TEST DRIVE MEME | #01

[triumvirmod]

Test-Drive-Meme #01

Welcome to our first ever TDM! This is open to all players looking to join our game or simply have some fun. Play on this TDM does not equate to intent or obligation to apply to join. Players on this TDM should follow all game rules and Characters should meet all game suitability standards per our FAQ. TDM threads are considered game canon for characters who join! The Moon Pact is in power for the full duration of this TDM, putting Sun Pact characters as in service. Moon Pact bindings are presently glittering silver and Sun Pact bindings are unpolished brass. Pact and Class can both be freely player assigned and swapped at will for the purpose of the TDM.

Overseer, Awaken and Conquer

CW: Descriptions of dubiously consensual touch, choking, hallucinations, falling.

The Hands that Grasp

Consciousness wanes. From calm oblivion reaches a pair of elegant hands. Fingertips caress, trailing physical form, mapping curves and divots. Some dark or desperate compulsion leans into the comfort of this touch. The hands dig in. Clasping tight at the neck and pull downward. Down and down, through unclear space, through unclear time. Your character awakens with a start. Where they last felt those hands grasping into them, a collar now rests. Prying does not budge the solid metal, which is either of silver or of brass. Before their eyes is a pane of stained glass. Inscribed in a language all can read are the words Overseer, Awaken and Conquer.

The Glass Coffins

Overseers awaken, contained within a coffin of ornate, metal framework and glass. For some, a light push will cause the lid to swing open. For others, the enclosure may stick or prove too heavy to budge. Breaking free is an option, though mysteriously, the glass fully repairs itself within minutes of sustaining damage. Other Overseers may be present throughout the hallways, willing and able to aid in opening stubborn coffins. That is, should their unlucky inhabitants be able to get their attention through the sound dampening barrier. Overseers continually awaken, either individually or in batches, throughout the month. This will last until the day of the upcoming solstice.

The Gilded Cradle

Innumerable rows of glass coffins line the interior of a grand cathedral tower. Somehow, the name of this stained glass spire is imprinted in the mind of all Overseers. This is known as the Gilded Cradle within Absentia. Where or what is Absentia? How did they arrive here? Why are they here? The answers to such questions remain unknown. These names are as far as the foreign memory serves Overseers. The foggy corridors spiral downward, a staircase connecting floor after floor of largely unopened coffins. Many have glass too hazy to see within. The hallways are heavy with the scent of lavender tinged magic and lightning storm ozone, made visible as a thick haze in the air. Through this fog, Overseers may notice one another or they may see phantoms running by. People familiar to them. Chasing after these figments is a foolish endeavor, they will pick up speed into the thick of the fog. There, they will disappear. This can leave unsuspecting Overseers teetering on the topmost edge of a stairwell or allow their momentum to throw them over the central railing. A fall to the Cradle's ground floor isn't enough to kill an Overseer turns out, but it will injure. Beginning your journey battered is merely an added misfortune.

The Castle Constructs

When Overseers leave the Gilded Cradle, they find they're trapped within an abandoned castle. While exploring they find no other living creatures other than fellow Overseers. Throughout the halls and rooms of the castle rest Constructs. These figures are shells of either iron or brass, with a variety of gargoyle-like appearances. They stand with their wings tucked around their bodies. Littered throughout the location, their placements can often clue in to their former duties as the Castle attendants. These Constructs remain completely inert until two Overseers of the same Pact pass by. Iron Constructs react to pairs of Moon Pact members, while Brass Constructs come alive near pairs of Sun Pact members. When awakened, they unfurl and stand to a height ranging from around three-to-six foot tall. The Constructs promptly begin to carry out butler-like duties, as if they were long ago set to a schedule of operation. When presented with a task they can no longer seem to accomplish, they merely pantomime the action before moving onward. (These NPCs can be player controlled and are non-hostile unless attacked first.)

Locked In

CW: Survival themes, food insecurity, exchanging sex for goods and services.

The Kitchen

The kitchen of Absentia is vast, meant to accommodate for a castle population in the hundreds. Long abandoned, any food reserves have turned to dust or rot. All that remains are a series of strange machines, humming with dull magic. Only operable by the castles resident Constructs, hungry Overseers would be advantaged to activate the inactive Constructs scattered nearby. Once occupying the kitchen, Constructs are more likely to provide a meager serving of food to Overseers who have used magic recently or who hold Influence. (Characters playing this TDM with no canon powers may presume they hold (1) Influence for this and subsequent prompts.)

The Hall of Overseers

To the west of the Gilded Cradle there lies a long, rectangular housing structure, framing a vast courtyard. Rain from the storm overhead patters down constantly. Rooms for Overseers line the open air hallways overlooking the nature within the central outdoor space. At this time, those of the Moon Pact enjoy the lower floors of the indoor sections, with luxurious accommodations. These include private rooms with a fireplace, claw foot baths with clean running water, a variety of furniture, and a plush bed. The upper level indoor rooms are for the Overseers presently in service, the Sun Pact. These rooms are all shared and scarcely furnished. Hammocks and bunk beds are provided to house three or four Overseers per cramped room. These upper location hallways have shared bathroom spaces and no private amenities provided. Overseer names are engraved upon the door frame of their assigned rooms. There is no access given to rooms without this engraving. Overseers need to be invited in to rooms they do not own or share. (Rooms are fully self assigned by Players and can change freely between threads. Pact is likewise self assigned, but should match the room type described above. Moon Pact characters are free to invite Sun Pact characters into their rooms, and visa-versa.)

