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

[sunborne]

i;; like a sore thumb.

[ everything is (more) awkward the moment daylight steps into the hall.

attendants look up and up and up and courtiers begin to whisper, a lot of eyes following the red-and-gold mechanoid who looks like he would rather be anywhere else but is doing his best to keep a cheerful smile on his face. he waves to a few people who stare at him and doesn't seem to mind that most do not wave back.

is he used to this sort of reaction...? er, perhaps it doesn't matter since it looks like he'll be sitting at your character's table for the meal. watch out for his limbs and wings!

when the predicament of maneuvering has been settled, daylight is given little - emphasis on little - more for breakfast due to his size and height when he (tries) to sit down at a table, giving it his all to not whack into someone with his limbs or wings if he fidgets. he politely says thanks for his meal before he turns to stare at it, uncertainty written across his expression while he takes stock of what's in front of him. ]

Um... Do you want this? [ he pushes his share of fruits and milk towards his closest eating companion, trying to be sneaky about it. ] I can't eat any of this stuff except maybe the porridge.

[ maybe the porridge. he isn't sure how filtered it is. he's hoping. ]

ii;; when there's smoke.

[ when evening approached, the most daylight expected was him getting into an awkward talk of what he could do for work here since he didn't want to stay in the residence. he certainly didn't think he'll be part of a search-and-rescue effort in the take of someone blowing up a power plant.

he remembers auntie laura talking about these sort of things happening for nodice. he remembers her talking about the chaos, the heat, the screaming from all sides as people pleaded for help, shouted for direction, and warned for danger.

hearing someone talking about it and experiencing it firsthand are two very different things.

daylight is a little rattled as he enters the mayhem, trying his best to help by pushing large patches of debris and ruins out of the way so others have a better time. he tries to remind himself that this is like scouting but in an extreme environment. move ahead of the others. use something to signal what's a safe path and what's a dangerous path - thank goodness for those pastels he bought, he thinks while scribbling white checkmarks and red xs on what were once hallways and rooms -and communicate with those he runs across once they stop screaming at the sight of him.

when he sees someone is up ahead of him, he recognises them from the hall during breakfast. he scrambles to catch up with them, shouting over the roar of fires and screams in the air. ]

Do you need a hand? [ cough cough! this cloth around his mouth isn't useful, but it'll have to do until his adaption system kicks in proper. ] Hey-! Do you need help? I'm friendly?

[ can they even hear him? maybe he shouldn't be emerging from the smokes with his arc gun at the ready, but daylight isn't taking any chances. he only hopes him keeping one hand raised in the air shows he isn't going to hurt anyone. ]

iii;; crowd control.

[ when daylight finally gets to the last meal where he heard someone had died and there was a riot about to spill over, he isn't in the best of moods.

he's tired. he's cranky. he's got soot and debris wedged in panels he doesn't even want to think of but- he's here and he still wants to help somehow. even if it's mostly to provide muscle if the situation calls for it. ]

Is everything okay here? [ daylight does his best to appear non threatening at possible when approaching someone else he recognises from the hall during breakfast. he winces when he realises he smells like soot and ash and something far less pleasant now that he's in the open air of this place.

hoping no one else notices, daylight tries to roll with the punches and tries to figure out what he can do. it seems he's arrived as situation is winding down for the most part. some look angry and itching for a fight, yeah, but everyone else is backing off and heading back home with loved ones. ] I hope you and the others were alright. Sorry I couldn't come earlier. The power plant- It was a mess.

Um... Do you need anything to be done? Because I can- Ow! [ did someone just- who hit him with a rock?! ]

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]

[yesterweek]

a. STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

[ This whole thing still feels like part of an elaborate dream to Calvin. As he walks towards the dinning room he's subtly pinching at the skin around his palm. No good, he can feel the pain, and it doesn't seem to be jolting him awake. He knows there's a number of other things you're supposedly not able to do in a dream, but he'll be damned if he can remember what those are.

So instead of running through the "am I dreaming?" checklist, he takes his spot at the table and eats in silence as he tries to take in the scene around him, and listen in on whatever conversation he can.

