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

[glitzandglamour]

[What was Mettaton doing but always trying to play the game of a human? How many times he'd seen that humans deal with each other, a prevalence of distrust when monsters weren't so inclined. He still doesn't think it was poorly executed to go without appeals to emotion, to cut directly into the meat of bargaining for silence even if he lacked anything Soren could want.

And here, Mettaton nearly closes up like the covers of his journal to leave when Soren voices an inquiry rather than a cold comment. Mettaton's gaze fixes on the Dragon, eye wide and defenseless and imploring for a flash, not a trace of wariness — the core of his nature. But wariness does follow when he considers Emet-Selch's advice to him, to keep his distance from Soren.

So Mettaton considers an answer, glancing at the other Monster's feet.]

... A phantasmal, incorporeal star. Ha. Can you imagine it? [His voice could be lost on the air.] I can't. Or... It wasn't me. Before I had this body, I could only dream of the real me. And I don't want anyone to think of me as anyone other than this.

[He's still not exactly sure how these people regard ghosts, but it hasn't been encouraging. Mettaton rubs his fingertip into the sharp corner of the book nervously. His attention sharpens in desperate curiosity upon Soren.]

Tell me... You're human, aren't you? [Beyond the scales, that's what Soren was, Mettaton assumes. Most people here are.] What do you think of ghosts? I haven't been able to ask anybody who isn't one, yet.

[silentsavant]

[It's not difficult to see Mettaton's point of view, if only because he valued a stage presence, and ghosts don't have much of a presence at all. To be asked how he feels about ghosts by a monster who was one once, and to have the opinion of all of humanity riding on his own, makes him slightly uncomfortable. Not enough to soften the way he delivers his opinion, though: he always valued hard honesty, not soft lies meant to comfort rather than reach any truth. It would be more of a concern for Mettaton if his opinion really did match most other people, who found ghosts and spirits more unsettling.]

I am not the best person to ask, for I used to be a mage. In my world, the source of magic came from interacting with spirits. So... as you can see, ghosts don't scare me as much as they do most people. I've grown too used to them, and now they're as innocuous to me as a breeze.

[Ghosts and spirits aren't exactly one in the same concept, but they're similar enough that the division is negligible. It's been a little strange, hasn't it? Not having their subtle presence to command and transform into his bidding. Would it be strange once more to have them return? He continues his reply, having grown a little more thoughtful to the topic.]

...At first, I was afraid of them. But that's just how most people are. If there is something they don't understand, they will fear and shun it, not reach out and try to grasp it. So I think I do understand why you don't want to let anyone know. You want people to notice and embrace you, not the opposite.

[glitzandglamour]

[Soren being accustomed to the power of spirits clearly piques the Puca's interest. And in his mind, he readily assumes these ghosts are magic... He'd heard of magical humans, but how they'd gained their magic was always a mystery. He wonders if this is a window into that ability. Ghosts would certainly possess magic, he thought.

That was a point in Soren's favor if only because it suggested why he didn't react strongly toward MTT's secret... Or rather, why he hadn't responded to him the way Mettaton expected, though he scarcely knew what to expect at all. Which is why Soren's addition of what other humans might feel is welcomed. His ears remain upright and attentive, though one of them swivels back in his discouragement. Just as he'd always suspected, humanity would be put off by his spectral nature.

His reservations about humanity learning his secret is more complicated than all of this, something on the level of identity and dissatisfaction, but Mettaton's content with Soren's summation of his conflict. He nods slowly.]

I see... [His voice is smooth and soft, and a touch crestfallen. He hoped for a kinder response (though he was in pursuit of truth), but he makes eye contact with him anyway. This is something he'd both hoped against, and had been made aware of.] Yes. It's something like that. Wanting to be noticed for being me. The thought of anyone knowing I took a form other than one of metal... Now that's a thought to haunt me.

[And maybe, someday, he'd have to confront the fact that people could learn of his secret: with authentic robots afoot, with mechanics tinkering with his body, what would it take for somebody to learn he was but a machine possessed? Mettaton manages a slight smile.]

Don't misunderstand me. I love my fellow ghosts. That you grew more comfortable with them is reassuring to hear. Maybe other humans can too, if they just understood them better.

[silentsavant]

You're right. There are humans out there who could.

[Someone like Ike would be able to, without a doubt. If he didn't like him, it would have more to do with his actions or personality than his prior lack of a physical form.]

But some will have a harder time getting over their fears. I may not be a ghost, but... I was once a type of human that was hated and feared. Not because of anything I did, but because of how I was born. I was able to keep it a secret, pretend to be something I wasn't... but to tell you the truth, I found myself much happier when I was accepted for everything I am.

[It's becoming so much easier to admit this.]

[glitzandglamour]

Ah...