The Hands that Feed

As Overseers settle in, they find resources are thin and accessible castle space highly limited. There is no exit from the castle at this time. Trying to fly out over the top of Hall of Overseers courtyard results in perpetually being turned around by the Storm until exhausted. Overseers who try to smash windows or break through the architecture find their magic or strength immediately drained. Teleportation leads back to where one attempted to leave from. The trap feels inescapable. This inevitably creates an air of frustration and futility within the awakened Overseer ranks. All there is to do is to make do.

➤Attentive characters will discover quickly that Constructs bring extra rations as room service to those in Power. This at first appears exclusive to the Moon Pact within the Hall of Overseers. The Constructs do this when Overseers have sex in the luxury of the lower floor rooms. However, the Constructs range of understanding is a bit impaired, so fucking in the courtyard also works to call food and drink, regardless of Pact alignment.

➤For those seeking a more direct approach to acquiring extra rations, there's always robbery. The Constructs are not highly fortified. Their routes from the kitchen to the Hall of Overseers are easy enough to intercept. They do resist Overseers who attempt to steal from them, defending the food if attacked. Overseers who damage Constructs find they simply curl back into their wings, where they become both immobile and invulnerable from further damage. They will repair themselves in time and do not... appear... to hold a grudge. The Overseers whose meals were hijacked might, though.

The Courtyard

The courtyard at the center of the Hall of Overseers is a public space with five distinct sections. At the center, there is an ornate fountain that serves as the most reliable, public spot for clean drinking water. The fountain depicts the three Classes, though all of them are partially destroyed. The Ruler has their hands broken off, the Dragon is missing its head, and the pegasus shaped Herald has a hole in its chest. Grimly, the water flows from each of these missing pieces into the pool below. This space is open and visible to all, especially from the higher rooms of the Hall. This central location serves well as a social hub and meet up point for Overseers to congregate, though it is perpetually raining here.

➤Heralds and Dragons experience their first urge to transform within the Courtyard. They are able to resist it, if their willpower is sufficiently high, but the compulsion is strong. Dragons feel a need to shed their skin, to fly and be free. There is not much room for multiple, large dragons to do either of these things. Mind your wings! Heralds begin to feel territorial, wishing to reinvigorate the long dead space. Heralds are able to terraform within the confines of garden planters as they see fit, but they may find them destroyed by Dragons or usurped by other Heralds. Miniature territory disputes may serve as practice for times ahead. Rulers can hear mysterious whispers throughout the Courtyard, but especially nearby the fountain. If they acknowledge these whispers aloud, they will get a response. Those Rulers who listen closely can hear the mocking words "you're not leaving this time."

The other four quadrants surrounding the central fountain are overgrown and wild, contrasting the initially desolate central area. These spaces are each themed to a different season; spring, summer, fall, and winter. Once Overseers enter one of the gated in spaces, the area within appears larger than the outside barrier suggests. The temperature varies wildly between each, though the Storm over head remains consistent. Each contains a singular hideaway which the Constructs will bring food to. These shield Overseers from outside view, but may turn out to be in hot demand. Mind yourselves if trying to sneak into one of these spots for privacy, they may already be taken! (Each hideaway may be customized at player discretion to suit their threads. A single piece of furniture for leisure may be present, like a lounge or hammock. Some ideas for natural spaces would be hidden behind a waterfall, beneath a canopy of trees, a frosty cave, or an alcove hidden by fallen leaves.)

Grief Hath Mates

Class Scenarios

Note: The following prompts are available for all Players, though abilities should always match up with a character's present Class! Class for characters on the TDM can change between threads, but should not change mid-thread. This fully locks down upon acceptance to the game. Characters are presently "unstable" in their Pact and Class assignments, so all threads can remain canon, even if they contradict Pact or Class assigned later on. Any changes made to shared setting environments below are temporary, so feel free to play with destructive and creation powers as specified.

RULERS

➤Rulers who attempt to speak to the Constructs will find they are reacted to in a way the Dragons and Heralds are not. Constructs do not speak back, but they are more attentive towards Rulers regardless of their Influence level. If asked where something is, Constructs will dutifully guide the Ruler to the location in question if it exists. Sometimes, Constructs will open up previously locked doors. None of these lead outside, but they offer some new clues to how the castle once operated in the past. Rulers can open up additional rooms to explore such as a drawing room, a music room, a wine cellar, and a smoking room. These rooms all have basic supplies for their given activity, including aged wine and cigars in the latter two respectively. Rulers with clever tongues or manipulative sensibilities can convince the Constructs to leave them “in charge” of a room. This grants the Ruler a key to the door they can leverage as they please. (Players can play their Ruler as if they hold exclusive control of a room, but this is not imposed TDM-wide. Multiple Rulers can each claim the same type room, no player actually holds full IC/OOC control.)

