[WORLD ONE | OCTOBER INTRO LOG]

[spellbindmods]

Who: The new coven members and old blood
Where: In and around the hub island
When: Day 92
Open/Closed: Open to All

All characters are told briefly what their powers are by Genette -- no extemporaneous details. For instance, if your character has the ability to detect lies, they'll be told as such -- no warning about limitations, repercussions or the like. They'll also be given a variant of this letter so they aren't totally ignorant of the situation -- though of course adapt this letter to the current setting and surroundings of the game.

This setting may be familiar to you -- maybe you caught a glimpse of it when you first visited. Maybe this is your first time experiencing this weird world and the panic is setting in. If you're totally lost, a tall human woman with a long scroll of paper will stop by to give you the run down. She'll also give you a letter, which may give you more questions than answers since the information is a wee out of date. (Maybe someone else can fill in some gaps for you). What is at first painfully obvious is that you're ill-equipped. Any magic or powers you had previously are suddenly replaced with an empty hole in your being. That's not all that's gone, but perhaps that's what's most pressing. Another thing you may notice is that there are others just like you, wandering around and just as confused. If you feel so inclined, you may want to ask around and see if anyone else knows what's up. A ▢ If one of your characters isn't looking to introduce themselves to others, someone's willing to do it for them. Genette is trying to make sure all newbies are accounted for and have a buddy, so she's grabbing them when she finds them and tossing them at the first coven member she sees. "Hi, so-and-so, this is so-and-so! They're new, so show them the ropes -- be friends, okay?" You get the gist. Your character may be paired up with another newbie, a seasoned character or both! Five times, even! Timelines in RPing are weird! B ▢ Let's say that instead of milling about and doing nothing entirely productive, your character has decided to try and venture off to find a way off this huge floating rock. That's nice -- but be warned that the forest is filled with interesting things. For instance, they've happened to find a hollowed out tree that happens to be where a hoard of land crabs are living. They move fast -- run quick! C ▢ Other characters may want to establish shelter before they do anything else -- and that's their right! The problem is that if your character wants to be well-supplied, they're going to have to do things for themselves. There's something of an assembly line set up, but not a lot has been done in way of making things workable. Genette wanted all new coven members to have a little food parcel to take to their hut, but time constraints, you know? If you want any food for now -- or for later -- you may want to cook some of this (poisonous) eel, salt some boar jerky or cut into one of these rabbits. You've also got some berries to eat in the meantime, if you want something simple!

By the time afternoon sets in, everyone should be a little more adjusted -- or, they should at least be a little more aware of the situation. From there, things still need to be done and exploring is always an option! D ▢ For those characters who want to stick around the base camp, there's something worthwhile in discovering the buildings around the area. One such building is the mansion, which contains extra supplies and a renovated kitchen. The kitchen is now functional with electricity and running water, with a few raw ingredients for making whatever your character would like. It's minimal, but also not totally useless. E ▢ If you mill about too long, you'll be put to work. Run into Genette and you'll be sent to pick western part of the island to look for strawberries, wheat and deer (good luck hunting if your character doesn't have the capabilities, but maybe someone else can help?). Run into Genette and she'll offer your character an ax to chop wood with (is this a wise idea? probably not), or a request to go fishing in either a stream or the ocean attached to the island on the eastern side. Or your character can do both if they so choose...? F ▢ With all of these new people milling about, telepathy is on the fritz again. At least, it certainly is for those who are new! Your character may not realize their broadcasting frustrations to the network, or maybe a stupid secret. Their mental filter is certainly broken, but that's at least a great conversation starter. Night finally falls on the exhausting day, and it's time to rest. Thankfully the island is beautiful at night, especially the sky. The night is filled with space worms, relaxing mist and wondrous sights in the stars. G ▢ Adding to the excitement of the beautiful night, Genette has set up something of a...talent show? In an effort to get new coven members acclimated with their magic, she's asked them all to use their magic in some way -- it may take a volunteer, or maybe they can show it off all on their own. In any case, show me what you got. H ▢ Of course, some characters aren't going to be up for this fancy display and will want to go about their own business. There are plenty of places to sit and stew on this island, both private and in plain sight. The stars are spectacularly bright, and the higher up your character gets the less it seems like night time. If they're lucky, they may catch sight of a shooting star, though it's of course much larger than usual. They're directly in space, after all! I ▢ Wildcard! How will your character interact with this new and unusual world?

Comments

[armigers]

[ A grimace twists across his feature, difficult to quell when he realizes that yes, Prompto probably did say too much without thinking. So much for getting to live the life of a cool rogue and hunter, but he hadn't expected to be cornered this fast. While he tries to reassure himself that he's in no immediate danger as most people don't even know what Lucis is here nor would they even recognize the name 'Lucis Caelum,' there's still the fear of being treated differently because of it. Not necessarily the gawking and fawning he'd been subjected to from his classmates and the public at large, but those who'd scorn him for his position or even try to use that information to blackmail him like a few certain journalists and reporters. ]

Yeah... I'll do that. What did he tell you?

