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TDM // #2
REBIRTH ALWAYS FOLLOWS DEATH
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
► I. REAP WHAT YOU SOW
a. A CLOAKED FIGURE STANDS BEFORE YOU, EERILY QUIET. It only stares, faceless, towering well over you as you struggle to find your balance on your weakened feet, the air you breathe in scorching your throat. Your senses are annoyingly muddled, and it's enough of a distraction, perhaps, to overlook your state of undress. And then it finally speaks. The Reaper. It's surprisingly polite, its voice a melodious string of low hissing notes as it calmly explains what and where you are; a Restless, citizen of the Netherworld. You were reborn here for reasons unknown, another soul among thousands with seemingly unfinished business, cursed or blessed to roam a world slowly devoured by an entropic force. Hell? Perhaps, if it suits your beliefs, though some do thrive here, and keeping Oblivium at bay is a collective effort.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR OR OBSERVE
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
THINGS YOU MIGHT STUMBLE UPON
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
if you choose to address the netherwork directly as one of your prompts, reapers or any other npc might reply to you. otherwise, feel free to speculate with other characters!
additionally, if you wind up poisoned or injured by a badaliscus, the occasional scaleberry can sometimes be found in the shadowlands, often rotten and scattered around withered trees. you'll find this kind of information in your smartphone's database, but anyone with healing abilities could also come to your aid: just remember that magic in the netherworld is unpredictable.
lastly, if l'appel du vide is too strong for you to resist, and if no one is able to keep you from falling to your death, a reaper will eventually give you a hand, immediately poofing out of existence afterwards.
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
► II. OF SOULS & SHADOWS
a. WHETHER YOU'VE FAILED TO FREE YOURSELF OR MANAGED TO BOARD A FRIENDLIER SHIP, you won't escape the storm, a tempest within a tempest.
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Deaded things slam into you, spat out of the tornado. The sight snaps you out of your daze, but you don't have time to ponder whether this eerie interlude was real. It won't speak again, never directly. You'll know it's there, viscerally, as your Self and Shadow struggle to come to grips with this new antagonistic yet symbiotic relationship. If you've never been kind to yourself before, learn how to, because it won't be.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Enjoying your first taste of sea-salt horrors? You can feel it, can't you. The pull. It's eating at you, subtly, but it's there. You can’t run. You can’t
get away from me either, because I’m you, and I’m just as
much a part of you as all the noble ideals you hold. All the awful
thoughts you ever entertained, all the things you were ashamed of or couldn't bring yourself to say, and all the
lies you told... that’s what I am, and you can’t make me go
away. You can’t outlive me. I’m going to remind you of
all the terrible things you did or wanted to do, and I’m going to
get you to do more of them, because you’re still
you and you still have all those nasty little urges
floating around. Only now I’m here to highlight
the opportunities you have to indulge. Don't be shy. If you won't speak your mind, I'll do it for you. If you ever considered redemption, think again. Fight me or silence me if you wish, it doesn't matter. Even if you succeed. I may go dormant for a while, but I'll always come back stronger. I'm your Shadow, and Oblivium awaits us.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
a. Teleportation, allowing you to vanish into thin air and relocate anywhere you wish, the same way a Reaper would. Usable 4 times.
b. Mind-reading, albeit a bit murky. Think of it as a weak signal reception. Pry some information about the Netherworld out of an NPC's mind, or try to find out what a friend think of you. Lasts 12 hours.
► III. THE ETERNAL CITY
IF YOU'VE ELECTED TO REACH STYGIA INSTEAD OF MATERIALIZING BACK INTO YOUR HOME IN THE SHADOWLANDS, you'll be welcomed by fishermen in the Harbors, and most of them seem... well, a little annoyed, honestly. Additional mouths to feed, and all that. Stygia has been at max capacity for decades, and resources aren't always easily obtained. But they were like you, once -- freshly undead, overwhelmed -- and if they sigh and glower as you pass by, quick to dismiss you, you'll soon be guided towards what seems to be a Notice Board, a map of Stygia pinned just below. Make yourself useful, you're told. If you hope to survive here, better start by earning your keep!
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's second TDM! All threads can be considered game canon and may be used as samples if you choose to apply.
► Check out the Notice Board for additional prompts! Older quests can be found in the comments if you'd rather do them instead.
► For your convenience: Bestiary, Glossary, Setting.
► If you still have questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ. For questions specific to the TDM, ask them below!
