Intro Log: November & Event: Nothing to Be Drone About It

[faileas]

Intro Log: November & Event: Nothing to Be Drone About It

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and others have found yourselves in, along with... several items, perhaps even creatures scattered across the floor around other mirrors? For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. You're certainly not the only ones here, however. On the first floor, with the doors wide open behind them in the foyer, is a small group headed by two individuals. As people begin to arrive, to come from the higher floor, they're waiting - and they're waiting for you, and your questions. Explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in, or proceed to the foyer? Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is faintly cloudy, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons. The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. THE WELCOME PARTY Whether you've decided to find a way out of the building you've arrived in, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion, along with those which feel to resemble yourselves in a world-traversing sense: Mirrorbound, they're called. "Just a few of you this month, hm? Don't mind the junk across the floor where you came out, someone is sorting that!" The woman sets her hands on her hips, with her Bonded casting a glance at those looking confused - newly arrived - and those who may have followed them in to talk to the newest addition of their mirrorbound bunch. "About time for introductions though- this here's Mhairi Ainsley, ambassador to the Parliament and my Bonded, and I'm Nerissa Bell, Head Witch of the Coven - but you can just call me Miss Nessie, you can," she adds, winking. "The lot of you must be as tired and confused as the last batch - hullo to those who've joined us, too! - so just a moment, dearests, I'll set all you right up—" With nothing more than a wave of her hand, rows of seats are summoned; despite their wooden nature, they're all sturdy and comfortable, filling the foyer and spreading out a ways into the lawn behind them, making room for all of the new arrivals as well as the previous batch. After all, they'll find this just as interesting. The Witches and Monsters that accompanied Nessie and Mhairi move to make room, and some disperse into the building itself to see if there's anyone who needs tending to. Mhairi steps forward as the chairs materialize. "Please, those who are able, join us for a moment. There are many questions that I'm sure you have - we will do our utmost best to answer them, and you may take any that we can't as a promise to find some sort of solution or answer." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here for a handwaved, summarized answer to your character's burning questions. For those that'd like a more player-based interaction, Aefenglom has its own Welcome Wagon! These are players who've volunteered for the role, and those that didn't sign up may assist as well if they'd feel their character would -- have fun, and make friends. Additionally, those with notable injuries or sickness will be attended to ASAP by Coven-based witches, and should anyone be curious about what they are - if they have magic potential, or if they swing a different way - then this can be done during this and the general hour or so the new arrivals are within the Coven's grounds. There are ongoing classes on magic, monsters, and Bonding as well, though they take place more during the day than at night - feel free to have your characters attend them at any time!

III. THE HAVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, it's time to make a trek to where you'll be staying while Nessie and Mhairi continue to search for a solution to the situation. As you're leaving with a few Bonded for guides, peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can. They can even do it as they make their way out of the Coven's courtyard and to the Haven. Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in a program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches put together a little roommate finding service, on a smaller scale from the grand opening of the Haven. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a kind of amplification magic. It reads simply the information you've offered up yourself, or that someone might have written up for you, should that be their idea of fun.