DRAGONS

➤Dragons are going to be the first to snap under such cramped conditions. Their natural urges are to spread out and fly, not be stuck within a castle. The more volatile Dragons will find their natural instinct is to go Berserk. Berserk mode can be engaged in either their humanoid or Dragon form, though Dragons can only transform at this time within the confines of the Courtyard. If Dragons are causing trouble in the Courtyard, luring or forcing them out of the Courtyard at large forces a Dragon to return to their humanoid form. Getting in fights may not be productive, but it might provide some enrichment to Overseers wishing to challenge each other or keep the peace. (Reminder: Dragons, regardless of form, are especially durable and may prove difficult to subdue! Rulers are best suited to this task, given they have a natural advantage over Dragons. Heralds can make their own attempts, it is simply more risky for them given how fragile they are.) Dragons of more even temperaments can make themselves productive by using relevant elemental magic around the castle. The castle interior is lit only by the dull glow of the sun or moon, which are often dulled by the cloud cover overhead. Providing temperature control or lighting could be a great ease to their own mental state, as well as benefit their fellow Overseers.

HERALDS

➤While cooked rice, dried meat, and pickled vegetables are largely what is being provided, there is a distinct lack of fruit or alcohol coming out of the kitchen. Heralds may find themselves especially desperate for these. Within the courtyard only, they can flex their newly found Class abilities to rapidly influence nature. Heralds may find themselves having vivid daydreams about their favorite fresh fruits from home. These fantasies manifest, growing the imagined fruits from nearby vines, bushes, and trees. This can happen deliberately or entirely by accident. However, due to the imperfect nature of both memory and imagination, these fruits are never fully accurate recreations. The taste and quality of the fruit end up heavily influenced by a Herald’s own subjective experience and are prone to exaggeration. Any fruit from any world is allowed, these simply cannot cause any magical effects. Devious Heralds which imagine poisonous fruits can injure, but not kill fellow Overseers. Such produce can be used to make alcohol by those with the knowledge and wherewithal to do so. Any manner of food is in demand and Heralds have this to provide. Replenishing energy though sex is always an option to help produce more or better resources of this kind.

OOC Info

What happens next?

On the 21st of June, the Pacts will turn over. For the IC duration of the TDM, the Moon Pact are in power. Those assigned to the Sun Pact will start the game off proper as the faction in power. Characters who are accepted into the game will be freed from the confines of the castle. The game will greet new players with a Mingle Event and Network Introduction Post, once all applications are processed. The storm will pull back at the start of July, allowing even further world exploration and Territory claims. Our first plot event will focus on discovering the threat that the Lost Souls of this world can present.

Can I reserve my character before applying?

If you want to claim a character spot in advance of applications opening, our Reserves Page opens on the 10th of June, through to the 15th. This is not required for application, but highly recommended even for original or obscure characters. Reserving provides an instant-pass through 1st month game Activity Check! It also provides Moderation with an idea of incoming player numbers!

How do I apply to join the game?

Head over to our Application Page. These open up on June 15th and close on the 20th. The game officially opens on the 21st of June, barring any unexpected delays.

Is there an OOC space I can discuss potential plans?

Take a look at our Enable-me-Please for OOC discussions and plotting!

(CODE)

Comments

ranni the witch | elden ring | moon + ruler (tenatively)

[deathstealer]

c o f f i n s

[ What was once distant nothingness, the absolute cold amongst stars and a dark, silent moon⸻ turns to grasping hands, pulling and exploring, coaxing and demanding. Fingers clasp around a throat that does not give like flesh, yet nonetheless, breath feels as far and as chill as an impossibility. When Ranni wakes, it is in a glass coffin in a beautiful cathedral. The stained glass windows, the stone arches, they speak of a familiarity to memories many centuries old, but Ranni knows not where she is.

Fortunately, the lid of the coffin moves easily enough to her touch. Outside of its cradle, Ranni observes the high tower, the long hallways thick with haze. To her sight, a tall, broad man with a wolf's head appears in the haze, and then turns away ⸻ Ranni does the same, unwilling to venture into what is clearly unknown magic.

Instead, she turns her attentions to the other people in other coffins.

Rows and rows of strange people, in strange dress, some with strange forms. One seems to be struggling to remove the lid of their coffin, and so, Ranni steps forward. She curls porcelain and metal fingers around the lip of the top, and cracks it open, lifting it. The person within is treated to the view of a woman with pale blue skin and an enormous witch hat, one eye glowing lunar-blue, the other side of her face conjoined with a ghostly half, like her spirit couldn't fully fit within the five foot tall puppet she inhabits. The silver collar around her throat looks oddly fitting, a pale hue to match her colouring. ]

Arise, and take stock, fair stranger;
thy dawn has awoken in an unfamiliar realm.

[ With one hand still holding the lid open, she offers another hand. This is easy enough for her; she has four of them. ]

Wilt thee lay abed all day?
Or is thine spirit made of fire and ash,
not the tepid, stagnant water of fear?

c o u r t y a r d

[ It has been some time since Ranni has been able to explore lands unknown to her, and she takes to it with the dutiful eagerness of an academic. She finds herself in the courtyard outside the cathedral. The fountain statue at the heart of it is noted carefully, though Ranni's eye lingers on the dragon, a familiar enough sight for her.

As always, she is drawn most toward the cold and the dark; she gravitates toward the winter section, stepping inside with nary a flinch at the temperature.