► We hope you enjoy your first experience in Nightfell!
no subject
There's no shame in falling off a cliff, Childe. Everyone has a clumsy moment once in a while.
[ as amusing as the mental image is, considering the harbinger, she doubts he would ever succumb to such a pathetic end. that's just not like him, she thinks, reminded of warriors she's read in books who would prefer to die in battle. which makes her wonder even more about what got to him in the first place.
still, her mind lingers on what he said about being in inazuma, and she regards the back of his head curiously. did he, too, like signora ... ]
... You didn't request an audience with the Shogun, did you?
no subject
[ Despite his words, he takes no offense to it. The way the edge of his lips curves up in an amused grin says it all too. Not that it stays there forever. He immediately understands what she's trying to ask here.
He shakes his head. ]
And no, I was too busy looking for Scaramouche. Unless I took a detour somehow, I doubt that's what would have taken me out.
[ A part of him is curious to know how he would have held up against the Shogun, but not so soon after Signora's untimely demise. ]
no subject
[ it must be the most comforting thought in the world, to have his life and safety in the hands of her floating companion and rely on paimon's very sound and not at all chaotic judgment of basic human sense. anyone would probably consider that as a form of torture.
but he's not entirely wrong about that. and given the connections and ties she's made in inazuma, she would've known if another harbinger had been felled by the shogun. ei or miko would've told her, she thinks. ]
The Balladeer might not be in Inazuma anymore, though ...
[ if ayato's information were truly accurate. ]
no subject
His eyes narrow ever so slightly. ]
He isn't? Then I guess that saves me the trouble.
[ That also means the Balladeer is someone else's problem now, especially if he has no way of reversing his fate. ]
What's the last thing you remember?
no subject
that also makes her wonder what happened to the balladeer. ayato never told her where the boat he went on was headed off to. then again, she supposes that it doesn't really matter anymore to the commissioner as long as he was beyond the borders of inazuma and no longer at risk of harming anyone or subverting anything.
her hand catches his arm in the middle of his question, tugging him towards the stall described to her. the woman in question is busy with the forges as expected. ]
I was in Sumeru, helping out the forest spirits with their festival.
[ she knocks on the wooden table to catch the blacksmith's attention, offering a smile when she addresses her and starts asking about the request. there's not much else they provide as information that they don't know about from the posting on the notice board, but lumine can tell that she might need it for something important. ]
One more thing ... [ her eyes flicker to something on the table. ] Can we borrow your flame-resistant gloves? The ones you use for forging. We'll be sure to return it when delivering the star fragment.
no subject
When Lumine catches his arm, he can't help the instinctual reaction to close his hand into a fist. Nothing to it, but he must be getting distracted if Lumine managed to snatch him like that without him noticing in advance. Then again, she's always been quick with her reflexes too.
He remains quiet while the blacksmith explains the rest of what they know. Looks like they won't be getting any information regarding what they plan to use it for, but that's fine. A fetch quest shouldn't be too hard beyond the complications the Traveler brought up earlier on. Even then, he isn't worried.
What's the worst his Shadow can do?
The blacksmith cuts through his thoughts when they chime in about the gloves. They're permitted to use it, but only if they promise to pay for it if they lose the pair in the Hinterlands. ]
Don't worry. As long as she's the one holding onto them, we'll bring them back to you with no problem.
[ There's your vote of confidence. ]
no subject
lumine stashes the gloves in the same space where she keeps her sword before she offers the woman a nod and tugs her companion away. that should at least make sure it survives their trek through the hinterlands. the question is if she'll be able to summon it or not, but she's trying not to think about it for now. she'll cross that bridge if/when she gets there. ]
Since she's a blacksmith, I suspect she wants to create a weapon out of the star fragment ...
[ that's obvious enough, and she won't be the first to use a meteorite as a material for forging. the question is, of course, if it'll last longer than the usual item in this world.
lumine shakes her head as she walks purposefully across the city towards the hinterlands. what if it's possible, though, without soul-forging? stars contain various types of metals and minerals; it might make for a better blade. but how dangerous would it be to try and carry two fragments? she wants to try, but. ]
You never found your Vision even beyond the door with your name in the Shadowlands?
no subject
[ And spoiled, but hey. If someone told him they were going to make him a bow out of the stars, he isn't going to refuse it either, but given what he's heard about weapons... He wonders if it'll be forged with someone else's soul too.
He glances at Lumine for a split-second, and then keeps his eyes on the road, shaking his head. ]
It wasn't there. I have no idea where it could possibly be, but if you ask me, I'd rather have my Delusion back.
