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TDM // #1
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
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► 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
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► 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, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, 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, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, 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 very first 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!
► 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!
III. Wildcard
But he has one. He's trying to find it.
But before he finds his door, he finds someone else, someone he doesn't know. Blonde hair, a woman, making her way through this world the same way he is. His eyes widen, about to call out to her when he barely spots it through the fog. The smell in the air now makes sense, this putrid looking creature that looks like it's trying to sneak up on this woman. It reeks, and it's now that his feet start moving before he can think about it.
He doesn't care that he doesn't have a single weapon, he'll still fight that thing, enough for them to get away at least.]
Girlie, move now-!
[A flash of ginger hair flies past her as his heel lands squarely into the forehead of the badaliscus, disorienting it, hissing in anger. He turns to Lumine, quickly joining her at her side.]
Let's go, before we run into more of them.
no subject
but still, lumine will argue with herself later on that that's not an excuse not to pay attention to her surroundings, to be alert when she needs to be. this is, after all, a new world and she has to treat it as such. it's unfamiliar terrain, still unexplored. anything—everything could be a danger to her, even the slightest tremors beneath her bare feet, the nauseating smell of decay and death all around—
and she only snaps from her reverie when a voice calls her attention, familiar in its cadence and expression. but even before she can say something or even understand what's going on, the hiss of the badaliscus draws her notice more than the familiar ginger hair and face of the person next to her.
lumine doesn't even greet his name or call him, hackles raising as she takes a defensive stance. purple electro arcs across her fingertips as she readies herself for battle, but at the last second, it fizzles out.
like fire being doused with water. ]
Why ...
[ she jumps back when the badaliscus hisses again, turning back towards them to snap furiously. clearly, what childe did just pissed it off even more. ]
Lead the way and I'll follow you.
no subject
He nods quickly, before taking off in the opposite direction.]
If we're lucky, there won't be a nest of them here...or else we might be in for some trouble!
[He runs, fast enough to ensure they're not caught, but not fast enough to outstride her. There's already enough dangers in the terrain too, and he's keeping his eyes peeled for them. Water near them sprays from a hole in the ground, and he can see the steam rising from it. Great, and they're both naked.]
Have you been able to find your door? [He shouts behind him as they run.]
no subject
and yet, still someone nags at lumine, her golden gaze shifting over to the person sprinting next to her. yes, that's definitely childe, no mistake. but there's something strange about this meeting that has nothing to do with the badaliscus chasing after them. ]
No, I haven't.
[ lumine quickens her pace, not even glancing over her shoulder to see if it's still chasing them. mostly because she knows it's still chasing them, its putrid scent surrounding her like a cloying perfume. ]
Have you?
[ and she asks this as she jumps over a grumbling fumarole, hoping that the badaliscus would not notice it and get fried by the hot geyser that would no doubt erupt from it anytime soon. ]
no subject
[He responds quickly, dodging around withered brush and boiling hot pits of water. He can still smell that...thing behind him, and it's a few seconds later that he hears it roar in annoyance when a spray of boiling hot water hits its underside, curbing its hunger for their flesh in particular.
Childe looks back and grins...that was good of her, he'd noticed how she purposely put that in its path.]
That was pretty good, [he comments, eyes flashing at her.] I think that little trick of yours shook it off our tails.
[He slows down, giving a good look around. Seems they're okay for now, the badaliscus turning to crawl off in another direction.]
no subject
he doesn't recognize her—or pretends not to recognize her. that's what's weird.
should she address it, she wonders? or perhaps call it out, just in case he's pulling her leg. it's unsettling, sure, to know that he's here, given what this world is and what being here entails. is there anyone else from teyvat who's here? ]
There might be more.
[ that lizard or perhaps other creatures out for blood. and they're naked, literally and figuratively, defenseless against the elements. even her powers don't seem to be working properly. ]
We should keep moving, [ she says decisively, pointing at the line of doors some distance away and starting to walk once more. ] Looks like you were right. The doors are right there.
no subject
Seems like you're experienced with this sort of thing, [he comments, joining her at her side and making sure his eyes are not diverting somewhere that might offend her.] My name is Childe, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you, even if our circumstances are less than...ideal.
[Not the way he thought he'd be meeting people, but it's going to be interesting nonetheless.]
no subject
lumine now wonders if there are memories that they lose upon dying. it wouldn't be farfetched, considering the circumstances. they're dead, after all; there must be some other consequence to this.
for a long moment, she doesn't say anything, doesn't even introduce herself—or is it reintroduce herself? at least not until she's arrived at the doors, eyes flickering from one nameplate to another in search of a name. but she can sense, one could say, a certain sensation that seems to prompt her towards a direction. ]
Less than ideal ... [ she supposes that it is less than ideal for them.
for her, who's still in search of her brother. for him, who has yet to conquer the world and defeat the gods. unfortunate, indeed. ]
It does seem like it, especially since you've yet to conquer the world and crush the gods under your heel.
[ but then, does that really matter anymore? lumine just shakes her head as she walks towards her door, a familiar light seemingly shining from the space between the door and the rough ground. ]
no subject
[What was that? There's something inside of him that nags at him, something that doesn't add up. He just met her, there's no way she would know that about him...unless she's from Teyvat, that is. And even then, it's not as if he goes around and tells just anyone his ambitions. And the way she phrases it, he feels like he could have said those words himself.
