Intro Log: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Game Start

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 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 many others have found yourselves in. 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. Besides the new arrivals, however, there's one more person in the building, and only one. A young teen stands; previously bored and mulish, he's now owl-eyed and slackjawed as he takes in each arrival, either from the mirrors or coming from another floor as you try to get your bearings. In his hands he's clutching a broom like a security blanket, until - "M... Miss Nessie! Miss Nessie, something's happened!" he yells, as he drops the broom and turns tail out of the building. Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is clear, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, regardless of their waning crescent phases. Follow, or explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in? 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. "MISS NESSIE" Whether you've decided to follow the hapless young man, 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. The woman covers her mouth with a soft "Oh my!" as she surveys those who begin to crowd in, and she turns to the werewolf (?), lowering her hand once more. (The handful of others who'd come with her peer as best they can from a ways behind her with unconcealed curiosity, closer to the door out than not. The boy previously seen before he ran off can be spotted at the very back of the group.) "This is right unexpected, isn't it?" She not-quite whispers, delight and confusion in equal measure in her voice. Her companion makes a quiet noise in her throat, unscarred eye narrowed - it's hard to tell if that delight is one shared by both parties. "Well, they've always said the veil is thinner during Boaltinn... We'll have to talk to James and see if he was doing anything other than cleaning, we will, but for now, we've got a full house to attend to, don't we? Ah, if they're all Witches, that'll be something, it will!" Without wasting another beat - much to the fond irritation of her companion, certainly - the woman turns back to the newcomers of Aefenglom, clapping her hands together in glee. "Well then! I'm certain you all have many, many questions... As do we! First thing's first, though, first thing's first! I am Nerissa Bell, the Head Witch of the Coven - that's where this house is located right now, on Coven grounds - and this is my Bonded, Mhairi Ainsley. Don't worry, she's a right softie despite her looks! You can simply call me Miss Nessie - everyone does, short of those stuffy folks up in the Parliament, but, well, that's just how things are with them, I suppose." She pauses a beat, for breath, before continuing with a wave of her hand; dozens of chairs and stools, all surprisingly comfortable despite their wooden looks, are conjured in an instant, and Nessie smiles wide as she gives a small bow. "Take a seat, and let's get familiar with one another for a spell! The city'll celebrate without us one way or another, and we've already finished our business for tonight anyway. Isn't that right, Mhairi dear?" Despite the onslaught of information and excitement at three in the morning, Mhairi inclines her head slightly after a huge sigh; her voice is likely exactly as expected, low and akin to a growl. "Best to take advantage of the distraction. Let's begin, before I have to report this to Parliament." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly.

III. THE COVEN 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, a solution is presented. Though they certainly can't answer every question, Nerissa and Mhairi promise to help find the answers, and open the doors of the Coven to all new arrivals in the Looking-Glass House. The walk from the quaint cottage to the imposing structure ahead is lit only by magic provided by Miss Nessie and the Witches accompanying her, as well as the path of stepping stones coming aglow with each step that's taken across them. Beyond the courtyard, with its high, opalescent walls, a city can be seen. There are torches accompanying the flickering light posts outside, and the sounds of life clear even this far from the heart of Aefenglom, something that sounds like... merriment? Festivities are in full swing, even this close to dawn. The rest of the world continues on, even though you've arrived, confused and perhaps missing a few aspects of your usual persons. But while they certainly weren't expecting to spend the festival like this, the Coven has worked as quickly as it can. Their doors, decorated in cowslip flowers, are wide open - welcoming to the public, and to new arrivals as well. The Coven's main building has a surprisingly large front room, compared to its outside; the ceiling stretches ever onward, with stairs of the solidly-flush-against-the-wall variety and floating-ethereally-in-the-middle-of-things variety both. Magic and mundane intermingle as if meant to, with brooms inscribed with runes to clean making quick work of dirt and dust, shadowy figures opening and closing doors as people enter and exit, plates of snacks drifting around as if carried by invisible servers. The brooms are especially attentive to the door as new arrivals step in - they don't apologize for knocking into anyone, and really, anyone particularly scruffy will get swept at until the brooms are satisfied. None of this seems to mind the Witches coming in, with small murmurs of gratitude given to the busybody brooms instead of reprimands. Doors lead this way and that, on higher floors and on the ground floor, but runes glow by their frames in indecipherable patterns. 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, and Nessie waits for things to calm before she steps up the floating stairs and addresses the room. "We'll see to it you all have lodgings for a bit, we will, but for now, the festival's still going on - if you couldn't tell!" She laughs a little, hands on her hips. "There's nothing we can do about things right now, so you might as well enjoy yourselves, you might. If any of you want to stay in 'til morning though, well, we can provide - just mind your manners, magic's real particular about them. At least," she winks, head tilting with the motion, "that's how I teach all my classes, it is." Those deciding to stay will be lead to doors that seem to follow no real pattern by native Witches; the rule is "two to a bed," so get cozy with the person next to you. They're the ones you'll be sleeping with tonight. The beds aren't too small - enough to accommodate at least three humans - and they're fairly comfortable too, for their old-looking age.