There, among the drifting snow, Ranni looks upward toward the stormy sky. The land within is bigger than the exterior suggested; obviously magic, a type that Ranni has studied though does not specialize in. She stays there for some time, contemplating this new realm she has been dragged into, one hand impatiently probing the collar about her throat. Snow gathers on the brim of her hat, the thick fur of her cloak, and yet, should anybody approach, they will notice that Ranni herself seems to put out an even more intense cold than their winter surroundings.

She hears whispers on the wind, and when she turns her attention to them, they only mock her and tell her she won't be getting away. Hmph. Useless.

When another approaches, Ranni doesn't move, still staring out into the distance. One pair of hands is steepled thoughtfully before her, the other pair loosely clasped over her stomach. ]

Were thee also drawn to the cold and the dark?
Or art thou more hopeful than I,
seeking a spark of warmth in a frozen land?

g r i e f

[ Of course, it does not take Ranni long before she starts pushing the boundaries of what is allowed, and attempting to pry into what is hidden from her.

The constructs made of Iron prove to be amenable to her instruction, and at her request, one of them opens a locked doorway within the cathedral. Ranni debates pressing the construct for the key for permanent access ⸻ or to try it on other doors ⸻ but she refrains for the moment. As a creature many years old, Ranni is patient, and decides not to push her luck just yet. For now, she will observe, and study.

The door swings open to reveal what can only be a music room; thick rugs line the stone floor, a fireplace crackles merrily off to the side, and instruments are hung on the wall and stored on shelves. Ranni, having no particular affinity to making music, largely dismisses it.

Still, she turns to the other person that is observing the room with her, as they stand just outside of the doorway. ]

If thee have a mind to be curious,
I'm certain the construct will allow thee inside.
As for myself,
there are other rooms
that may yet prove more useful.

[ There's a certain dark humor in her words that she doesn't explain, though her eyes, both porcelain and spectral, glimmer with amusement, like they are in on some shared joke. ]

Should thee like to attend to me,
I would not mind the company.

ooc / wildcard

[ info + permissions + emp ad. ranni is f/f if monogamous, ota if poly ⸻ and almost certainly will be poly in this game. she is moon pact, I haven't decided if she'll be a ruler or a herald yet, though for this tdm I'm going with ruler. I'm happy to write more specific prompts for people if need be, otherwise all starters are ota! hit me up on the emp ad for anything else :D ]

Courtyard

[spacetogrow]

[Ilphyl's clothing wasn't suited for the weather, and they had... temporarily misplaced... their shoes. it's probably not wise to expend magic to protect themselves from the chill, but they wanted to explore. Being trapped has them feeling itchy and like their skin is slightly too small, and the new Herald instincts are exasperating that.

[So being able to go everywhere they are allowed is easing it, even if it means burning spells to make the cold feel chilly rather than freezing.]

Perhaps, more of the hope. But winter is an important part of the world on its own, not just something to get through until spring arrives.

[The Underdark didn't have seasons, but it means they were ground into Ilphyl's training as a druid, rather than childhood memories of living on stored food until the first greens of spring could be found.]

[They don't know what the nature of the woman is -- obviously her body is a construct, but she's not the same as the ones serving the castle, which feel more like they were crafted for a task, rather than crafted as a person. But that can be a mystery for later. Enjoying the snow is nice for now.]

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni makes a thoughtful noise, holding one hand out to catch a snowflake. It doesn't melt in her palm, but lands solidly and grows, the ice spiderwebbing out across the tiny fractures in her porcelain exterior. ]

Indeed.
A time of contemplation for some;
for others, of gathered family and warm shelter.

[ There must be something significant about the seasons, to have such representations in this courtyard. The magic that governs and nurtures this place must be impressive indeed, to house such opposing forces so closely together.

Ranni casts a sideways glance at the person next to them. Their skin is a dark grey like the inhabitants of Nokron, though their accent is unfamiliar. So many people from so many different realms; Ranni has yet to meet any other from her own home, and she suspects this person too must be from elsewhere. Her gaze dips down to their clothing, expression impassive. ]

Thou'rt ill-clothed for the cold.

[spacetogrow]

[Ilphyl nods]

It was spring where I was, and I don't have any spare clothing here. Yet. So, I make do with magic.

[They notice the snowflake as well. It makes sense -- no body heat means the snow doesn't melt, but the growing ice suggests the woman has some affinity with cold.]

Are you going to be comfortable in the rest of the castle? In the warmth?

Grief

[bloodypath]

[And watch from a wary distance Hubert does, his expression stoic and hands tucked easily behind his back. The only non-human trait he bears at the moment is the serpentine slits his pupils have formed into.]

I do have a mind to be curious, yes, but not about the room. Quite a way you have with the golems. They're quite partial to you. [His head tilts subtly to one side. How strange, this one. Unlike anything he's ever seen.] Perhaps because you resemble them?

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni has seen a fair few of the people here displaying traits other than strictly, purely human ⸻ however, due to the nature of the Lands Between that she calls her home, it has not yet occurred to her to question these things as unusual. Skin discolouration, feathers, unusual limbs, serpentine eyes; these are all perfectly normal where she is from, even somewhat tame by comparison.

Still, she takes mild note of these things, just in case, in the same way she takes note of his formal dress and stiff bearing. ]

Aye, perhaps;
that, or it is mine silver tongue
working its subtle magic.