IV. Nothing to Be Drone About It While a handful of mirrors in the Looking Glass House at 3 am on the 15th spat out people - new Mirrorbound or perhaps returned Mirrorbound - many other mirrors poured forth items or small creatures, all on their own. The night cleaner resigns himself to a long night as he has to deal with mess and confused folk, but he isn't terribly surprised. It was around this time last year that something similar happened with the mirrors. They may not understand it, but it looks like it may be a pattern, relics of the Mirrorbound's lives reaching out to them from home as gift or curse. The night cleaner fetches Miss Nessie to handle the arrival of a handful of new Mirrorbound, and then returns to start tidying up everything else. Luckily, she assigns him some help in the form of a young Witch named Emmelie, eager to prove herself. Not wanting to crowd the Looking Glass House, in the ensuing hours, she turns to an invention of hers to sort out the stuff littering the room with the mirrors. The goal, of course, is to get each item back to its rightful owner, and she firmly believes in better living through magic innovation! Unfortunately, it becomes clear fairly soon that Emmelie's brass flying saucers, which she had hoped would effortlessly deliver each item based on magical signature matching, could use a little... fine-tuning. The big saucers complete with six segmented mechanical 'arms' to hold the cargo in place are persistent as they zip around the city, often trying to take the shortest path to their programmed destination - whether it means they bump endlessly into barriers such as walls, get stuck on rooftops or in the River Temese, or knock over people, natives and Mirrorbound alike, who happen to be in their flight path. Some of them end up at the wrong Mirrorbound, and bump incessantly into them until they take the offered item, uncaring if they're who it belongs to or not. Of course, some deliveries go smoothly, exactly as they are intended to, but... they're in the minority. By the early afternoon, Emmelie is sending out a voice message that can be heard by Mirrorbound anywhere in the city, her young voice panicked as she explains what happened with her inventions and your mementos of home, adding at the end: "Ahh, it's such a mess! Look, you've got to help me, and please don't tell Miss Nessie, she'll never trust me with anything important ever again! I'll owe all of you so much if you'll just help find and return everything to where it needs to go!"

Welcome to November's combo Intro Log and event! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up as well right over here at November's Quest Pickup thread. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[bravers]

[Where the hell did she go-

It's a brief thought, a panicked one, and something which makes his heart feel like it's somehow going to force its way through his throat. To him, of course, he hasn't any idea that Tifa didn't remember the last time she was here. The idea that Tifa herself is from a different time period altogether is unthinkable.

He wheels around the throngs of confused, lingering, lost people- each trying to find anyone or anything that they know- until instead, Tifa seems to find him, her touch... a surprise, but not a foreign feeling as her hand lingers on his forearm.]

...

[He doesn't know what to say. Whether he should ask her where she'd been, or say it was good to see her, or...
He needs to say something.]

Tifa-

[Not even half a sentence before his spare arm moves behind him, snapping back and grabbing at ...well, a tail. Connected to him. The same vivid, bright blonde as his hair, yet underlined with numerous browns and blacks as it reaches its end.

He's holding onto it tightly. Restricting it, actually, only the tip offering a feeble wiggle as if to highlight the fact that if he wasn't holding it, it'd be wagging so hard it'd be helicoptering around without a damn care for what the human side of him had always been so careful in trying to keep concealed.

He squeezes it, as if to get it to stop.
It does nothing.]

...I-

['let's go' is what he wants to say. More than anything, actually, but her latter statement makes that stop. His ears immediately pivot back. And his voice shifts in tone, seeming distant.]

...Right.
We should, uh-

[His eyes, underneath vividly bright concentrations of chemical blue, almost look sad.]

Let's go get her. We need to stick together, right?

[...An awkward few steps, holding onto his tail. And with Tifa's arm looped around his.]

You okay?

[somersaulting]

[ Tifa's brows lift in surprise; the ears were one thing, but the tail is something she doesn't spot from her current angle until Cloud's hand shoots behind himself to snag it. She can see the tip wiggling in his grip, and there's a curious tilt of her head, a question on her lips that doesn't get a chance to form, because...

He's different, she realizes. Not different like he was when going head-to-head with Johnny, different in a way that's almost awkward, almost... almost like before. Like that night on the water tower, when he made that promise to her... or even before that. There's something in his eyes more than the stoic coldness, something almost sad, and—

She'd assumed before that it was SOLDIER that had changed him, but now? She has so many questions.

But this isn't the time or place. Tifa's grip on his arm finds some place more comfortable, and she nods up at him. ]

Yeah, sticking together is probably for the best. We agreed to meet up later, but... [ but based on his appearance, he's been here longer than her, and understands better than she does what they should be doing. Right? ] Let's go get her.

[ They barely make it a few steps before the question comes, and Tifa's forced to take a breath or three. Is she okay? No. Not even a little. The last few days have been a mess. Her home left under rubble, their fate taken into their own hands - resulting in this? she doesn't know - and now a world strange and unlike anything she's ever seen. A world where Cloud is different again, and part wolf to boot.

No, she's not okay.

But true to form, she offers him a smile, a small nod. She doesn't want him to worry; he has enough on his plate as it is. ]

I'm fine.