That includes that little exchange at the end of the meal between the Queen and Allairavar. Nothing about Allairavar's demeanor makes Calvin feel like he really wants to get close during the conversation, but he does want some answers from the woman he thought brought him here in the first place.

So when she sweeps off with Verim, Calvin takes off after her.

Only by the time he makes his way across the dinning hall and into the hallway proper, the Queen isn't anywhere in sight. That leaves a confused teenager standing there looking completely lost as he glances around, and tries to decide which way to go. ]

B. BLACK OUT

i. arriving on the scene

[ Prince Loren is kind enough to provide everyone a useful tutorial to teach them air-walking, and Calvin, newly powered (and barely at that) mess that he is has given up pretty quickly on getting the magic right. There were a few cursory attempts made as he charged down the streets, but they were eventually deemed useless distractions, and promptly abandoned.

That means when he arrives on the scene he's taken the long way to get there, is now panting heavily, and is doubled over a short distance away from the gathering.

Give him a second. Hold on... ]

ii. actually doing some saving

[ The condition of the plant's floor means that Calvin is unable to pass on learning that hastily taught spell any longer. It's a little wobbly, but he is in the air now, a torn and soaked shirt sleeve pressed over his nose and mouth as he makes his way deeper into the building, to see if he can find anyone to help.

He arrived late on the scene, and some of the fire seems to have been put out, and the people closest to the front rescued. That means he has to travel in deeper to find the remaining survivors, with a Breaker in his free hand, because there's no way his White jewel is going to do the job of breaking those shields. ]

[thricefold]

i;; strangers in an almost familiar land.

[ ah. there are more faces than she's used to seeing when she arrives in the hall. she's a tad tardy since she had spent more time mending her clothes and, now, she wishes she had hurried to the hall to grab a seat for herself.

the hall is bustling with people trying to get both breakfast and seats and zita is a little- overwhelmed by all the activity here. the times she remembers she's no longer in the carnival still happen and when they do? it's almost like a brick in the face.

now awkward and unsure, she drifts to the closest table in hopes of finding somewhere to sit down. she does her best to look harmless and friendly, waving to the first one who looks up and accidentally catches her eye. ]

Hello! I'm sorry but is this seat taken?

ii;;; lend your ears.

Oh no...

[ to say zita is scared by what's happen is an understatement: the shot is still ringing in her ears and she knows she has to keep moving forward.

people are now shouting at each other: hurling accusations and insults, threats and promises of retribution. family of councilwoman vera surround her body, trying to block her corpse from being gawked at by onlookers. some individuals in the crowd are being held back by friends or family, looking like they'll launch themselves at whoever they're arguing with at any second. some are just trying to get out of the chaos and they are the ones who make zita's hearts hurt for the most. they look scared and desperate and, most of all, confused. like they hadn't expected any of this and want nothing more but for it to stop.

perhaps that's why zita immediately shoves herself in the middle of two warring groups in the last meal, raising her arms up in an attempt to push the groups apart. these are the ones she can tell are closest to breaking out into an actual fight so they need to be addressed first.

her heart is racing and she looks terrified but she's done this before. she's had to talk people down and keep disagreements from escalating into violence so she can do this. she tells herself as much while using the group's surprise of her presence to her advantage: ]

I apologise for stepping in so boldly but— Please, may I beg you all to think of those who are around us? We are in a public place. Innocents are here, trying to not get hurt. Children and their parents. Partners and their loved ones. Please think of them before we go on.

[ she looks around while the groups seemingly take in her words. can someone step in and help her...? ]

iii;;; she’s got the touch.