[ A joke, sort of. Ranni would not call herself skilled in the art of subtle manipulation. No, she is far too blunt for that. Still, she knows well that a formal demeanor and polite question can go far in any world.

She casts her gaze back to the construct that is still waiting nearby, attentive. Ranni reaches up to lay a porcelain hand on its gargoyle-like snout, tilting its head to examine it. For its own part, it seems content enough to be examined, having been given no other immediate orders. ]

Useful, are they not?
How very thoughtful of our captives
to have provided creatures to serve.

[bloodypath]

[There is something deeply unsettling about this being. Her hand clicks against the metal of the construct, and Hubert isn't sure if the phantom face emerging from the painted one is more off-putting than the unnatural mechanical nature.]

Useful is an understatement. To my knowledge, these golems are the only way to access food. [His eyes linger on Ranni, "if you even require food" hanging silently between his words.] I imagine they'll become quite popular if this situation drags on.

It's only a matter of time before someone attempts to monopolize them over such meager servings. [And he worries that if it extends beyond that, cannibalism could be a danger if no one finds their way out of this damned place.]

[deathstealer]

Truly?
I had not taken note.

[ That actually catches Ranni by surprise, though she knows why she hadn't taken note of it ⸻ she had likely heard the word food and had tuned right out, dismissing it as irrelevant. She needs no such thing, and indeed, could not digest it even if she wanted to.

Her fingertips trace a fascinated path over the construct's features, attempting to discern its method of engineering. As she does, she turns a frank gaze to the man with her. ]

Shall I command this one to find thee nourishment?
Thou'rt astute in thy assumption:
given a resource, inevitably a hungry soul will try to monopolize it.
For want of power, perhaps,
or merely a fear of going without.

[bloodypath]

[Hubert falls pensively quiet. He had no reason to trust... her? Whatever this golem-like creature was? But if she gave the command where he could hear, and the golem served as the intermediary, Hubert saw no way for her to sabotage the food.]

[He lets out a breath slightly to short to be a proper sigh.]

It would be foolish to deny such an offer. There's no telling whether the golem's resources are limited or how long they will continue to deliver food. Very well, if commanding them is not a detriment to you.

[deathstealer]

Come, then.
Let us observe these constructs at work,
and hope to find resources aplenty.

[ Truth be told, Ranni is feeling⸻ somewhat adrift. For centuries in life she had had a mission to work toward, a dark path that fate had laid out before her. Then, she accomplished that, to drift among the stars as the new god of the Lands Between, distant and impartial. Now? Now she has been accosted and shoved into a new realm with no purpose, no fate, and nothing to do other than to explore this mystery.

Helping to feed one man is far from the sort of thing she'd usually consider, but here, it gives her something to do, at least. Maybe she can start small. It has been eons since she has done so.

So she commands the construct to lead us toward where your food stocks are held, and it starts doing exactly that. Ranni glances at the man with the serpentine eyes, and holds out both right hands in an after you gesture. She follows at a sedate pace, observing with interest the hallways of the castle as they walk through it. ]

Introductions are in order, I do suppose.
You may know me as Ranni;
a humble witch of no renown.

courtyard

[hexer]

[The Courtyard is beautiful. Perhaps it is because Hina is so far from the forests she once calls home that the outside beckons her like a moth to a flame; she's not entirely sure what it is, but it feels peaceful, almost. It's something that puts Hina at ease as she floats about, looking more like a floating porcelain doll than anything resembling human or goddess. Not that such a title means anything here, but...

The winter land catches her interest easily, strangely cool and grounding--Hina finds herself landing, letting her old and worn out boots crunch against the snow in a gesture that feels far more human than it has any right to, as Hina walks along and catches the glimpse of someone near, and she considers turning back to let them have their privacy.

But Ranni speaks, and Hina has no intention of being rude; her chuckle is soft as she makes her way to her, bowing her head.]

If I must choose of the two, it is something closer to the latter. [Hina reaches out with one of her hands, catching a few drifting snowflakes in her palm.] The cold has always brought with it a sense of reprieve, though much of that comes from the things awaiting one in their home. But I must confess, I find it quite a delight that an area like this exists, so different to where we were. I cannot help but find awe in it.

[Even several hundred years old, such simple gestures are fascinating to her. Hina turns to Ranni quizzically after.]

Ah, do forgive me for rambling! What of yourself? You seem to be almost at home here, from what I observe.

[deathstealer]

Indeed; the cold and the dark
have been my dearest companions
for as far as mine memory stretcheth.

[ Mirroring her action, Ranni holds out a hand, palm up, letting a snowflake land there. Far from melting, it expands, sprawling out to nestle in the cracks of her porcelain exterior. ]

E'er do I wish that this cathedral
were clad in these clothes of snow⸻
alas, I shall make do with its cozy warmth.

[ She draws her hand back, her upper pair steepling thoughtfully, her lower pair smoothing out a rumple in her furred cloak. Ranni's attention turns to her companion, gaze watchful. ]

'tis intriguing magic indeed,
to have captured the seasons fair in these gated spaces.
Whatever soul brought us here
must be strong and keen of mind.
A chilling thought.

[hexer]

[Hina listens to Ranni as she speaks, taking in every word. How strange it is. How nostalgic, too, because she can absolutely understand the gist of it at least. To her, winter is home in the same way that the ice fairies dance upon the frozen lake with pure, unfiltered joy; it's a strange feeling for Hina, who's days have merely blended into one another for so long.