[Mettaton's ears remain attentive, as upright as his eyes are bright. Self-disclosure coming from the small Dragon before him is another point of reassurance, something that made him feel less closed off to Mettaton and therefore more approachable when Soren otherwise knew an alarming amount about the idol. A type of human hated and feared... What would that look like? (He wonders if it's anything like whatever Eren is, when he saw that memory of humans pointing canons at him out of terror.)

Moreover, this relaying of experience felt like advice. Mettaton's gaze breaks from Soren, eyeing the tips of their shoes.]

... A year ago, I might have told you I'm happier being known for what you see before your eyes. [Mettaton sighs, not at all out of a need for air. It's a learned gesture to express his feelings, reflective and tense as he is.] However, you might be onto something. It's not always bad.

[The mild, tiny smile he wears is first directed fondly at the ground, but it's flashed toward Soren as well.]

[silentsavant]

[Soren falls silent for a few beats, sparing words momentarily to consider Mettaton's unique situation, then how to express what he had just ruminated.]

If — or when — you become famous, you might even be able to harness that fame to further positive sentiment toward ghosts. Of course, revealing your secret would require a bold move on your part. You may even lose some of your more timid fans. However, once people realize that their favorite star has been a ghost all along, it might be a major first step in coming to understand and accept them. You may even become an inspiration to other ghosts who wanted to be noticed just like you did.

[glitzandglamour]

[The cyborg-Puca nods along with Soren's assessment of his future fame (which is not a matter of if), wondering why he hadn't had such a thought occur to him back home. Maybe, once he made it onto the Surface, he'd come to consider this course of action as viable.

But Soren's phrasing is particularly appealing to the robot. Their favorite star, a ghost... He can't even hide the way he beams at that thought. He doesn't think he's ever met a ghost gone corporeal besides. What a thought. His fingers grip the cover of that red notebook, a window into his past while he basks in his reverie.

It's not long before his thoughtful nod blossoms into a bouncy, determined one, and Mettaton smiles fully at Soren.]

You're right... I could do just that. Hopefully, I can set an example for those of us with something to hide. [Just as Soren is doing for him right now, even if it leaves Mettaton asking questions. Just what birth defect was it that made him worthy of scorn? He couldn't begin to say.] But in the meantime, can I still trust that you won't tell? Now that you know what it means to me, I... I'd rather be the one to explain my secret.

[It's not sadly that his ears angle back, but it's close. Wary and a bit meek against the boisterous rest of the robot, all bright colors and nearly silvery fur.]

[silentsavant]

[ It's not often that Soren's advice brightens someone's spirits like that, so when Mettaton beams like the morning sun at the idea presented to him, the Dragon's eyes widen some, his blink rate increasing. It certainly doesn't feel bad to encourage someone like this. In a way, it might even feel good. Especially when he understands a taste of what it means to be regarded like a ghost. It's a marked improvement over having the Puca eye him with fear. ]

It avails me not to tell anyone, and I am not the type to keep a loose tongue. Your secret is yours to tell. Not mine.

[glitzandglamour]

[And he manages to regard Soren even more brightly, a sprightly bounce on Puca legs in sort of a half-circle around Soren's slight frame. With Mettaton's overall demeanor it'd be hard to say whether that's a Mettaton-ism or a Puca-ism, skipping around whenever he finds himself delighted like this. (It's a Puca thing.)]

Fabulous! Then I've been worrying for nothing this whole time... [That's said almost with the collapse of a sigh.] But you didn't strike me as a gossiping sort. I should have been more straightforward to begin with.

[But what could be more straightforward than silence money?? Well, aside from the fact that Mettaton readily assumed that Soren would understand why it would be a terrible secret. This conversation shed some light on the reason why this former mage wasn't so put off, at least.]

Anyway. Again, thank you for returning my diary. I have... more to find, I assume.

[silentsavant]

[ Soren turns to leave after dealing with his excited (and irritating) hopscotch maneuvers. He can be happy all he wants, but he doesn't have to bounce so close... His tail flicks a little to show for it, his shoulders hunching in a bit as he eyes him with constricted pupils. Other than that, Soren's not aggravated enough to actually get mad and remains relatively tranquil and bland. ]

Best of luck. If I find any more, I will let you know. But this time, I will charge a delivery fee.

[ That was just a joke, even if Soren's demeanor hardly changed from its usual seriousness... ]

[glitzandglamour]

Of course. A service worth the price! [Mettaton waves at Soren, a soft curl of his be-clawed fingers. In other words, he takes the joke in stride. Mettaton's own demeanor remains upbeat — moreso than he has since beginning his diary hunting.] Ta-ta for now!

[Off he goes on impressively fleet-footed feet, from zero to a hundred. With item finding capabilities like his own, he probably has some hints as to the locations of his other books, after all, and they won't wait.]