[ by the time she arrives at the power plant, it’s already winding down. she isn't sure what exactly happened or how many soul were saved from a grisly fate, but she can tell that the night is not yet over in regards to his. there's still chaos and strife and confusion in the crowds and in the air. there's also, most importantly, injured civilians who need help.

so zita helps out in the aftermath. some healing stations have already been set up by healers and members of the medico who arrived to the scene and zita, with the help and permission from the head healer who is running the show, is allowed to make her own station to treat anyone who is still waiting for treatment.

soon she finds herself comfortable busy. her healing powers are in great demand as wounded are shuffled to her direction. she does all she can to treat what's before her - cuts and bruises, broken builds and torn flesh - but she noticeably struggles in healing burn wounds. it takes her longer to mend those and when she pulls back, there's still signs of recovery needed and she looks exhausted.

for these, she turns to the help of others to avoid the risk of burnout. the second she sees someone lingering near her station, she calls out to them: ] Excuse me—! Can you please help the man on the stretcher there? He needs someone to treat his burns soon as possible.

[ she frantically gestures to an older man who, judging by his age and uniform, is one of the line managers who was saved from the power plant. he's groaning, shifting his heavily bandaged body on the stretcher for some measure of comfort. with his eyes forced shut by the black eyes he sports, he needs the help of anyone and everyone around him just to get through the night. ]

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. ]

leo valdez | ota

[mekhanikos]

— BLACKOUT.

i. gimme a breaker!

[ there's a certain irony in the fact that the two big disasters he has to deal here both have to do with fire. your abilities are an asset, the queen had told him, and hey, if everything is constantly on fire in draega, he's starting to see why.

the air-walking is easy enough to get a hang of, for someone who's preferred method of travel is flying on a mechanical dragon, but when he makes it to the power plant and actually looks at it? the fire and damage would be enough, but leo looks, sees the difference in temperatures inside the plant, sees the shields as they keep out some of the heat, sees the people inside them.

it's mildly nauseating, and more than mildly horrifying. ] How could anyone —

[ a breath, then another. he turns, quickly, to get one of the breakers, because his jewel isn't strong enough for some of the shields. and then he runs, straight into the plant, no air-walking in sight. ]

Come on, what are you waiting for? [ he yells to whoever is closest. no time to spare, right?

so come with him, air-walking or otherwise, or maybe just question why he doesn't even seem to consider taking any precautions against the fire. ]

ii. smash and burn.

[ after an hour or so, leo's entire body seems to be smoking, and the amount of fire he's absobed lights up his skin from within, the rippling effect of flames that illuminate his veins and bones making for a somewhat creepy effect.

still, as he walks, the flames die out around him. he has a steady course: a green shield ahead. only, with an opal and the breaker, he's not entirely sure he's cut out for smashing the shield to bits, and so, as soon as he hears (or sees) someone else nearby, he shouts, ]

Hey, some assistance, maybe? [ the quicker they do this, the quicker they can get to saving others. ]

iii. hot stuff.

[ after some time, leo decides his talents are better used for trying to save pieces of the plant, fixing anything and everything he comes across that isn't a melted pile of incredibly hot goo.

but even that, he can only do for so long. he's held more fire than this before, but given that the last time he did so ended up in him blowing up not only a crazy goddess but also himself, he's not exactly eager to go through that again.

which is why he finds his way back to the entrance, stumbles away from the plant and the people outside it, far enough that when he releases all the fire, it burns in a column up, up, up, like an endlessly bright beacon. ]

Okay, [ mutters leo, no longer glowing but instead covered in soot, ] that'll do it.

[ and then he turns to go straight back to the plant. ]

— TWO DAYS LATER.

iv. sleep is for losers.

[ for the next day, day and a half, it's like leo valdez has suddenly dropped off the face of draega. he's nowhere to be found — mostly because he's still in the plant, fixing it with the landen guildmembers. because he can do it, because he's really good at it. only, he wasn't counting on master doriah's breakneck pace, leaving no room for breaks or sleep...

which is also why, when he finally stumbles out of the plant, the power back on in the city, he promptly forgets he could go back to the house he shares with percy and jason, and instead heads to the queen's residence. he gets as far as halfway to the dining hall, and there on the hallway, simply sits down next to the wall and falls asleep.

(yes, there's still soot in his face and hair, his hands are covered in oil, and every other breath he mutters something that sounds like mathematical formulas. he's in need of food, probably some healing, and a solid twenty-four hours of sleep... but probably not here.) ]

v. unfortunate naming choices.