What a wonderful thing. What an intriguing thing, truthfully.]

Indeed. I find I cannot disagree with you; it would take a brilliant mind and even more brilliant and powerful magic to be able to conjure up such areas for us. To what end, I am not sure myself.

With everything else we're being subjected to, however, this almost feels like a rare reprieve, rather than another means of driving us mad.

[...]

May I ask what sort of place you come from, miss? You seem to be an interesting person; I know not if talking may help you take your mind off of this place, but...are you a spirit of winter, perhaps?

[Hina noticed that snowflake that has almost cozily sprawled into the porcelain skin of this woman; she isn't human, clearly, but Hina asks more for curiosity's sake than anything.]

[deathstealer]

[ The question about her identity has Ranni pausing, an impassive gaze falling upon the woman with whom she speaks. Thus far, Ranni has refrained from properly introducing herself; it suits her purposes to be an unknown entity here, to be able to fade into the background and not draw attention. Thus, she is not inclined to introduce herself as god and princess. ]

I am naught more than a witch of no renown;
one of my childhood teachers was a snowy crone,
and thus, I was gifted a love for the cold and the dark.
You may call me Ranni.

[ Really, she's kind of joking. Calling herself a witch of no renown, most people have been easily able to see through that lie. If it leads to speculation, Ranni cares not. ]

Mine home is called the Lands Between,
a realm of golden order and stagnant decay,
of dragons and magic and blight.

[ Oh, she could go on for so much longer. The Lands Between are perhaps the thing that Ranni loves most in all this world, so much so that she was willing to condemn herself for them. She has not seen that land in an age, and she misses it dearly. Ranni dwells on that thought for only a moment, turning a thoughtful gaze to the woman across from her, seemingly perfectly comfortable in the snow. Her manner of dress is unusual to Ranni's eyes, but that is strangely common in this castle ⸻ largely, Ranni has just been despairing at how few people wear armour.]

And thyself?
Thou'rt clad strangely to mine eye.

[hexer]

[A witch! ...Well, this one's certainly a lot nicer than the little thief who made her way up the mountain, to say the least, but Hina's eyes seem to light up in recognition of the concept at least. It makes sense to her.]

A witch's disciple...no, to merely call you that would likely undersell your abilities. I've at least seen quite a few witches in my time, and they tend to be rather interesting people regardless of their notoriety; I am delighted to meet you, Ranni! Though I wish the circumstances were better; you may call me Hina.

[Hina is absolutely taking the joke seriously, but then again, she'd probably believe just about anything at this point. Gullible may not be her middle name, but it's somewhere in the family tree...

Of course, her talk about the place she hails from gets her eyes to sparkle--it's recognizeable, but the question is turned back to her and Hina chuckles.]

Well--it is unfortunately irrelevant here, given that most of my abilities seem to have vanished...but I am actually a gatherer of misfortune; it is my job to take the misfortune of the humans, or anyone else I come across and pass them onto the gods, you see. To make the path clearer and more fortunate for all who live. It is something I'm sad I cannot do for others here...

But I confess, the place you speak of...it sounds much like the home I hail from, myself! We've all sorts of youkai and other creatures within Gensokyo; it's a place where those forgotten by the world at large can thrive, you see. It is a wondrous place, though quite dangerous as well.

Courtyard

[achromotrichia]

[ Standing barefoot in the snow, seemingly with no regard for her own health... Ariane doesn't shiver, even whilst dressed in that simple white nightgown, a charcoal piece and a canvas in hand.

She isn't looking at the sky. She's looking at one of the trees, the way its needles form a halo around the storm, starch and frost portrayed with utmost care.

It's so mundane, and yet... She stays there, unwavering, sketching out the edges carefully.

A shackle lies on her right wrist.

She pays no mind to the whispers, as though she never heard them to begin with. ]

... Even in the desolate cold... No. [ She pauses, determined. ] Because of the cold and the darkness, we can find new beauty that hasn't been observed before.

I am trying to crudely taxidermy the shapes of these leaves, the sky.

I am just being selfish.

[deathstealer]

In what world is a study of the sciences
something to be called vain and selfish?

[ Ranni's gaze falls to the charcoal etching, idly studying the replica of the tree's needle-like leaves, the way the frost is so delicately captured. A fine artist, then, even if she is ill-clothed for the weather. Still, it does not seem to bother her, so Ranni makes no mention of it. She, too, is barefoot and shift-clad, though her great furred cloak lends her the semblance of warmth.

The notion that there is beauty to be found in the cold and the dark... yes, Ranni very much agrees. It is not a notion held by many, though.

Careful not to disturb the particular branch the woman is studying, Ranni reaches up and plucks a few green needles from another branch, pinched between porcelain fingers as she brings them up to study them. ]

Of course,
one might say 'tis an oddity to be so captured by
in this realm that we have been spirited to.
Thee gaze at not the statues nor the constructs
nor thy fellow captive, but at trees.

[achromotrichia]

The sciences, huh...

[ Ariane smiles down at the canvas, expression wistful and gentle, careful to not smudge her work. She even tilts the canvas somewhat, allowing Ranni a better view, catching too the pinecones underneath the needles.

She watches Ranni, blinking slowly and owlishly, as though intent to remember each movement carefully. Watching the greenery between her fingers, entranced...