[ His eyes lift for the first time to seek out Gaelio's features, studying him much like a cat on its haunches, ready to spring away at the slightest provocation. It's impossible to remain at ease when he's pinned down to his spot like this, whether the other man realizes it or not. They way he'd intoned his name before indicates that he's less than convinced it's his real one.

Now, how is he supposed to untangle himself from this lie he already created for himself? What if Prompto mentioned he was in the Crownsguard? Or referred to him by name? The possibilities crawl through his mind as he ignores his fishing line and instead remains tense, watching the taller man with overt caution.

His thoughts sometimes show nakedly on his features no matter how reserved he'd like to present himself, and it's been a long time since he's felt at all safe. ]

I mean, we're from the same place, different line of work. That kind of thing.

[ It's a fumbling set of words that slip out, one after another before he cuts himself off from saying anymore. This guy would have to be stupid not to know he's lying. ]

[reckoner]

[ Young enough to know better, but not to better restrict his features. Gaelio would attribute it to youth, but knows he'd been mostly terrible at it himself until so-changed those two years before. It does strike him, more than the fact that he's tread too close, that he might have also spoken too much. Less by the wary fix of those eyes, less even by the reasonable question, and more by the truly terrible lie.

What had Prompto said? Fishing holes (check), Noct's-not-his-name,-though,-we-just-call-him-that (if Ray Jack was in fact both ridiculous and true, what sort of nickname was Noct; referring to the color of his hair?), maybe dressed similarly insofar as the black fatigues (check). If Noct, then his best friend. Undetermined if Crownsguard, king, or something else.

Fate continues to overshadow every consideration of circumstances here, with every person, every inquiry.

Yet, whatever he's been charged of, whatever has been true, Gaelio is not as trusting as he once was. Not as. If Fate played, if Qri did tug those familiar with one another, another possibility remained, one he knew too well: that knowledge bespoke not friendship but opposition.

Given the other pieces of Prompto's puzzle, especially the clothes, the latter seemed less likely than the former. Gaelio does not yield to the intensity of that gaze, answering it evenly, reading too much or too little into it. There is much raw in it, enough that Gaelio almost feels guilty for stirring this. Looking out for Prompto's friend had become a troublesome thing for his fishing instructor.

Enemies wasn't impossible. If so, he's already incited trouble for the blond and Ray Jack both, but then, given the size of their prison and the mission assigned to all, the likelihood of avoiding one another was slim.

In any case, they no longer seem to be fishing, so his concentration on the bait and water falters. He's only just aware of the worm's fading. ]

Different line of work, but similar clothing?

[ Blandly. ]

I suppose it would be rude to question your world's fashion.

[ As if a stylistic choice, where they dressed alike despite different professions. ]

I've overstepped. I don't care who you are, if it's a problem. It might be too late for discretion, but you should ask him what he said.

[ Gaelio shrugs. ]

But, I do hope you're his best buddy.

[ ...what? It'd be... nice. As ominous as his selective emphasis may sound, in truth, Gaelio liked repeating it for a simple, innocent reason: it's cute. ]

[armigers]

[ Choking on a breath, Noctis searches for how to really answer that. There comes a point where a guy has to admit his defeat, and his shoulders curl forward, fingers tightening on the shoddy rod in his hands. Gaelio may have momentarily taken his attention off of his own, but Noctis is all too glad to have the distraction there as it spares him from any immediate response to the present subject matter.

And fortunately, the rod does respond in kind to his desperate and silent plea, the tip of it bending with a sharp tug at the line. His own muscles tense up fast as he begins to carefully pull the fish out, fighting with its forcefulness until the rod abruptly snaps right in half. His shoe-string swims away with the stick, leaving a despondent Noctis staring after it, eyes wide and fingers still frozen. ]

Come on, give me a break...

[ What else is he going to say in this situation. He talked himself up only to fail miserably at his first try. If he had his actual rod here, he's certain he would have had a stellar showing. ]

It's usually not- I'm usually not that bad. This is the first time that's ever happened to me.

[ And of course, it happens when he's got company. ]

I can usually keep it up for the whole time.

[ Wrong choice of words. His fingers curl around the back of his neck as he winces visibly and moves away from the water's edge. The rest of his rod ends up abandoned there, a monument to his failure. ]

...Not that. You know what I mean.

[reckoner]

[ . . .

The mood and focus jolts toward the rod in Ray's hand, but what follows . . .

Well.

Gaelio had stared to glean from position and handling how he should behave should a fish tug his own line tight, but there seems little to learn from the embarrassment of what just happened. Though Gaelio looks without judgment, (a long, lingering fix on the water before flicking to his own stick, then down to Ray's laceless boots), the situational irony is incredible.