[bravers]

Alright.

[He starts to walk, and ...well, he's careful. It's not like Tifa's made of glass. Far from, actually, but after the last time she was here, how she'd disappeared so suddenly, he's concious- highly so- of the fact she might just up and disappear again.

As with many other feelings, many other sentiments, with Cloud- it's not directly stated. Of course not- with Tifa in particular, there's... a lot between them. So many unspoken words, unspoken feelings, convoluted and messy and-

-and important. So important.
So where he doesn't say anything- not for a long while, not for a number of winding streets, cobblestone-laced walkways, not for what must be ten whole minutes of walking through terraced, victorian lanes filled with soot and smoke and ash, that sentiment is at least shown via the fact it's his arm that holds hers, just as tightly as she holds onto him.

It's different for Cloud, all right.
But he's not losing her. Not this time.

And:]

You need to know something. Sephiroth's here, too. But...

[A glance down the street to check for carriages before he crosses it.]

...He's from before Nibelheim. A couple days, tops. But he's not the monster we saw there. ...Not the thing we saw later, either.

[A pause.]

He's... himself.

[somersaulting]

[ Different. There's the arm holding hers, for starters, Cloud reaching for her where Tifa is used to reaching for him alone, her actions sometimes not reciprocated at all, and others with a slowness the speaks to the same cold expression she's used to seeing in his eyes, at least lately. Not to mention the fact that she feels for a moment when he answers her that he sees past the wall she's put up, like his steps are careful for her sake more than his own.

Different, but still not enough to make her mention it when she's told herself to be quiet for now. Instead, her eyes drift over the scenery, taking in the buildings and the walkways; they're so far from home, and there's something almost quaint about the place, something sweet she wants to admire, maybe will later on.

And then Cloud mentions Sephiroth, and in the next moment it's too different, strange enough that Tifa needs to say something, the thought of Sephiroth being here - and being from before - put aside, at least for now. ]

The monster we saw? [ She stops in her tracks, her eyes searching his face even as a frown creases her brows. ] But... you weren't there. I even asked the SOLDIER there if he knew you...

[bravers]

...

[When her steps cease, his own do in turn and his arm withdraws. It's not something sudden though- or something that would even imply knowledge of some mark being overstepped- it's a natural motion, smooth and easy.

What's not easy though, is meeting her gaze when she looks at him like that, with furrowed brows and confused eyes- it's something which makes his own gaze move away, makes him withdraw a little into himself as the realisation hits him that.. well, Tifa... isn't his world's Tifa. Not really.

He'd been told some time ago about parallels by someone in Aefenglom... well, with far greater capacity to understand that sort of stuff than him. The gist was, that people from the same places, in different times, weren't exactly entirely the same people. That even though you knew them, you didn't. And they, sure as hell, didn't know you. Just some version of you.

And at the time? It made sense. In his own terms, this was Tifa, sure. But if experiences formed people, then... she wasn't the person that was here last time. Wasn't the person that called to him in the Lifestream, wasn't the person that...

That...
His gaze stays away from her.
Far away.

His arms cross around his torso, and his tail finally, finally, ceases wagging, sobered.

...She's Tifa, though. Even 'some version'... She's still worth caring for.

And it's for that reason he decides, immediately, he can't put her through what he had in that inn room in Kalm. He can't have her believe she's going along with a lie.]

...I was.
It sounds unbelievable, but I can explain.

[And to prove it...]

...That SOLDIER was a guy called Zack Fair. You... remember him, right? I remember you getting mad that you weren't allowed in the reactor that first time. And-

[He moves his gaze back to her.]

-And you ended up looking after the guy that was supposed to look after you, outside. Until Zack came.

[somersaulting]

[ She notices the way his gaze shifts from her, the way his tail slows, then stops, and her heart sinks in her chest. The words she spoke were the wrong ones, perhaps, and for a moment there's a feeling like maybe she shouldn't have said anything at all, that maybe the reason she was so worried for him before coming here was bigger than it seemed. She takes a step forward, tries to find the words in her throat to fix it, but Cloud's already talking, confirming what he said before, even mentioning Zack by name.