Her words, too, are beautiful. She was right to retreat to this little piece of their world, sighing with palpable exhilaration and watching the warm air condense into white steam. ]

It wasn't a matter of disinterest. [ She admits, closing her eyes. ] I just wanted something that felt like home.

[ Leng. That's where she truly felt at home. Maybe, if she hadn't gone on the Penrose...

But there's no point in thinking that, now. ]

I lived with my mother in a Radio station, in a planet with weather like this. [ She says this, soft, voice small but fierce in the wind. ] It makes me nostalgic, but at the same time...

I think I am a little less homesick.

[ ...-- ----- ----- ----- / -.-. -.-- -.-. .-.. . ... / .. / -- .. ... ... / -.-- --- ..- ]

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni says ah with great meaning, understanding.

She, too, could be accused of suffering homesickness sometimes. The manor that she grew up in, the life of a scholar and a royal. Her mother and her brothers, before they were each corrupted in their own way. Back when she was capable of being a creature of sunlight and warmth, of enjoying the softness of fresh baked bread and the tart crispness of wine.

Drifting among the dark stars, she had felt homesick for... well, everything. The solidity of earth underfoot. The warmth of emotion, and faith in those she loved. Light, and certainty.

Some of the words this woman says are unfamiliar to her: radio, in particular. Ranni grasps the concept of a planet, but not the notion of speaking as though they are places to be traveled to. But that matters not; Ranni understands her meaning nonetheless. ]

'tis a sadness unique to those ensouled:
to have longing for a home, and belonging.
A privilege, and a loss, too.

[ She drops the pine needles to the snowy ground, dusting her hands off, though frost continues to gather in the pockmarks and cracks of her hands. ]

In any case, your study of the trees
may yet prove to be useful.
We must catalogue everything about this place,
and in this,
we may yet find knowledge.

[achromotrichia]

[ Ariane's eyes are affixed on Ranni's entire being. She can't read minds, but it's as though she understands her to some extend, even if her words are slower to come.

Eyes flicking to the canvas, she wonders: is this really as productive as Ranni puts it? She's not the power-hungry sort, nor does she hurry in "returning" to where she came from: knowledge is good, but she's spent so long in that cryogenic pod that she's curious about other things, about trying to live again.

Is she good at it? Absolutely not. But it beats only getting by. Only surviving.

Closing her eyes, before looking at Ranni's eyes, she... ]

A radio is technology which communicate through radio waves. [ She explains, curtly, before pointing at her own fogging breath. ] You can input a signal, and radios will pick it up and play it.

Like lighting fire, and your eyes being able to watch the smoke.

[ It's the simplest way she can put it to someone foreign to the technologies from back home. ]

A loss? [ She asks, prodding. It's not that Ariane disagrees: She just wants to make sure she's understood her sentiment correctly. ] What do you mean?

[ A message is only worthwhile as far as you can understand it. Were the curtains truly blue, or is it a stand-in for some other, deeper meaning? ]

I'll leave the taxonomy to the scientists among our midst. [ Ariane relays, smiling, a dry thing. ] My curiosity isn't strictly speaking, academic. ... Sciences and technology was both terrifying yet stagnant, back from where I come from. Information is important... yet expensive, and dangerous.

coffins

[stripperripper]

[Witches' parties, living statues, haunting spirits, everything supernatural-- it's all dressing to cloak the cold truth of humanity's capability for cruelty. The world Tuberose comes from is terribly simple in that way, so he puppeteers the strings of obscurantism and "impossibility" with his work. He considers it part of the art, in its own way, to conclude the thrill of a life snuffed out.

None of his ingenuity in the method of his murdering or staging of a crime scene could come close to the wonder of Ranni existing just as she is. Thus, he concludes he must be dreaming. How kind of his subconscious to shift away from the ordeal of strangulation to this lovely sight.]

Chionodoxa. ["glory-of-the-snow"

The awe in his hushed tone is the only indication of emotion hidden by the mask. Only his gaze is visible, taking in every otherworldly detail about the woman while her words fall on deaf ears. A second more passes before he ensnares the wrist of her offered hand and tugs; in a swift flurry of motion, Tuberose rises only to drag her into the coffin and set her upon his lap. The lanky arm that hooked around Ranni's waist dives beneath the fur cloak, simultaneously brace her back while fingertips map out the shape of her shoulder through fabric. Tuberose wonders if he'll discover the joint where scar tissue and prosthetic meet? His unyielding touch is like that of a greedy lover...and of someone who hauls bodies unperturbed for a living.

The eccentric energy cools as quickly as it overtook him when Tuberose cups her cheek in his palm. Her skin is too cool to the touch and far less supple than he wants it to be. You can't bleed this one.]

Ah.

[He straightens up while leaning back, the glint of excitement visibly dying in his eyes as he does so. Excuses, apologies, explanations-- he fails to conjure up any with such a drastic mental shift.]

You surprised me.

[deathstealer]

[ Ranni has not truly been in a fight for⸻ many centuries, she thinks. The last time she felt blood on her hands was not long before she departed the mortal realm for the stars above, and the Two Fingers had hardly fought back as she had slain it. Thus, she is entirely unprepared for being grabbed.