[ ( a. ) it's a slightly more awake leo that sits in the dining hall, poking the porridge on his plate back and forth. it tastes like absolutely nothing, and he's half tempted to set up an impromptu barbecuing station right here. ]

Ugh, this is terrible, isn't it? It's like someone made porridge and then just, I dunno, bundled everything that "taste" is and threw it away.

[ ( b. ) he also listens to what he apparently missed while holed up in the power plant. when someone nearby talks about councilwoman vera's death, leo grimaces, but what he mostly pays attention to is... ]

Wait, she was going to eat in a place called The Last Meal? [ oh man, talk about irony. ] Maybe they should change the name, you know, into something less tragedy-inviting. The First Meal? The Mealtime of Awesomeness? The Sizzling Mealtime?

vi. wildcard.

[ hmu! if we planned to thread something that doesn't fall under the previous starters, feel free to just write up something suitable — or poke me on the ooc post or over on plurk @ celen and i'll write us something! ]

( prompt v. )

[thricefold]

Out of all the choices, I think the 'The First Meal' has the best shot of being considered for a renaming.

[ she can't help but think that perhaps one of her charges would have liked the other suggestions he made. without a doubt, teresia would have gotten a kick out of the last option.

after taking a bite out of her porridge - and quietly thankful there's not much taste to it, given how upset her stomach has been from the stress in the last few days - zita gives some more thought to what he said. ]

... Perhaps a renovation would be beneficial to the restaurant. Given what happened there. I can't help but feel like it might be avoided for a while and I'd hate for the business to suffer for actions outside of the staff's control.

strangers in a strange land

[theladyofwinterfell]

( Sansa, too, had thought to follow the Queen and her steward along the corridor and is disappointed when she makes a wrong turn and ends up losing them. She does run into someone who looks just as stunned as she, though, and Sansa makes a quick curtsy on the off chance he's part of the Court; she doesn't know the rules quite yet but she definitely wants to keep from making any enemies. )

It seems I lost them. I was trying to hear what was happening and I turned the wrong way, I think.

sansa stark | ota

[theladyofwinterfell]

i. strangers in a strange land

( Sansa wakes the first morning in the Queen's residence with a bit of a headache and no idea how she wound up there. She vaguely remembers a dream in which she pledged her help in exchange for a favor with this foreign Queen but here she is now with only the faintest memories of actually striking the bargain. She's got a small room with what appears to be serviceable clothing so for now, she thinks she ought to just get dressed and find food and answers.

Food seems to be coming easier than answers for the moment so Sansa sits down for breakfast, eating politely if not daintily, and looks to make conversation with the person on her left. )

Did you dream of coming here too?

( Sansa isn't certain quite how much information to reveal so she leaves the question open-ended; if it seems a bit silly, she can just play it off as a girl fascinated by life in a Court. She's been that girl before. She can be that girl again if she must. )

***

ii. death of a councilwoman

( When exploring the city, Sansa doesn't expect to have a murder happen directly before her eyes. As someone who has seen death many times in her life and, on two memorable occasions, presided over executions, nothing prepares her for seeing random violence. It's always a shock to her, a dark mark against what should be a lovely world and her face goes a bit white. She freezes for want of something to do and it's only when Allairavar speaks to her with his mind that she galvanizes and starts to take action. Sansa sees that most of the people simply seem shocked or scared; this is something she's familiar with. When she speaks, she tries to cut her voice over the crowd. )

Please, please try to remain calm. Is there anyone else wounded? Sit with your family or friends while we all take account. It seems the culprit was alone and has fled alone.

***

iii. wildcard

( If you want to hit me with one of the other prompts or something new, send me a PM or surprise me! )

hot stuff

[inducings]

[ After doing her best to calm the Blood and the landen in the wake of Councilwoman Vera's murder, Piper's exhausted, but still not done, not while there's a building on fire and people could still be trapped inside. She's already turning toward the power plant when she sees, over to the side, a sudden giant column of fire, bright as a beacon. Just as suddenly as the column appeared, it was extinguished - and there was no smoke coming from anywhere Piper could see, nothing about that was a natural fire -- and the last time she'd seen something like that...