IV. BOALTINN For those who journey out into the city, they'll be sent off with a word of warning to keep out of trouble from Mhairi, to find everything still quite lively - and still quite unaware of what's taken place. There's very little left to the shadows, with dim light filling in the gaps between the flickering streetlamps and the extra candles and such people have put up themselves. Curiously, small bonfires seem to follow a pattern, culminating into a wide plaza in the center of the Residential District where a larger, brighter one burns, with people dancing around it, their clothing jingling softly with little bells hanging from their hems. The same is mirrored on the direct other side of the city - the only difference is in who's dancing. The Eastern Bonfire has more visibly humanoid beings enjoying themselves, while the Western Bonfire has creatures more monstrous in looks. Regardless, they all seem to be happy- And the reason is this: Boaltinn, a festival lasting the next two dusks. The nights and early mornings are filled with flickering firelight, while the morning and daytime have all but the small fires leading the way to the giant bonfires extinguished; the bonfires, however, stay lit. - and in general, it seems the city is quite happy, quite cheerful, and quite close. a. The Bonfires The main attraction of Boaltinn, as they are with any fire festival, the bonfires on each side of the city are tended to by various Monsters every hour of the day. While much of the scenes are similar - there's plenty of food to be shared, with those partaking in it cowed into sitting with someone else regardless of how familiar they might be, and children of all kinds play together and invite those sitting or watching to come too, in all manner of games, such as jacks, hopscotch, and running ribbons around the tall poles at the bonfires. But there are marked differences, too. The Eastern Bonfire primarily has humans or those that can pass as humanoid in attendance, and they're much friendlier to those who look similar to them; to those that look a little more monster-like, though, their replies are far more curt and their shoulders colder. The area around the bonfire is also littered with trinkets and baubles, all shiny and new and utterly forgotten by their playmates; the ribbon poles are similarly new, made professionally as if by commission. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. Meanwhile, the Western Bonfire has primarily those who are more monstrous in looks, and they're similarly friendlier to those who resemble them, with a similar brusque and cold manner to those who look more human. The area around the bonfire is carefully kept clean, however, and the ribbon poles look handcrafted from lumber and grass, with tightly-woven knots and clumsily-made paper decorations. Those attending here are also invited to jump through the flames, but no such protection is offered; it's simply assumed that, as a Monster, you're likely much better at handling a little fire. b. A Little Entertainment It isn't only the bonfire celebrations that one can participate in, however. All throughout both the East and West Residential Districts, as well as a portion of the Shopping and Entertainment Districts, there's a number of stalls, stands, and stores available for perusal. Take a gander at the rest of the city and find something to do. Of note: Divination readings are available in various stalls, set up by Coven-official Witches as well as homegrown ones, with tarot cards that vary from pristine art pieces that one would almost hesitate to touch to the personally drawn and cut. They offer free readings, enticing all who pass by to join them at their table. Good or bad, the cards seem to bring with them lessons and words of wisdom, interpreted expertly by those handling them... or as expertly as possible; some readings seem a little unsure and muddy. Regardless of belief, those who take part in these readings will suddenly find their day going either exceptionally well or incredibly poor, depending on the overall feel of their reading. Carts and booths are available for one to partake in more food, however there's a stipulation to taking anything from these vendors: one must share this food with others, either in pairs or a group. While relations between humans and beasts seem to be a little frosty, they can be seen intermingling a tad more freely when it comes to this portion of the celebrations, sharing the treats and small meals that are being offered to everyone. The food available all seem to be those easy to hold in hand, not unlike modern-day food trucks; of note, the thin pancake wraps seem to be the most popular, with a bubbly drink similar to a milkshake filled to the brim with drinking straws for best sharing experience coming in second. Flavors are plentiful and varied, though they err closer to the fruits, vegetables, and spices side of the spectrum. Finally, the more pleasure-based businesses offer the chance to relax one's weary feet and take a chance with a little aromatherapy with their rose baths. While traditionally this had its roots in imbuing the bather with good tidings and blessings for the upcoming seasons (or so they'll say when asked), nowadays, it's simply become a luxury treatment for those needing a little TLC. The waters here do have the added bonus of making those who share them friendlier and more talkative with their partner(s) - and yes, all baths are a shared experience. Rather than being split by sex, baths are split by monster and human; co-ed bathing exists for those who don't mind mingling with the opposite species, and if really pressed, they can offer separate baths for different sexes, but their focus seems elsewhere. c. Impulsive Compulsion Throughout the whole festival, new arrivals, particularly those with magic talent gifted to them by the world, will feel like they can do anything and will push themselves to the limit. While not inherently detrimental, those who feel it will become more reckless, their inhibitions lessened and impulses heightened; trying new things is easy as pie, with any thoughts of fear left far in the back of their minds. While magic is highly discouraged on festival days, given their rest day quality, those under the spell of Boaltinn's madness will feel the temptation to try some anyway, regardless of knowing the proper way of performing it - perhaps it's about time to try out what one discovered in that strange dream... Those found doing magic will get a firm scolding, but no actual punishment; it's only looked down on, and they'll be cautioned against using too much. If any property damage occurs due to reckless magic use, however, there are fines; those without any money to their name can be recruited to pay it off by working at the buildings and stalls they may have accidentally damaged, serving people, looks, or whatever else the business might offer.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. 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 now as well! While technically most of them won't start until after festivities, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the May Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. 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