This masked man's hands are far too familiar, and yet, they seem to be searching for something. Ranni lands on his lap in a rumpled pile of dress and fur, hat knocked askew. One of his hands finds where her metal interior has been bared due to extensive damage to her exterior porcelain, the other finds her cheek, and...

Something fascinating happens. He seems less excited, all of a sudden.

Ah. Ranni can guess why. She knows what look meant; she has seen it in the eye of many a hunter and ready killer. She has seen it in Blaidd's eyes when she sends him off for a hunt, eager for the smell of blood in the wind.

She doesn't move out of his lap. Instead, she reaches down and takes his chin between finger and thumb beneath his mask, grasp firm and ice cold. The look in her eyes, both spectral and porcelain, is uncomprimising. ]

Thou'rt ascertained I am no easy prey, yes?
Stow thy bloodlust,
and ready thy wit instead.
Thou hast been taken captive⸻
this, I declare, demands your attention more.

[stripperripper]

[The ghostly form speaking to him and the physical command in touch alone has him dazzled still. She may not be of flesh and blood, but he savors the attitude. It's the kind he'd like to put a few wrinkles in, just like how he continues to press into her back, sliding lower to pluck at whatever ties he can find with blind-yet-practiced hands. Oh so nonchalant as Tuberose meets Ranni's gaze with devilish obstinacy. The mask shifts as his cheeks raise with the movement of a concealed smirk. She already demands too much of him. With a feigned, half-hearted sigh:]

Oh, must I be put to work so soon? Here sits before me a dream to revel in.

[The unsatisfied bloodlust has given way to pure curiosity. Like a boy given a new toy, ready to explore all its possible secrets. It's only been a short period since waking, and he's immediately aware of the missing tools that rarely leave his person. His more impulsive side would have made a clean cut down the front of her dress with golden scissors for easier access. (And Tuberose would lament later if he found any merit to the garment itself.) It's the same part of him that poses the idea of closing the lid on both of them to trap her thoroughly.

...He resists the temptation. After all, Tuberose's temper flits between bouts of laziness when not focused on a mission. So he settles for admiring Ranni with unsolicited intimacy-- stroking porcelain skin in his travels to outline the shell of an ear and along the nape of her neck. It's a leisurely effort compared to the earlier manhandling, and there's a half-hearted attempt to coax the overbearing furs away from the doll's small frame.

How much can he push the boundary? How many inches will she give? Tuberose is curious.]

[deathstealer]

If it is work you seek,
I would be glad to use thy labour.

[ Thus far, Ranni has been fairly mild-mannered toward those she greets. She has encountered no threat here, and thus, she has presented her more agreeable side ⸻ distant and enigmatic, but nonetheless polite enough.

Here, her ire is being raised. He is amusing enough, however, so she will be gentle.

One of her hands continues to grip the man's chin. Two of her other hands find his and pry them away from her body, her porcelain grip around his wrists ice-cold and as hard as iron. These, she pins beside his head, as her grip tightens until it creaks around his chin, flesh going bloodless under her touch. ]

You presume,
and sully the name
of Ranni the Witch.
Such liberties, I have not granted thee.

[ For a long moment, Ranni is tempted to tear his mask off. A motion to humiliate, and to render vulnerable. But no⸻ she will not go that far. For all she knows, she would be committing some grave cultural sin by doing so. However, she can interrogate him. Instead, she says, voice acid: ]

Look around thyself,
and observe.
Thou'rt a stranger in a strange land,
and I, merely scenery.
Dost thou feel any physical change,
or magical malady?

[stripperripper]

[Oh. It's been some time since he allowed a woman to restrain him, nevermind the fact that she does indeed have the power to pin him in place. There's more strength in that tiny frame of hers than expected. How lovely... Any sane man would cringe at the merciless pinch that keeps his face stilled for her inquiry. However, Tuberose doesn't put up a struggle. In fact, he's quite pleased that Ranni holds him there rather than flee the scene. It means playtime isn't over. And, to her credit, he does begin to process external information beyond the witch's form: the smell is unmistakable.]

Did you know? Lavender, while sought for its soothing properties, may be interpreted as a symbol of devotion when given.

[Lackadaisical to spite her biting command, the lack of distance between them allows easy tracking of Tuberose's eye movements. His gaze, which had been fixated on her, traces the curved architecture of the roof far above them-- a church or cathedral? The air does not have the quality he would expect from being underground, nor does he expect the intricate metal and glasswork of his confines to be deprived of daylight to bring the pieces to true brilliance in its glow.

As for changes within himself? The masked man scans Ranni for any symbolism of the Ulliel's spider emblem. The crushing force of her extra hands on him is the most grounding element to wave away the idea that this is all a drug-induced hallucination while he's imprisoned in the depths of the Great Family's pharmaceutical lab.]

There is nothing wrong with me. [He tries to not chuckle at his own words while making an effort to emote a dramatic shrug and shaking his head.] Although it appears that I am missing my tools. In truth, I do not hail from a place where magic is found beyond the pages of books or spectacle of the theater.

[But not her. She is the definition of magic, so she could never be mere scenery in his eyes. It's a truth he doesn't mind using as bait.]

Perhaps that is why I am drawn to you with such zealous fascination. Like an insect beckoned by a lone flower in a desolate field of withered stalks. From my lacking perspective, you are divinity itself come to raise me from a tormented slumber.