[ That was the Tsaritsa's gift, after all, so that makes it way more important than his Vision. ]
It has to be here somewhere though. I'll find it one way or another.
no subject
[ that's, of course, not counting herself and her twin brother ... but she assumes childe knows what she means; after all, falling stars were a subject of interest and debate months ago, the balladeer even showing his face to her for the first time.
at the mention of his delusion, lumine briefly wrinkles her nose but says nothing about it further. whatever opinion she has about his missing delusion remains unspoken, unwilling to get into a debate about it. it isn't as if childe is unaware of the events in inazuma, anyway. ]
It's not one of your Tethers, is it?
[ if it was, then could it still be used in its state? she sure couldn't with the her serenitea pot and her journal. ]
no subject
He simply shrugs his shoulders at her — both over the topic of his Delusion and as an answer to her question. ]
It's not. I still don't get what those are supposed to be, but they're all important, aren't they?
[ Just seeing his siblings' letters alone is enough to convince him of that. ]
no subject
It supposedly ties you to life. An anchor of sorts, I guess, that prevents you from being swallowed by your shadow and Oblivium.
[ which is, well, strange, considering they're already dead. supposedly. but then, she assumes that oblivium is similar to the abyss, devouring the living and destroying them. maybe that's why aether is behind her door, a reminder of the possibility if she were to allow the abyss to consume her whole.
it's also her one light at the end of the tunnel, the hope that he's still alive somewhere in teyvat and not here in the netherworld with her. ]
If you also decide on a Soulmate, they apparently need to touch your Tethers upon inviting them into her home. A trust exercise, if you think about it.
no subject
Still, though— ]
Aren't we supposed to be "dead"? [ As if reading her mind. ] Why do we need anything to anchor us like that?
[ Makes no sense, if you ask him. But whatever. He looks towards the gates where there are guards milling about. ]
That's where we need to go, right?
[ ... Is he going to touch the Soulmate stuff? Nah. ]
no subject
she gives him a nod. ]
Further past them, yes.
[ she can feel the wary gaze of the guards on her, seemingly wondering if they're one of those restless who's succumbed to their own shadows. but she pays no mind to them, walking purposefully toward the threshold of the gate. beyond it would be the hinterlands, and she's yet to find a map detailing its different paths and roads. ]
Apparently, even the farms and residences in the Hinterlands are not marked on any map ... [ good thing she has a good memory, then. ] Ready?
no subject
He follows after her dutifully, paying no mind to the guards either. ]
I've been ready for a while. You have a good sense of direction, right? I'll be counting on you as my guiding star, girlie.
[ Time to see what all the fuss is about regarding the Hinterlands. So far, nothing really stands out, but he's new around here and Lumine might know something he doesn't. He'll keep his guard up regardless. ]
no subject
and the soulmate issue, too, now that she's had to mention it. ]
Are you sure you should be putting your trust in me? In a place that we're both unfamiliar with?
[ not that she'd deliberately lose him, but wasn't he the one warning her before not to trust anyone? and yet, here he is now, putting his faith in her sense of direction. which she'd like to think she's managed to hone, but still. ]
no subject
[ Despite his words, they're laced with amusement and nothing else. Tartaglia mostly keeps his eyes trained on the path ahead of them just in case anything tries to ambush them along the way, but his full attention is still focused on Lumine and not much else. ]
You're my guiding star. It's not a matter of trust— I know you won't lead me astray.
[ If Lumine isn't going to push him to elaborate on the metaphor, then he won't cough up the explanation freely. To him, it's pretty obvious: she reminds him a whole lot of the stars, and then there's that saying about the light at the end of the tunnel. These are things that are probably too embarrassing to say out loud, but here he is, thinking about them anyway. ]
Unless leading us down the wrong path is your idea of extending our time together, then I don't mind that at all. But you know you could also just ask me directly, yeah?
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not that lumine says that out loud. he's self-aware enough that she doesn't need to point these little things out, knowing that he'd eventually realize it—or at least, knows about it already. that's an expectation she has of him as someone who's managed to get imposed on by him. ]
I don't think this is the best place for us to hang out for an extended period of time.
[ like is this really??? a prime dating spot??? this is even worse than going to dragonspine or tsurumi. ]
... Though I can understand if it's to your taste, knowing you.
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He finds himself laughing over her comment, if only because he can't deny it. The Hinterlands look nothing special, really, but the thought of encountering Restless who gave in to their Shadows is pretty enticing. He loves the thrill it promises. ]
Wouldn't this place be a fitting location for our battle? If both of us succumbed to our Shadow's whims...