rey | star wars | vampire | ota

[purpose]

I. THE COVEN

A. [ No one, it seems, knows how to return them home.

Frustrated as she is with it, the creeping exhaustion weighing her down prevents her from doing anything more about it. She hardly trusts it, but the prospect of a warm bed and food to recuperate — regain her energy, and try to get more answers when the sun rises — is too useful to ignore.

— Which is exactly why she finds herself being assaulted at the door, broom bristles rough against her skin. She smacks it away, with a sharp, ] Cut it out! [ But it returns with a vengeance. Understandably so; rainwater has dampened her clothing, and streaks of mud run across her arms — but it's nothing new to Rey. Hygiene had been a lesser priority on Jakku. The broom isn't deterred, still, even as she side-steps and sends the broom's attention to the person behind her. ]

B. [ Two people to one bed.

They don't mention it to her until she's already being ushered inside. Sure enough, there's already another occupant. The bed is large enough to fit more than two, Rey observes — bigger than anything she's ever slept on, and more comfortable from the look of it. Sharing isn't an entirely foreign concept, but it's — unfamiliar. Sharing living quarters, more so. The vulnerability of it, the trust involved in sleeping beside someone who could very well slit her throat in her sleep, is rightfully unsettling — and so, despite the determined tip of her chin as she approaches the homey bed they're meant to occupy, she shakes her head and moves to seat herself on the floor. ]

You can have it. I'll take the floor.

[ The discomfort, at least, is familiar. Comforting, in its own way, when she's never quite known the luxury of a softer surface to sleep on. ]

II. A LITTLE ENTERTAINMENT

A. [ It's curiosity that draws her toward the divination table, watching as the beckoning Witch slides back over to her seat. Her stare is expectant, but something more shines in it — a glint, as if she knows more, has seen it herself. Rey is drawn toward it, a feeling in her gut pulling her to the seat across from her.

More than that, she needs to know. Whatever this place is, it's pulled her from the future too soon, but the vision she'd had before arriving ... It's seared itself into her mind, given her a faith that's become solid and unshakeable. The Witch smiles at her, warm, when she sits — and immediately reaches for Rey's calloused hands.