Who is she, anyway?]
Hey, [Childe says as he trots up to her, his hand falling onto her shoulder to stop her from going forward.]
How exactly, do you know that? Especially since I've never seen you before in my life.
[Does she know he's a Fatui Harbinger? Wouldn't she be acting more scared of him if she did? Or maybe that doesn't matter to her, which is an intriguing idea to him.]
Who are you?
no subject
again, his confusion is genuine. she can't detect any lies from his tone, his question. even the expression he wears when he asks her is unmistakable. besides, childe is a terrible liar, his body language and face quickly betraying him to anyone who's older than five, something she's managed to learn since meeting him a few times. that's not the face of someone who's still playing pretend.
still, why does it concern him that a stranger knows? after all, he's the type of person who's quite open about his desires and ambitions. perhaps maybe not in front of those he deems as children, but to most, he's unabashedly forthcoming. ]
We've met before, [ she sighs, not expecting that she'll have to narrate this part of her travels. ] Back in Liyue when you were still assigned there.
[ helped her with the millelith, introduced her to zhongli, caused all kinds of headaches for her. the usual. ]
... It's all right. You forgetting about it may just be a consequence of dying.
[ either that, or their misadventures together were not at all memorable. that's for him to decide, however. not her. is it a disappointment? perhaps, but it happens. this isn't new for her, for someone who has a long life and an even longer memory. ]
no subject
And he just doesn't get the feeling that she's bluffing here. But how? Her theory doesn't seem implausible, though he'll have to look into it farther to see if he had lost his memory. He doesn't remember dying. Maybe because he really had forgotten that he'd died in the first place.]
If that's so, you'll have to forgive me for forgetting. I'm guessing that since you know I was assigned there, you know I'm with the Fatui.
[It's not like he looks like a Millelith, nor has he ever dressed as one and doesn't plan on it anytime soon.]
The last thing I remember was sitting down at Wanmin Restaurant for the first time, enjoying my food when I blacked out and ended up here. Though...
You still haven't told me your name yet.
no subject
[ there's no point hiding that information from him when she's so directly revealed it. she also doesn't see any reason to lie to him, not when they're both very much dead and very much stuck in this place. of course, fate could've dealt her a better hand in terms of company, but she supposes there's just no changing her luck even after her demise.
at his question, she momentarily hesitates, wondering what name she should give him.
lumine does wonder if his not knowing her will keep him from pestering her further; his wanmin restaurant comment doesn't give her a clue, really. so she doubts it, but it's worth a shot to ensure a peaceful afterlife with no random fights or challenges. ]
... I'm the Traveler from Mondstadt.
[ now, if he still doesn't know that identity, she doesn't know anymore. ]
no subject
[Now, that is a name he recognizes. It was in the report that Signora submitted after her time in Mondstadt, a name he made sure to familiarize himself with. And going by the description in the report, and looking at her now, it seems to line up. Golden hair, short save for two strands in the front. But it's hard to identify someone without the rest of the profile, being an exotic white dress with a little fairy friend to accompany.]
So you're the one who helped them deal with the Stormterror issue, eh? It makes perfect sense to me now that we would have met.
[She hasn't lied to him, and openly tells him that they've met, and she doesn't seem hostile towards him either. He'll take that as a good thing, though he wonders about his own conduct now.]
There's a lot more I'd like to ask you later, if you don't mind. I think for now however, finding our doorway should be our priority. Perhaps afterward, we can discuss this matter more. It doesn't feel appropriate given our...current circumstances.
[They're naked in a land with poison lizards. He's trying not to look at her chest.]
no subject
still, lumine frowns at his remark, her brows furrowing. the stormterror issue ... was a long time ago, and yet he refers to that as if it's just happened recently.
but that's something she can ask about later. she's really more concerned about her current state of being undressed and the fact that he's been avoiding looking at her for a while now, which isn't really the most suitable way of going about their business in this landscape. those monsters are one thing, but the fumaroles and the seemingly endless pits are another. ]
I've found my door.
[ she gestures at one of the doors a few feet away, a gleaming gold plate with her name on it fastened to the wood. ]
You should find yours, too. I'm sure it'll contain something for you to wear.
no subject
Speak of the devil...
[His voice trails off when he looks up, his door clearly saying "Ajax" on the plate of his own door. Well, guess that's not a secret anymore.]
I guess we won't have to go far to find each other. Mine is right next to yours.
[He can...explain the name...]
no subject
it's a name he's never given her before; it's always been tartaglia or childe. but she doesn't really ask or say anything about it, doesn't even allude that she doesn't recognize it. again, it doesn't really matter, not when they're dead and not when he doesn't remember her. lumine instead just shrugs her shoulders, opening her door.
is it inconvenient that their doors are right next to each other? a little, but she doesn't have to be there when he is and he doesn't have to be there when she is. after all, after this, they can go their separate ways as distant acquaintances.
the space she finds inside is very, very, very familiar: the wooden floor paneling, the silk screens that divide the living area, the double staircase leading to the second level, even the smell of incense and qingxin that quickly surrounds her. liyue, or more specifically, her teapot.
a piece of home even after death. she can't tell if it's comforting or ironic. ]