Ray then makes it worse by talking, leaving Gaelio to look at him, his own expression mild as he watches the younger man dig himself deeper. Soon, all that will remain of him is tufts of spiky black.

Despite his lack of expression, Gaelio can't resist this: ]

Not what?

[ Yeah, Gaelio knows what he meant and what he didn't mean. His lips twitch, repressing humor. He steps back as well, then, holding out his own rod. ]

I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume it was your tool that failed you.

[ If he knows what he means. ]

A pro must be used to better equipment.

[ Or lying. ]

But as mine looked even worse, we should save your last shoelace. Maybe if you cut it in half, you can string enough of both to get by.

[armigers]

[ Such a dismal fate for his shoes. Well, maybe he can find something else to thread them with or start bartering around for shoe laces. Cue him ending up with hot pink laces or something like that.

It's difficult to shoulder off his grumpy mood, definitely not liking when a good fish gets away. He'd been looking forward to eating something that wasn't jerky or shoddily cooked crab. Not to mention Gaelio probably is more certain than ever that all his talk had been just that -all talk. ]

Look, as soon as I get a decent rod, I'll give you a real lesson.

[ Because he's not letting his pride as an angler die a horrible, embarrassing death here. ]

This doesn't end here.

[ His hand curls in a fist, face looking more determined than it does on a usual basis, which is not determined at all. But it's evident he's taking this task Very Seriously. ]

My name isn't Ray Jack, five star hunter and pro angler for nothing.

[ No one participating in this conversation is convinced about that, but he does start to collect what's left of his belongings all the while flopping around in his laceless boots. ]

[reckoner]

Looking forward to it.

[ Though Gaelio intends to allow Ray to continue his futile attempt to save face, he can't keep his voice wholly flat, a thread of amusement vibration through it. At a low pitch, only just discernible, but there. His is not a judgmental entertainment, not having forgotten how this farce began: with his finger down a fish's throat.

Fish have throats, right? Ray likely knew. A diversion that only underscores the point: Ray would need to talk a much bigger game and embarrass himself much further before Gaelio would have any right to judge.

But funny is funny, even to a walking corpse like him. ]

How inspiring. Thanks for your attention.

[ Curled fist and everything. But... ]

Four stars. I won't believe five until you catch something.

[ Even if stars referred to hunting, rather than fishing. And he probably won't believe Ray Jack ever, but again: no judgment. He did only just reclaim his own name, after living as Vidar for two years.

Gaelio undoes the knot of the string on his stick, but leaves the hook as that belonged to Ray as well, taking care to wind the string around the metal as Ray prepares to depart. Once finished, he holds it out. ]

[armigers]

[ Ah, that's right... his lone shoe lace. Maybe he can somehow cut it in half to create two. This is his life now, a painful realization he's left to embrace in lieu of having any better choices at the moment.

His fingers lock around damp string, trying not to look as defeated as he feels. In the grand scheme of awful things this or any universe could throw at him, he's sure this is far from the worst, a reminder he tries to cling to as he nods his head in vague gratitude. The string is then quickly stuffed in his pocket for later experimenting before he grants Gaelio a half-hearted wave, signaling his departure. ]

I'll hit you up when I get better supplies. What should I call you?

[ He imagines he needs some kind of name to summon someone through the psychic network, though he still hasn't entirely figured out how it works. A part of him is still worried others can read pretty much all his thoughts, and he'd rather not make it any easier by broadcasting anything to them, making him rather reluctant to learn the intricacies of communication in this place. ]

[reckoner]

[ Tempting, more than it should be, to answer with Vidar. Yet, Ray would have no reason to know it a subtle jab at his chosen name (subtle yet empty, given the lack of judgment), and it had meaning beyond this. Mask removed (taken), true name salvaged, if meaningless here.

Really, both meaningless here. ]

Gaelio Bauduin.

[ Son of Gallus Bauduin, of the Seven Stars. Killed and arisen. Meaningless. Meaningless? Regardless, he lifts his hand, answering the wave. He's wary himself of the network, given the mess he'd made with his power and that man; his thoughts cannot keep as regulated as he'd like with that man near.

But he's not worried about Ray. Or Prompto, really, to whom he sends a quick message.

For now -- it might be back to catching them by hand. If with a different tactic. Gaelio returns his attention to the fish, the water. ]

[armigers]

[ Not really a common name where he's from but also not entirely foreign-sounding either. Here's to hoping he's really not at all from his world, though the apprehension won't ever leave him, even if he manages to find a way out of this place. ]

See you around.

[ His hand rises in a gesture of departure, tossing him a single wave before dragging what's left of his dignity with him back towards the camp. He's sure this probably isn't going to be the last time they'll cross paths, but he should find Prompto quickly and see what sort of information he's liberally spreading around.

Then facepalm a few times. Sounds like a plan. See you next time, Space Cowboy. ]