Surprised, she jolts and forces herself to relax. It only takes a second, and then the woman's fingers are gone, tracing over her cards as she plucks one free. Death, it reads, the ornate design of a skull flashing in its design. Rey stumbles to her feet, shaken, pushing away from the table. Panic clenches in her gut. ]

Forget it. I'm not interested.

B. [ The chill in her bones hasn't left.

Since the dream — memory? she isn't certain anymore — it's lingered, skin frigid to the touch. She sinks into the rose baths with a hiss, muscles tingling from the shock of sudden warmth, and submerges herself to her chin. It's a novel experience; bathing on Jakku would have been wasteful, a misuse of the water in her canteen, but here ...

The dirt melts away from her. Some of the tension loosens between her shoulder blades, dozing off without meaning to, in her bout of exhaustion — until the rippling movement of water startles her. She jerks away, looking to the offender. Modesty has never mattered to her, a social construction without a place on Jakku, but vulnerability has — and she's as vulnerable as they come, bare and without a weapon. She draws her knees up to her chest, almost defensively. ]

It's occupied.

II A

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat's spent her time wondering, peering in at people and the things they sell, enjoying her surroundings and generally just having a good time. She's casual, ready to enjoy herself for at least a little while. The fortune-tellers are an interesting diversion, but not one she's completely prepared to undertake for herself just yet. Instead, she loiters and watches people go in and out, watching as the Witch lays out her cards and people go away either pleased or more rattled than when they arrived.

Funny. She's never worried much about fate.

Rey's reaction makes her start slightly and she steps forward without really thinking about it, a laugh in her voice and a smile on her face as she settles a hand against Rey's shoulder, apparently quite happy to just slip into someone else's personal bubble. ]

You don't need to be frightened. Trying to predict the weave of fate and the future is no mean thing - the card could mean anything.

[ Her gaze lifts to the Witch, lips curling. ]

Am I right?

[purpose]

[ The gesture is too familiar for Rey to resist twitching under the stranger's hand. Muscles tensing, it speaks to years of guarding herself, expecting a knife from the back of a thieving swipe of her haul for the day — poised to defend herself.

There's no need for it. It takes a moment for Rey to relax, reflexes no loner interpreting it as a threat, as her head moves sharply to find the culprit of that touch. She looks harmless enough at first glance, smiling and too cheery for the card laid out on the table, but Rey knows better than to judge a stranger by their appearance.

'It could symbolize much,' the Witch says with that same sparkling look in her eyes, nodding her agreement. 'Rebirth. Transformation. Rarely does it mean an end.'

Rarely. It's a word that Rey picks out of the bunch warily, but something in her unwinds. Still, she can't shake the way her stomach has dropped out from beneath her, rattled with anxiety that won't evaporate. ]

What's the point of trying to read a future if it could mean anything?

[ It's directed to the woman near her, this time, and not the Witch sitting across from her — even if the older, wizened woman tuts in what sounds like mild offense. ]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat feels the tense of muscles, but she doesn't react. If the woman wants to hit her, she'll hit her and then Iramaat can deal with it when it happens. For now, she's just interested in seeing what sort of amusement she can get out of this. And a part of her is curious why Rey seemed to flinch from the card - well maybe there's an answer for that in her being a mortal. As far as Iramaat is concerned, mortals are far too concerned with the end of things.

Of course, Iramaat is practically immortal back home, so that's just a wide gulf that she might never really bride. ]

Comfort.

[ Iramaat replies, lifting her free hand in a little shrug. ]

Curiosity. Because you want to reassure yourself. People see what they want to see when they try to look forward.

[ Her smile stays on her face and she draws a little closer with a glance at the older woman. ]

Why are you looking? Ask yourself that. But then again, I'm not a soothsayer or a sage like she is - I'm a knight. Still, I know quite a lot so maybe you should listen to me, in the end...

[purpose]

[ It hits too close to home. Comfort. Curiosity. The former, especially, in seeking out reassurance — some desperate validation that the Force, even here, had followed her. That it had not led her astray. With that faith shaken, she has only become more rattled, more defensive. Nostrils flaring, she exhales heavily, trying to steady the wild fluttering behind her sternum. ]

I've already seen more than what a card can show me.