[ His own Shadow has been whispering violent things, encouraging him to fight, to make others bleed. To kill them and ruin them until there's nothing left. Those thoughts remain even when he looks at Lumine with a brilliant smile on his face. ]
We wouldn't have to hold back. You can ruin me for good, if you wanted. [ Hah. ] I'd let you.
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she can feel the tendrils of influence of her shadows wrapping around her mind, her heart. a high-pitched voice whispering in her ear to heed childe's suggestion, to let go of her inhibitions, to choice violence for once. it isn't as if she's unused to it, a traveler whose hands are stained red with the blood of those she and her twin brother had defeated.
not just in teyvat, but in the other planets they've been to. worlds have burned for le— ]
Don't tempt me.
[ she says that despite knowing that childe would anyway, if only to push her off the edge so he can get what he wants. ]
I've been trying to hold my Shadow back since I woke up a month ago.
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But you wouldn't need to hold it back. [ Not around him, at least. ] Who better to handle you at your worst than me?
[ He would be surprised if she denies that. Maybe downright insulted, actually, but he's always been immature when it comes to being denied what he wants.
The only thing that's lacking is his own Vision and Delusion. If he had it, he would have tried to attack Lumine by now — something she'd likely recognize when he curls his hands into fists before dropping them back to his sides. Alas, it'll have to wait. ]
Think about it.
[ He'll leave it at that, turning his back on her so he can begin to move forward once more. ]
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the moment his hands close to fists, her sword manifests in a flash of gold in her palm. purple electro crackle menacingly, arcing across its silver blade. her own shadow giggles at the back of her head as its claws dig deep into her heart, sending threads of excitement and electricity through her. but even before it can lift her hand and her sword up, summoning the elements to respond to its whims, lumine grabs her wrist. ]
Stop— [ the warning is not addressed at childe but at herself, her fingers tightening their grip.
it takes a full minute before the sword finally disappears, motes of light surrounding her hand. lumine looks visibly shaken for a moment before she wordlessly starts walking again, moving past childe. ]
Let's keep walking.
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He can't wait to see it unleashed. He'll find a way to make it happen, no matter what it takes.
For now— ]
Sure.
[ He plays the part of a regular companion, trailing a few steps behind her. The Hinterlands could have been the most exciting place in the Netherworld but it wouldn't hold Tartaglia's interest at all as long as Lumine is here. She might feel his gaze on him all the while, but at least he doesn't bring up the earlier topic anymore.
And luckily, it's not long before they seem to have found what they're looking for. ]
—hm? What's that up ahead?
[ There's someone tending goats. Maybe they'll point them in the right direction. ]
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but she knows that a contingency plan needs to be put into place in case she loses control, a dire one if warranted. she wonders if kokomi will hear her out.
her pace quickens when he points out a goatherder a few meters away, eager to put this behind her. another person should bring her back to her senses and get her to focus on this commission. even if they might be risking interacting with someone who's yielded to their shadow. ]
Someone we can ask for further directions.
[ he doesn't want to get lost, right? neither does she, not when childe has the ability to unhinge her shadow. ]
Let's go say hi.
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When they approach the goatherd, his good mood doesn't dissipate at all. ]
Hey. Can we ask you a few things?
[ Once he's caught the goatherd's attention, he starts to describe what they're looking for. It seems this is something that they've heard plenty of times before because they're pointing to a specific direction without much else. Not much farther from here, you'll find what you're looking for, they say, and then they're back to tending their goats.
It's such a quick interaction that it makes the Harbinger blink. ]
... Well, I guess we're getting close.
[ Onwards— to the crater.
The closer they get, the more obvious there's movement in the crater. What could those be? Dancing flames? It almost reminds him of seelies, but they look different. ]
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closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath to push down any growing desire to let out steam, allowing childe to sort things out with the goatherd. ]
I guess there were others looking for the same thing.
[ why else would the goatherd be so quick and efficient in answering questions about the star fragment? she does wonder if there's anything left; she doesn't know how big the meteorite is or if it can be carried as a whole.
nearing the crater, her pace slows down once more, her eyes narrowing as she tries to make sense of the flames? fire? moving in and around the pit. lumine shifts closer, only to be faced by tiny seelie-like creatures that immediately turn towards him aggressively. ]
... Any ideas on how to deal with them? And don't say we're fighting, you don't have your Vision.
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