's going to be pondering this conundrum for the next week.

ANYWAY, we can end this here or carry on, w/e w/e.]