[ The Witch, for her part, doesn't look terribly offended. She only tuts, sadly, as if Rey has disappointed her somehow by rejecting what she has offered to show her. ]

I wanted to be sure that I had the right answers. [ And now, when faced with that, she only wants to cling to it harder. It must mean Snoke, must mean Ben Solo, must mean the tide of war changing. It's what she wants to believe, if rebirth is involved. ] And now I am.

[wylderrant]

Oh, have you?

[ Iramaat's eyebrows shoot up. She's intrigued now. What a mysterious young woman this is, with her declarations and her surety and her fire. Iramaat likes that. It intrigues her. So she stays close, hand lingering against Rey's shoulder. There's something like excitement in her eyes when Rey sounds like she has the answers.

What wonderful willpower.

Iramaat's smile grows. ]

Answers to what, though? What questions were you asking? Although I do have to say, I love your determination and drive. It's positively inspiring to hear you say that. I just thought you ought to know.

[purpose]

[ Rey blinks.

Truthfully, it seems — for a long moment — that she's trying to determine if she's the target of a joke. But the stranger — a knight, she'd called herself — looks, on the surface, utterly sincere. Sounds it, in fact. She doesn't know what to do with that genuine compliment, admittedly. It's a different experience altogether than being praised for her skill set and how it might, or will, benefit another besides herself.

She shakes off the surprise soon enough. ]

I didn't have to ask. The answers came to me on my own.

[ By the Force's will, she suspects. Now, she isn't running from it as she once had, frightened and uncertain and unfamiliar. It feels too right, too sure. She knows, more than ever, what she has to do. ]

About someone's future, and how it would change my own. How it could change the galaxy's.

[ It's vague at best, but her wariness hasn't left her. Being in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces — too many faces, more bodies in one place than she's ever seen — has only reinforced it. ]

I B

[warfares]

Don't be ridiculous.

[ mild ㅡ though it's the sort of mildness thrown over awkwardness and uncertainty, as he peers up at her from the bed. he's wound up in the covers, already. pink-skinned and still beaded with moisture from a trip to the baths. ]

There's plenty of room.

[purpose]

It's not about room.

[ She protests it before she's even fully looked at him. Despite the argument, there's something in her that wants to debate it. That pulsing desire for closeness that has not left since the hut, now that it's been acknowledged and fed by understanding and the brush of two hands.

It isn't, truly, about the available space. It's about vulnerability. It's about what she is accustomed to — hard surfaces and windy nights, the barest of comforts. Were she to take him up on the offer, she doubts she would even be able to fall asleep on a bed too soft.

But maybe it should be about room when she stops surveying the floor, dragging a pillow to it, and finally glances more fully at him. Her eyes follow the heat still clinging to his skin, the cloying moisture that must be from the baths, and then she scowls. ]

Do you ever wear clothing?

[warfares]

Yes.

[ she's bristling like a borrat, and he's reminded of the first time she'd appeared to him through the force bond: a cornered animal bearing its teeth. he should be wary.

he is wary, but it's not enough to prevent him from pushing himself up onto his elbows, watching as she settles herself on the floor. ]

They're going to think I did something to you.

[purpose]

And?

[ Genuinely, she can't see what point he's trying to make. Beyond what a child would, at least — I'm going to be in trouble if they think I've done something to you. After a moment, it only makes it that much more clear to her that he has, on some level, noticed her unease with the entire idea.

She doesn't want to discuss her own discomfort. Less so, when she can see the veins throbbing in his throat, hear the rush of blood beneath his skin. Being in close quarters with him will only worsen it. Hunger sits in her throat, teeth tingling, gums burning. Ignoring it, she leans her head back against the end of the bed, stationed strategically to supervise the door. ]

That shouldn't bother you.

[ She says, matter-of-fact, said to point out the obvious rather than to be cruel. They might have come to an understanding with one another, but he is still an anomaly, and the idea that someone might assume wrongly of his motivations toward her now ... It's strange. Comforting, but strange. ]

[warfares]

It doesn't. [ at least, not in the way she means. ]

But I'd sooner avoid them sending me away because they think I can'tㅡ [ he pauses, casting around for the word that he needs, ] behave myself.

[ it doesn't matter that they're still essentially strangers. in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, with the force just beyond reach, he will take what familiarity he can find. ]

[purpose]

You're not going to kill me.

