⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 4

[ringleaders]

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 22nd - 31st, 2017
Where: In Portland, for the last time.
What: The seasons change as the Winter Court seizes a surprise victory, claiming both the Tree of Life's pendant and the blood catalyst needed to take control of the Severing Ritual. Meanwhile, interdimensional problems are about to get more weird. Check out the conflict results for the attack on the Circle as well as the Beast's attack on the Summer Court here.
Warnings: Individually marked!

DAYS OF WINTER↴ As the end of October nears, so does the grasp of winter. On the night of the 22nd, it will freeze overnight, and the temperature will drop for the following days. As the night grow long, world-wide magic slowly reaches it apex, set to reach it on the night of Halloween. With so many factors at play, knowing what to do with that moment of power may be a challenge. ► FULL CIRCLE: The Angels succeed in their planned attack on the Circle, managing to get to the living quarters of the Council members with the help of Ashleigh Mischief. The plan goes without much resistance from the mages or from the demons attempting to claim the ritual object for their own. Of course, when the fae make a surprise attack on the Angels after they flee the scene, it has the surprise result of the Winter Court ended up with the pendant in their talons. Threads for this attack can be done in this log. If you need mod direction at all, let us know, but otherwise feel free to NPC demons, angels, or random Circle members as you require. ► THE QUEEN'S GARDEN: Realizing that the Rose Queen is distracted with attempting to claim the pendant, the Beast will summon her co-conspirators to raid the Queen's gardens. The ultimate plan seems to be to get the Beast far enough into the gardens to kill the Queen, while also rescuing as many changelings as possible along the way. As it turns out, this doesn't go well. While they do manage to penetrate the gardens with Childermass's help, the Rose Queen, Ignatius, and Nightshade happen to all be there. Seriously outnumbered, even by the Beast's terms, it will take everything the group has to just make it out alive, sustaining heavy injuries as they go. In the end they will manage to rescue Greg universe and four additional changelings that were imprisoned there, but any damage done to the Summer Court itself will be negligible. Threads for this can also be played out here! ► REFLECTIONS: As the ritual draws closer, the line between this reality and the one you came from will also be becoming less clear. Regaining memories is not required, but it will naturally become easier to occur, especially if you're already started receiving them. It's a good time to start making connections, while you still have the chance. ► THE SEVERING: One way or another, the Severing is going to make an impact on both this world and the lives of those trapped inside of it. The Angels are going to be making an attempt to interrupt the Winter Court's ritual, as will the Summer Court and Anath's forces. Whoever comes up on top will be the ones to decide what to be done with it. Yet, with news that the Severing continuing could cause irreversible damage to the planet's spirit, it could feel like there are no perfect options. There will be an event header put up for this by the mods closer to the end of July. (NOTE: canon powers will returning while the ritual is in progress, so keep that in mind for planning - both sets of powers will be active.)

Comments

Papyrus

[spaghettimonster]

► FULL CIRCLE - for Sans

After more than a week, there's familiar patterns to the noises he can make out through the closed door and walls. Occasional muffled conversations, occasional footsteps, sometimes a distant phone. Today, that pattern breaks. There's outright yelling, and what seems like explosions.

Papyrus listens as carefully as he can for sounds of somebody in the hallway, and eventually starts calling out in hope of drawing someone to his cell.

"HEY! What's going on? Is the building burning down or something??"


► REFLECTIONS - OTA

Between the various vivid dreams, having almost nothing else to occupy himself with, and the astonishingly familiar face of his rescuer (basically accidental rescuer, but results count)... it's clear to Papyrus that he's remembering things from another life, and that he's not alone in this.

He takes a note from the book of whoever ran the animal fair, designs and prints out a poster to hang up all around the usual haunts he remembers seeing other familiar people in; the cat cafe, the various parks, the college. Even the woods where the fair had been held, just in case.

DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS SKELETON??

(It's a photo manip of a muscular figure with a hand-drawn skull and several pairs of sunglasses added.)

PLEASE CALL (727) 555 - 9787 !!
WE NEED TO TALK!

► WILDCARD - OTA

[If you've got another thought in mind, give it a shot or hit me up via plurk/pm to let me give it a thumbs up]

[osteothropy]

This is actually easier than Sans was expecting, thanks to what was apparently some kind of internal corruption in the Circle - some of the other angels are managing to make a bee line straight for those private chambers, which means that Sans is working on scouting the periphery. Which also means he has some time to snoop around.

Which, he does! The Circle obviously has some secrets they've been keeping, and most of the time a Circle HQ would be off limits, even to an angel. No harm in a little bit of property damage between friends, right? He knows there were going after a ton of randos in the last few weeks, and so when he hears some cries for help and comes across some warded prison cells he can't help but be curious, and at least a bit sympathetic.

He swoops towards the door, and deftly cuts it off its hinges with a swipe of his angelic scythe. As the metal door falls into the hallway, the angel is left floating on the other side, staring in bewilderment at the familiar figure inside.

"...Seriously?" he asks.

[spaghettimonster]

Papyrus jumps away from the door as it moves, watching it neatly fall to the ground, sliced out of the wall like it's nothing. So smooth! He's been imagining that kind of thing happening for a week, and all the glaring in the world did nothing!

And the person responsible... He knows that face. With startling, double-layered familiarity.

"Hey! Sans!" He exclaims, delighted despite the disapproval radiating off the skeleton -- the angel,
skeleton... him. "Thanks for helping a brother out! You were right, I'm really not cut out for this demonic deals business."

[osteothropy]

That... was not the kind of reaction he was expecting. Sans continues floating vacantly, something nagging at the back of his mind. Feelings of disgust and defensiveness intertwine in a way that makes it hard to tell what he's even reacting too.