And...

Her eyes widen, the confusion still all too clear amid the red, a sudden wash of tears across them that she blinks and dashes away as this time it's Tifa's turn to avert her gaze from his. The Shinra infantryman, the one who blocked her passage into the reactor with his outstretched, silent hand; the same one who tried to protect her when monsters attacked. All along, the clues were there... just in direct opposition to everything she knew.

She looks up at him, and this time her fingers find his hand, eyes seeking answers in his. ]

Why didn't you say anything?

[ Of course, there are more questions than just that one. Mainly: how did he go on to be a SOLDIER after that? It doesn't seem like it would have been enough time, and yet the mako glowing behind his eyes tells her that it's what happened.

And then naturally there's the issue of Sephiroth too, still an afterthought in her mind but waiting there for her to settle back on it; she's already figured that time is somehow strange in this place - after all, she only just saw Cloud before disappearing into her own reflection... and here he is, with enough change to him to make it clear he's been here a while - but it seems beyond strange for Sephiroth to be from a completely different part of their history.

Little does she know that she and Cloud are from different parts, too. ]

[bravers]

I was ashamed.

[He feels the brush of her hand against his, and yeah, he's reluctant to take it now. A contrast, sure. But he takes a breath, and curls his fingers around hers, continuing.]

I made you that promise back then, thinking I'd be something.

[It was his own arrogance. Because he was arrogant back then. He truly believed he was better than everyone else in that town. That being an outsider meant he was supposed to be someone else. Someone important. Midgar taught him that being weird didn't make him special.]

I couldn't stand the thought of you knowing I wasn't good enough. So I hid my face, thinking that you not knowing would be better.

[He remembered seeing her, sat on the dirt road of Nibelheim's entrance. She was curled up. It almost looked like she'd been crying.]

...Sorry. For not telling you.

[There's more. Much more. That it wasn't his fault- that he genuinely believed that he was Zack- but that... it's too much. Nibelheim, the laboratory... It's something he's only just coming to terms with himself, and something he's not comfortable with talking about. Not even to her.

...So insinuating he lied, that it was a knowing lie? It's bad. Of course it's bad. It risks a lot- but it's preferable. To... well, everything.]

...I really am.

[somersaulting]

[ It might be bad, but...

Well, there's a couple of things to it that go unsaid, at least for now.

First, no matter how bad it is for him to have chosen to lie, how can she blame him for it? Only a few minutes ago she looked right at him and told him she was fine when they both knew all too well that she couldn't be. Tifa's own lies may be smaller, but in the end they come from similar places: pride, and wanting to protect the people closest to them.

Second... there's more to it than just that, isn't there? Cloud's story doesn't explain the disconnect, the sudden, sharp headaches that he suffered from time to time. Nor does it explain the fact that he's suddenly willing to tell her, when he claims to have been hiding it out of pride.

She's not stupid, and she knows that even now, he's not telling her the full truth.

But she's never been one to push. Her fingers tighten, and the smile on her lips is one that she hopes is reassuring, a shake of her head as she peers up at him. ]

You don't have to apologize, you know. I understand.

I'm glad you told me now, though.

[bravers]

[She ... understands?

His eyebrows furrow as he looks away, and he can't help but feel a little disarmed by the fact she'd taken it so well. In his mind, how could she? How upset she'd been back in Nibelheim plays through his mind, but he gets it. Kind of. She'd just got here. This, making sense of where she was, finding a way through it, was far more important than questioning him about something he did so long ago.

They've got time to talk about it. And compared to waking up on a new world, it's... minor. Very much so.

He brings his eyes back.]

...Alright.

[And. That's probably a cue to start walking again. So...]

We'll find Aerith, and then we'll go... [Home? No. It wasn't home. It was more than just a building he stayed in. But 'home' sure as hell wasn't here.] ...I'm staying somewhere. There's enough space for both of you.

[More than enough, actually. Something plays through his mind, the will to not be apart from either of them is prevailant. More important than anything. ...But he can't say it. So, instead:]

If you want.