[ Confident, she doesn't waver in that iron-clad conviction. Still clinging to the coattails of her vision, she knows he can't. Won't. But for all of the hope she holds, the faith that Ben Solo will turn the tides of war, sleeping at his side is a different sort of intimacy to knowing where his future leads. ]

I know that. So will they. [ If they're going to assume he's tried to push her out of the bed or harm her in some way, she'll set it straight. It's that simple. Decisive, she looks back over at him, and eyes the pillow next to his head before pointing in its direction. ] Give me that.

I-B

[defendure]

I couldn't possibly! [ Izuku looks, immediately, distressed. She's older than him, so it makes sense in the adult-looking-after-a-teenager way, but he's been raised to respect his seniors, and also women in general. And...well, people in general? The idea of someone else taking the floor just for his sake is at odds with absolutely everything about him, and the teen bites his lips, raising his hands as if in surrender although he's mostly just flustered and trying not to be rude. ]

It's, er, if anyone should take the bed, you should...I-I'm more used to futons on the floor, anyway? Well, I mean, we do have actual beds in the dorms but I'd be perfectly fine on the floor! Just like at training camp. Honest!

[purpose]

Training camp?

[ Dorms? Unclear. They aren't any terms she's familiar with, though she can get a vague idea of what training camp might entail in a way she can't parse dorms. It's not a great matter of importance, regardless; she has to remind herself of that, even as her eyebrows furrow.

That's a lot of rebuffing, as it stands. A lot of selflessness, more than that. She isn't used to an offer without any strings attached, without anything to trade in return, and the lack of expectations for freeing up the bed for her only leaves her further bemused and skeptical. ]

I've slept in worse places. [ It's intended to be reassuring, at least, and more patient as she grabs for one of the pillows. ] I wouldn't be able to get comfortable, anyway. It's too soft.

[defendure]

For school. I mean, training camp for school, I go to a - a hero academy, I'm training to be a professional hero.

[ He's still fretting about taking the bed entirely for himself, but her saying she wouldn't be able to get comfortable on the bed goes a long way to calming him down - he's not more interested in being chivalrous than he is in her comfort, after all. ]

Um...how about this - if you take the floor, you have to take all the blankets, okay?

[ That's kind of fair, right? ]

I definitely wouldn't feel right about it otherwise...my Mom would definitely be disappointed.

[purpose]

Do they really have academies for that?

[ That's ... something. On her second thought, she parses it as less strange. The Jedi, in their own way, had held true to that same belief of molding heroes. Professional peacekeepers, training to maintain peace. ]

We used to have heroes in my galaxy, too. They're all gone now.

[ A lack of social etiquette means she doesn't recognize how dismal she's made the conversation by trying to find that point of commonality, to express that they share something. But she does notice the solemnity in her voice and shakes it, even as the mention of mothers — something she'll never has — makes her painfully wistful. ]

All but one. You'll still need your own.

[ Negotiating, at least, is familiar. That tendency from Jakku has stayed with her. ]

[defendure]

I'm sorry to hear that.

[ About the heroes. He feels like he hit a landmine, and after a second he carefully folds up all but one of the blankets, passing them over with a hesitant smile. While his hands are scarred and a little warped, his smile is genuine and warm, however tremulous. ]

And, well, yes - we do have academies like that back home. Er, eighty percent of my world's population has "quirks" - super powers. I know a girl who's invisible, and another who can manipulate gravity - and a boy with the ability to make his sweat explode. So...being a "hero" is a legitimate job there.

ii-b

[nemuru]

[ It's weird that they're separated by - by species, not by sex or gender or anything like that, and Ritsu isn't inclined to company, either, if he's honest; but he's tired enough, just wanting to relax and let his worries fall from his mind enough, that he simply lets himself be led to one of the baths by an attendant and slips in.

The voice is enough to startle him from his fatigue though, and he glances to find her - looks away almost immediately. While she's not concerned with modesty, and normally, he doesn't care too much about it either... It feels off, and he misses Mao, who'd tell him to keep his eyes and his hands to himself, especially with girls. ]

Mmm, sorry... This is the one they brought me to though, and I don't really feel like getting up. [ He's preferring to turn away from her so he can pillow his head on his arms at the edge of the bath, sighing softly. ] I won't look or anything, so just bear with me for a bit, okay... I'll probably fall asleep anyway.