She doesn't feel tired anymore. She starts to run, as fast as she can, through the city to make her way to where that column had been. Fortunately, she's not too far away so just before Leo manages to return to the power plant, Piper catches sight of him.

Even (or maybe especially) completely covered in soot, there's no mistaking-- ]

Leo!

[yesterweek]

[ The polite curtsy brings him back to the fact that they are currently in some kind of old fashioned fantasy world, and rules of civility are different here. Unfortunately, he's still a bit scrambled up and frazzled, and when he tries to match manners he manages to fuck it up. For a brief and incredibly stupid moment Calvin actually starts to curtsy back, before he realizes what he's doing, and tries to recover it into a bow.

It doesn't work. It's very obvious what he was doing there.

Please don't notice, and just focus on the Queen thing. ]

Uh, yeah same.

[ He clears his throat. ]

So hey, when you say hear what was happening... do you mean hear for the royalty gossip aspect, or because you don't really know what's going on here?

strangers in an almost familiar land.

[yesterweek]

[ Calvin is honestly kind of zoned out right now. Considering he's one of the new arrivals he really should be paying more attention to what's going on around him, but it's hard when his mind is racing in twenty directions at once the way it is.

He's looking a bit stupefied when his gaze trails across to where Zita is standing, and his thoughts jump back to the present as she asks that question. ]

No. What? No! It's not.

[ He'll even scramble to pull it out for her. Half politeness, half awkward bumbling, because wow she's gorgeous. ]

[theladyofwinterfell]

The latter, rather than the former. I'm afraid my memories of last evening are a bit hazy at best and while I seem to remember agreeing to come here, the hows and whys of it are a mystery to me. I do recall it being an invitation with acceptance on each side, though, so the comments I overheard seemed a bit amiss.

( Is this person another who come through on a promise the same as she? If so, he might prove a worthy companion in this particular investigation. )

Did you have the same feeling?

smash and burn.

[yesterweek]

[ Overall, Calvin isn't sure how useful he's been in all of this. He arrived late to this mess, has mostly been stumbling around awkwardly a foot or so off the ground, and unlike Leo has been trying hard not to choke on smoke. He's made himself a makeshift mask, but it's not a proper vent for smoke like this, and his lungs still feel like absolute shit from all this wandering around a smoking building he's been doing.

Still, what kind of person would he be to leave people trapped inside a burning building if he's got some means to help?

And in this case, help means awkwardly trotting over to the person who calls out to him, before noticing the person trapped behind a green shield. ]

Oh fuck...

[ It comes out a little muffled, considering he's got cloth shoved over his mouth. He looks ]

[yesterweek]

[ Calvin snaps his fingers, points at Sansa, and gives a single affirmative nod. Yeah, that story definitely sounds familiar to him. ]

Exactly that, yeah!

[ Though in that case...

"It was a one-time spell"... ]

Weird question, but how magically inclined are you?

[theladyofwinterfell]

Not at all, I'm afraid. Magic isn't something done by ladies in Westeros or, really, in Westeros at all. What little I know of it is rumor of strange priests from Essos. I don't know what to do with the idea of it, to be honest with you.

( Even at their short breakfast, she'd seen it used so casually and it's something Sansa will have to take time to grow used to; it's not something she thinks will ever come naturally to her. )

[yesterweek]

[ Westeros? Essos?

Wow, okay, well he was already kind of working on the assumption that if there is one other world there is likely more than one other one, and this is doing a good job confirming that. He's not exactly a geography expert or anything, but... ]

Cool, same boat...

[ That's muttered mostly to himself. He'll speak up a little louder, actually addressing her with the next comment. ]

I wonder if anyone besides the Queen might be able to answer some questions I have about it. I mean, finding her would be better, but...

