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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
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
Whatever good mood he has is slowly vanishing, replaced with a sharp look as he watches the fire seelies' every move. ]
If they're going to be busy dealing with me, then wouldn't that give you a chance to take some fragments?
[ He's already itching to adopt a fighting stance. If only he's able to manifest his dual blades right now, but alas. He'll have to be quick on his feet instead. At least he bothers to wait for Lumine to agree before doing anything.
He's behaving. Or trying to. ]
no subject
[ shouldn't they swap places? why can't he fetch the fragment instead when he's the one powerless here?
but the seelie-like creatures seem to pay attention to him more for some strange reason, their antagonistic behavior only directed at childe. that's very ... weird and ironic, she supposes, given who he is and what he does for a living. lumine moves a few steps closer towards the crater, side-stepping one that's turned its little spear from her to the harbinger.
... only to pause in her tracks, wincing at the heat they seem to create. said heat left a scorched trail on the ground, too. that doesn't look very promising. but what he says is true. if these things are busy with him, then she can easily swipe the fragments. ]
Are you sure you're going to be all right?
[ she doesn't want to drag a half-dead person across the hinterlands ok. ]
no subject
He rolls his shoulders, smirking with all the smug confidence in the world. ]
Who do you think you're talking to? I'll be fine.
[ Without wasting another moment, he calls out to the little guys standing in their way in what is possibly the most obnoxious way possible (calling them uglies, but you know), but that's Childe for you. He laughs when it looks like he's successfully pissed them off, a whole group of them charging at him immediately.
He's about to play the Netherworld's silliest game of tag. Lumine better act fast while he has them distracted now. ]
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lumine watches from her spot as the little creatures chase after childe like ducklings to their mother. and it would've been amusing to watch if the reality of possibly being burned is low. as it stands, the heat of their rage is more than enough for her to hold an arm up, wiping the sheen of sweat from her forehead. but still, she presses on, stealing into the crater and finding the star fragment.
there's one little seelie left inside and it points a spear at her, the star's last protector. she holds up her hands in the air as if in surrender, offering the tiny thing a gentle smile and crouching on the ground close to it. ]
You know, you look just like a knight in one of the books I've read. [ she doesn't flinch when she feels the sear and burn of its weapon against her skin, steel pressing against her knee. ] I can tell you more about it if you'd let me take a small piece of the star.
[ the creature seems to relent, its expression looking very eager to suddenly hear such a story. lumine, in the process, pulls out the gloves she's borrowed, animatedly regaling a story of a knight and a princess and keeping the seelie's attention on her while she tears a part of the star ... ]
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One look at where he left Lumine tells him that she almost has a piece of the star acquired, so maybe it's about time he tries to— well, whatever plan he might have cooked up is gone within the next second. The seelies appear to be heading back towards where Lumine is, which is alarming considering what she's doing, but then...
Rather than attack her, they seem to be gathering? Around her? Like kids surrounding a fireplace during story time. ]
What the—?
[ It seems they're more interested in the story Lumine has to tell than playing tag with Tartaglia. ]
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but she supposes that, at the very least, they're not attacking or chasing after her—even if the burn the first seelie made on her leg is throbbing painfully. ]
After defeating the dragon, the knight climbs up to the highest tower of the castle. There he found the beautiful sleeping princess, cursed by the witch who had unleashed the dragon ...
[ the seelies lean in closer and lumine closes her eyes, feeling the heat of their presence like the sun on a hot summer day. she wants a long, cold bath after today, she thinks as she finally finds a loose kink in the star, tugging it apart with her gloved fingers. ]
... With a true love's kiss, the gallant knight wakes the princess up and the entire kingdom rejoices. And with that, they live happily ever after.
[ just in time too, a piece of the star falling into her palm as the seelies around her cheer and titter amongst themselves. whether it's because of the ending or her success, she doesn't care anymore. ]
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He ends up lingering nearby just in case the little guys decide to attack Lumine because her story isn't good enough for their tastes, but it turns out that isn't even needed. They look all pretty happy, if not ecstatic that the gallant knight and the princess live happily ever after.
Thankfully, Lumine also manages to take a piece of the star with her. He gives her a Look if she happens to glance over his direction. ]
Is that one of your favourite bedtime stories?
[ Does it come across as teasing... Maybe, but he thinks it's cute. ]
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her lips twist at his grin, a sigh escaping her when he suddenly starts teasing her. nice, just nice. ]
No, it's a fairy tale I read in another world.
[ the tale of a sleeping princess and the knight or prince who wakes her up with a true love's kiss. it's cheesy, it's cliched, but it works, she supposes. what little girl or boy doesn't want to be a princess or prince?
she carefully peels off the gloves from her hands, wrapping them around the fragment like a little net or carrier of sorts. ]
Though I suppose it would've been an interesting change in pace if I were the one to be saved, for once.
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[ He understands that such an offer might sound outrageous coming from him.
Of course, he knows better than anyone else that Lumine doesn't need saving. She's more than capable of doing it herself if she must, but maybe that's part of the appeal. Heroes all get tired, no matter how powerful they are, so he assumes that suddenly being put in the reverse situation would be refreshing for them.
He's done it before too— even if that was just an attempt to get in Lumine's good graces quickly. Maybe one of these days, it will be a genuine attempt.
He smiles at her. ]
Do we only need one fragment? Shall we go?
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at his question though, lumine pauses, her gaze falling to the fragment. a moment later, she's glancing over her shoulder, debating on how she'll retrieve another piece. it should be easy enough now that she's managed to get on the good side of the seelies, but would they allow her to get more of the star, she wonders? maybe if she asked politely and told them another story in return ... ]
I do have a few stories that might appease them ...
[ they seem to have a fondness for stories with heroic knights and there's always a story or ten of those in the worlds she's gone to. ]
Mind waiting here again? [ she asks him as she sets the fragment on the ground, slipping on the gloves again. ] Or would you rather do the storytelling instead?
[ he might finally get on their good graces, yknow. ]
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I doubt they'll even give me a chance. They don't like me very much.
[ For reasons unknown to him, but it's also not surprising.
As one of the Tsaritsa's Harbingers, this just comes with the territory. He doesn't care about pleasing anyone other than her, anyway. ]
All I have are the stories my father used to tell me whenever we went ice fishing.
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their hostility seems to be dialed up to eleven with him despite their lack of introductions. is it possible that they can sense who he is and what he is? curious little creatures, having that kind of ability. or maybe childe just has a face that can't be trusted, who knows.
lumine gives it a beat before she shakes her head. ]
I'm sure you've told Teucer a lot of stories in the past, right? Let's try it, anyway. [ and before he can protest: ] I'll be with you all throughout if you're worried.
[ she has to be there, anyway, if she'll be in charge of chipping away at the fragment again, which should be much easier if she were focused on it. and if the seelies got a little too aggressive with childe, well, maybe she can intervene and pacify them again. maybe.
holding her hand out to him: ] Come on, I'll build the bridge between you and them.