[ ...Which carries its own risk of drowning, but he isn't really thinking about that; he's thinking about how nice it smells, how warm it is. ]

[purpose]

[ She doesn't release her legs. Despite the promise not to look, it still feels like a shield. A defense mechanism — not against a lingering glance, but the prospect of finding herself so ... exposed. Unguarded, when she has always had reason to stay vigilant.

He's looked away, at least, seemingly just as keen to ignore her. It helps, truth be told, for the familiarity. No one would have thought to bother her on Jakku, either, only interested in their own gains and pursuits to intrude where they shouldn't. Those that weren't desperate, at any rate, or bold enough to steal what wasn't theirs.

Only minutely, she relaxes. The caution hasn't faded, but it helps that he isn't as aggressively hospitable as some of the locals. ]

You'll drown.

[ It's understandably incredulous. It's a bath, and only a bath, but she can't help to imagine it — especially when she has never been so submerged in water. As it is, it seems like a very real possibility. ]

[nemuru]

Maybe if I do, I'll go home. [ A vague, softly-spoken (yet audible, given the echo of the baths) hope, and not one he's really putting any stock in; it'd never be that easy. He closes his eyes, humming shortly. ] ...You wouldn't let me drown anyway, would you? Most people won't just ignore that.

[ Most. There's probably a few people who might, but her already voicing that possibility paints her in his mind as the type of person who wouldn't. After all, she could've just said nothing and kept on her way. ]

So it's fine if I doze off a little... Probably.

[purpose]

Or you'll drown and never get to go home.

[ She says, flat. It erases most of the humor that might be found there from any other person, leaning too far toward a blunt reprimand. It's a solemn thought if she pries further into just how far from familiarity they are — and so she refuses to focus on it, generously pointing out: ]

That's a lot of trust to give to someone you don't know.

[ She doubts she ever would. Not in the same way she had trusted Finn under duress. It's boggling, confusing, that the stranger seems so ... at peace with the idea, so certain of what type of person she is. ]

[nemuru]

(over here, sorry for the wait!)

II-A

[killmarks]

( Clarke's been lingering around the divination table ever since her own card was drawn. Much like Rey, she had also excused herself from the table in the face of what was given to her, and while the diviner had seemed very apologetic, Clarke wasn't a fan of the entire thing. She'd mostly stuck around to see if the woman did that to everyone, if she was just there to get a rise from the participants.

She wasn't, at least not that Clarke could tell. Many others were given different cards. The Tower, The Empress, a range of Swords and Pentacles. This is the second time she's seen Death rested upon the table, and it takes Clarke longer than she'd like to admit to actually react when she sees the woman getting up, the panic visibly rising.

Clarke steps closer, essentially inserting herself between Rey and that too-familiar card on the table. )

If it helps, you're not the only one who got that one. ( Which might not be much of a reassurance, but it's all Clarke really has in the moment. Still, she can at least help with an exit strategy, maybe? ) Come on, fresh air?

[purpose]

It doesn't. [ It's maybe a little too honest, but a lack of proper society means a less tame filter. Still, she can recognize the offering that it is — a hand extended, indicating she isn't alone in her surge of fear. Rey swallows, a tightness gathering around her eyes, and amends, ] But it helps not to be alone in that.

[ The Witch is still eyeing her, unblinking. Rey turns her gaze away from her and to Clarke, debating. A stubborn portion of her isn't willing to leave it as is, ravenous for more — any slip to reassure, to puzzle out the remaining pieces of a future vision that's been ripped away from her too soon. The other half, recognizing the peril in it — and growing defensive as a result — urges her toward the temptation of an escape.

In the end, it's the latter she takes. ]

Let's go. [ Clarke doesn't need to offer twice, after all. Rey is already heading in the opposite direction, casting a wary glance over to the Witch as she watches them depart from their table. It's only when she's away, out of hearing distance, does she address Clarke. The Witch might not have the answers she'd sought, but Clarke — ] Have you been watching her?

[ Or had she given her the same one? It's nearly selfish to seek out the latter, desperate for some point of connection, but the hope for camaraderie — even in misery — is there just the same. ]