[theladyofwinterfell]

Their idea of a Court is a bit different than mine at home but it isn't so dissimilar that I think I'll have trouble assimilating. Usually there's any number of courtiers who will have some idea what's going on - or it was that way at home, anyway. We need to just find someone who has been here long enough to know the lay of it.

( Sansa doesn't mention that they ought to avoid those who seem to be obvious social climbers. It's a nuanced thing, determining that, and she doesn't know that she's that good at seeing it herself considering how long she'd been blinded by Baelish. )

It could even be another person brought here by a dream - only one who came earlier than us. While I am inclined to trust the Queen since we are in her custody and care, I also do not think it will reflect well if we're skulking about trying to listen to her private conversations in an obvious way.

[yesterweek]

At least that's something.

[ His knowledge of Court comes from tv and movies, and somehow he's not sure how well he can apply his knowledge of fantasy movies to a situation like this. It's better to leave the manners to the person who already has them.

He's not sure he's all that inclined to trust the Queen personally, but Sansa is making an excellent point about not looking like eavesdropper. ]

And yeah, probably wanna avoid that. So we should just look for someone who is more open to... chatting...

[ He trails off a bit as he glances around the hallway, trying to decide if they should head back into the dinning room or--

Oh. ]

Sorry, in all of that I was kind of-- I didn't introduce myself. I'm Calvin.

[ Court manners are going to take him a bit, because he automatically holds his hand out for a handshake. ]

Piper McLean | OTA

[inducings]

A. Strangers in a Strange Land
[ This wasn’t supposed to happen - not the most reassuring greeting Piper’s ever heard. She remembers saying yes, but her eyes are wide as she takes in the large hall and the mismatched furniture. (It’s like some weird… medieval… cafeteria?) Cafeterias have never been good places for her, and despite all she’s learned the past year, Piper’s shoulders curl in on themselves a little. She’s got a lot of practice at working to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, and old habits die hard. Her gaze flits around the room briefly, marking spots where potential trouble could come from (see them laughing over there? why are they laughing?) before it drops to the floor in front of her. Then she raises her head - accommodating them never made them stop -- and goes to get her serving of porridge. Feel free to:
1. Overhear her asking politely, “Excuse me - this is just oatmeal, right? I mean, there’s no meat in it?”
2. Standing beside you with her bowl of porridge and fruit, giving you a small smile, “Is this seat taken?”
3. Lingering. Definitely lingering to try and figure out how to approach the people who seem to be in charge here. ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’ Piper wants to find out more about that. Then she’s going to go off and explore the parts of the Queen’s Residence to which Strangers have access, trying to figure out this new environment. ]

B. Death of a Councilwoman
[ Piper was just barely getting used to this whole psychic thread thing - fortunately, ‘stop them from killing each other’ was a pretty clear directive, and she hurries to The Last Meal. When she arrives, the two sides have already swollen beyond the original witnesses to the scene, landen and Blood are intermingled in pockets, shouting and shoving - there’s so much anger and fear in the room, it’s oppressive.

What do they want? What can I use?

Revenge, justice, violence -- to feel safe again. To feel heard. She can work with that. Her glance meets another stranger who’s also trying to stand between the two fractions and she weaves a little bit of power into her voice, just enough to make sure when she speaks, she’ll have everyone’s attention. This situation is the sort where if it gets dire enough, Piper wouldn’t be above using Charmspeak to get them all to forcibly stop, go home, and cool off, but she knows it will be more permanent if she can get them to come to that conclusion on their own.

They don’t want to listen, they want to speak so-- ]

Please! [ And her Charmspeak enhanced word momentarily grabs everyone’s attention, but she’ll have to capitalize on that soon, and without Charmspeak if she doesn’t want those of the Blood who have a darker jewel than Opal to realize what’s going on. She leaves the power out of her words as she continues: Someone tell us what happened. A quick glance at the other Stranger. Piper doesn’t know what kind of justice system this world has and vows to find out as soon as possible, but she doesn’t want to lose her tenuous grasp on the ground by making an obvious (to them) misstep. ]

We’ll do all we can to help. We’ll make sure your voices are heard. But first we need one person at a time to tell us what happened.

[ ‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ a pale male member of the Blood spat out. ‘Those murdering bastards killed Coucilwoman Vera right in front of her family--’
‘She got what she deserved!’ screamed a landen female. ‘Our children are freezing at night while she dines in luxury!’

There are murmurs, but no weapons are drawn yet as the Blood male turns to the landen female - at least right now they’re talking. Piper glances at the other Stranger, wanting to give the crowd a chance to hear from someone other than her, hoping the Strange will back her up and help keep them talking. ]

C. A Random Assortment
[ Piper will be spending her first two weeks in the Queen’s Residence, but moving out shortly thereafter. As such, she’ll be easy to find 1) exploring the city, poking about at ruined houses 2) investigating the Guild Halls 3) getting really creeped out by the Ebon Council hall and deciding at the last minute not to go in there 4) attending early morning training sessions 5) practicing Craft in the garden (airwalking?? amazing??? how to.. get it… without falling on her face…) 6) researching at the library (she is not Annabeth, but this is how she was taught to prepare for a role from her father, and after receiving a tip from Prince Loren, she spends the better part of three days in there) 7) anywhere else, happy to write a prompt/roll with whatever, feel free to PM me or hit up my plurk @ somescribbles ]

[ilves]

i. eat your wheaties

[Lalli wakes up relatively early, but he's somehow still one of the last few people to trickle in during this first breakfast, for... various reasons. It can take a while for even the most practical person to come to terms with all of this? He needs some time to himself, but once he finally makes his grand entrance (i.e. sneaks over to one of the open chairs), feel free to catch him:

a. Eyeing his porridge distrustfully as he pokes it with a spoon. He's not enthused about this meal at all? Even less so when he finally lifts the spoon to his lips and tries the tiniest bite. It's not bad; it's, you know, edible, especially compared to the things he's eaten these past few months, but something about the plain taste reminds him of... home. It's why he shoves it away with a sigh, forgoing food in order to look around at all of the strange people nearest to him. Tell him it gets better? Warn him that not eating now could have some serious consequences later? Fuss at him for rudely watching you while you eat? It's a choose your own adventure prompt.

b. Staring down at these mugs of muddy liquid through narrowed eyes, because coffee? What? It's a rare luxury in post-apocalyptic Finland, and he really can't help but to be curious about it; it's why he pours a cup for himself, gives it a sniff, and then takes a cautious sip.

...Oh, gods. He coughs, surprised by the bitterness, before stretching out to pour his mug of coffee right back into the carafe. SOS!!

c. Well, that was... quite the conversation to overhear! Lalli watches Queen Fayura leave, a small frown appearing on his face before he turns to see if anyone around him witnessed that curious exchange. Oh! You, too? Nice. He studies you for a moment before finally asking—]

...The web?

[Hwhat.]

ii. black out

[Picking his way through dangerous places is kind of Lalli's job? Granted, he's never spent much time running around burning buildings, but he's doing his best here. His stick-like build certainly helps; he's able to squeeze through cracks/crawl over debris piles that normal people might just shake their heads at, which means that he's often out of sight of his fellow Strangers. Maybe that's why you didn't see him? Why you're so incredibly surprised when a chunk of sheet metal off to the side of the "path" you're on suddenly begins to... move? Almost like something is pushing it.

Or, well, someone, because hello! When the piece of metal falls to floor, Lalli is standing there, furiously gesturing for you—yes, YOU—to follow him... back toward the flames.]

No! This way!

[Do you trust this soot-covered gremlin? He's very insistent...]

iii. issa wildcard

[I'm down for anything, y'all! Hit me up over at my plotting comment / at tuchanka if you want to discuss stuff!]

for horatio

[ilves]

[Following orders? Lalli's used to that. Lalli's good at that, which is why, after receiving that handy mental transmission from Prince Loren, he attempts to zip right over to the power plant. The earlier explosion was an unpleasant surprise; he's not eager to go charging headfirst into a dangerous situation, but, well... he's a Stranger now. If he wants to see his home again, he knows that he needs to do more than simply hide away in his room.

But running through the streets proves to be rather difficult, thanks to the throngs of curious/worried/horrified people milling about; he's little more than a fourth of the way there when he realizes that he needs to try this whole air-walking thing out, even though he's, you know, rather unsure about it. Climbing trees is one thing, but being high in the air without any support is—it's something else entirely! He's not a fan!

Desperate times, however, call for desperate measures. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself as he calls upon both his strange new magic and every piece of information Prince Loren sent his way. It's not... a graceful rise into the air? There are stumbles, times when his arms pinwheel desperately as he tries not to plunge twenty feet down below, but it doesn't take him terribly long to get the gist of it. In a way, it reminds him of the way a certain someone runs about the dreamscape: taking long, loping strides while ignoring everything below. It's all about finding that rhythm.

Which, uh, the figure in front of him is clearly having a difficult time with? Lalli watches this person—fellow Stranger?—clumsily try to hop through the sky, and he's almost convinced that he should just, like, leave them to their own devices. ...Almost, and yet, as he approaches passing distance, he finds himself leaping over to run alongside the man.]

What are you doing? Take bigger steps! [Stupid. He doesn't outright say it, but it's totally implied.] And don't look down.

[theladyofwinterfell]

( Hand-shaking isn't a custom in Westeros, at least not between men and women, and so Sansa gently clasps his hand for a moment before dropping it. She isn't sure if that's what he expected or not and she hopes she isn't seen as rude. )

I am Lady Sansa Stark. Well met, Calvin. As to finding someone who can explain a little more, I am amenable to helping you find such a person. I have questions of my own and it might go easier with two of us.

[mekhanikos]

But it's so boring, [ groans leo in response, as though this whole conversation actually had any practical impact on the restaurant's name. ]

Maybe 'The Best Meal'? Though, hold on, do they have those advertisement laws here too where you can't use superlatives unless it's somehow confirmed by statistics?

[ wait, no, that's not relevant. what's relevant is what zita is currently talking about. ]

Yeah, that was really inconsiderate of the assassin dude, right? I mean, if you're going to murder someone, might as well do it somewhere where it doesn't interfere with the business of innocent people.

[mekhanikos]

[ there will still be people who need help, leo thinks, and now I'm not in immediate danger of becoming a supernova, I can go back.

except, expelling that much fire takes its toll, and though he didn't let it go as far as he did with gaea — never that much, again, but it's still a lot. enough that his feet are stumbling, and a wave of exhaustion crashes over him, slowing his steps.

it's a shout that makes his step stop completely, though. ]

What —

[ for about two seconds, leo thinks he's hallucinating, that somehow the plant's fumes have gotten to him after all and he's imagining piper there, maybe it's just how much he misses her, and how much he thinks she'd belong there with them, with jason — ]

... Piper?

[ but no matter how many times he blinks, or pinches his arm, she's not disappearing. ]

[mekhanikos]

[ looking closer at his approaching helping hand, leo grimaces. the guy doesn't look too good, and judging by the way he's holding that cloth in front of his mouth, the smoke is definitely not doing his health any favors.

so leo breathes out, and tries to absorb even more of everything around them: flames, but the smoke, too. if they're going to break the shield, they're going to need their hands free. ]

Can you breathe now?

[ and then, with his attention turned back to the shield, ] And you said it, my man. This is pretty much worst-case scenario right here! [ somehow, he still manages to sound cheerful about this. ]

you know what i'm here for (it's prompt v-a)

[ilves]

[Lalli isn't... the most talkative person in the world. He's content to sit and stare at his porridge in perfect silence, thanks, but—ah, is this person talking to him? He blinks warily over at him, wondering if he can, like, slip away before he's expected to respond...

...Well, it's unfortunately too late for that! Small talk: Lalli's nightmare scenario.]

Mm. It tastes like dirt, [he says oh-so flatly, lifting his chin as he pushes his bowl far, far away.] Or candles.

[Has he eaten candle soup before? Maybe so.]