"...Convenient how that works, huh," Sans says, pulling back a little. The use of the word 'brother' makes him uncomfortable. "Everything starts seeming like a bad idea when you finally face consequences, right?"

He's still just the same careless jackass as before.

[spaghettimonster]

"Well!" Papyrus blusters, a finger raised as he feels around for a rebuttal.

Nothing comes to mind.

He remembers making all the decisions leading up to this point, feeling justified and vindicated with his cool super powers. The building dread of his family finding out, the sharper shock of an actual angel's disgust. Getting captured, imprisoned, threatened. Realizing that he hadn't prepared for any of this, not really, and that... all he could choose was how to respond to it all.

Dropping his finger and objection at the same time, Papyrus nods sheepishly. "You're not wrong. I've spent time on the inside, now. I'm a changed man."

Especially now that he remembers an idea as terrible as kidnapping and condemning a child to death... and deciding against it, with specific and theoretical children alike. A bone-deep certainty that everyone deserved a chance to change for the better. Like Sans -- like the angel is giving him now.

He steps forward, expecting to walk out around Sans' side. The wards are still active, and they respond.

[osteothropy]

As Papyrus is inevitably and violently repelled from the edge of the warding circle, Sans actually puts a hand to his face in exasperated dismay. He doesn't know why he's so invested in this bozo behaviour, but it's like he can't look away. He's just so... frustrated by it.

By how people only learn when it's convenient for them. Sans isn't an angel of second chances, he's an angel of death - and this seems like it would be a fitting end for a warlock of unchecked arrogance.

It wasn't in a psychopomp's nature to save lives or to take them away.

Sans shifts his wings as if he's about ready to fly off, leaving Papyrus there to face his destiny. There's no point in meddling with this, and as it is... he can sense that Papyrus remaining here would be a doomed path.

"Maybe you'll know better the next time around."

And he doesn't mean in this life.

[spaghettimonster]

"Ow," Papyrus groans from the far side of the room, pushing himself to a sitting position. "I thought... I thought the wards were in the door? Why did I think that, they're never in the doors..."

To the majority of his memories, it was a nonsensical thought. It takes him a second, but he figures it out. The barrier he remembers staring at for so long, it partly blocked the view of the far side with its pulsating gray light. Whereas here, the air between him and freedom looks like there's nothing there.

By the time he figures out his own cognitive error, Sans is shifting around and talking. If Papyrus understands Sans' implication, he doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around for some sign of runes or differently-colored materials that are the source of the ward.

"There won't be a next time! No more deals with demons. I'll stick to fae, and my own hard work, from here on out."

[osteothropy]

Jesus, can't a guy just acknowledge when you're suggesting that you're going to leave him to die? The self assured and simplistic answer pinches a nerve somewhere in Sans's non-existent nervous system - like something familiar, something that could have been comforting in another situation, but something he just can't tolerate anymore.

"Fae?" Sans snaps, turning back to him, his seven eyes narrowing in some kind of disbelief, the light within them flashing. "Are you kidding me? You think they're better?"

"You made your mistakes," he says, his halo brightening, its patterns spinning. His voice just gets louder and more disturbed as he goes, breaking into territory that feels both old and fresh in its pain. "You can't keep countin' on a second chance anymore. You can't keep acting like it doesn't affect you."

His wings flair wide, and his volume reaches its peak.

"Stop tryin' to pretend like it never happened!"

The moment he finishes speaking, he recoils with a sudden realization. All it once, it strikes him - a feeling like he's just become the biggest hypocrite in the world.

[spaghettimonster]

"What... Sans? What are you talking about, you..."

His voice shakes, and so does the rest of him, a mix of fear and the discomfort with himself over conflicting feelings and memories.

If their talk at the fair was alarming, this is terrifying. The display of the angel's power, sure, but mostly... there's no one else here. No witnesses. And Papyrus is stuck inside this warded circle. If the angel chooses to smite him, he can't even defend himself.

But it's Sans, all those new dream memories sing. Brother, brother, older brother. Someone to trust never to hurt him, someone to count on... (to a degree, with almost playful echoes of resignation and frustration, too. Fear for, but never fear of.)

Dream memories. A wave of cold prickles over him, and that sensation, so unfamiliar in those memories, makes him recognize: dream. He was never cold in those dreams, and isn't that one of the signs that something is made-up? No physical feelings?

"Oh god, oh my god, that was all just dreams. Okay, um... You, what do you want me to say? What do you want from me? You came here, you must have... must have had a reason."

reflections

[tacosgay]

Well, this is the easiest lead Taako's come across so far. He stands and stares at the poster for a moment in amused silence, an eyebrow quirked as he takes in the goofy skeleton image printed on its surface. No, he doesn't recognize that skeleton, but he does remember Tanyuu mentioning the Carnival being host to at least one that could talk and do magic and hold a job, so who knows? Maybe there's more than one, or maybe this is that guy. Either way, he takes out his phone and snaps a photo of the poster, filing it away for later; and then he switches over to the dialer, carefully copying down the number as he strolls towards his apartment, taking the alleys as often as possible to avoid being overheard.

He has no idea if he's going to find out anything of value here, but with things as tense as they've been, it's for the best if he tries to keep a low profile.

He hits the call button, pulling his hood up over his horns and curls alike, waiting to see if anyone picks up.

[spaghettimonster]

A week's worth of dust, a dishwasher that's gone bone-dry (ha), and a trashcan that really should have been hauled out several days ago... Papyrus has his hands full catching up on errands. To say nothing of finding out where Coolbone-the-dog's gotten to.

His phone rings with fortuitous timing to snap him out of worrying for his pet (and possible secret pokemon). He pulls it out, sees an unfamiliar number, and answers before the second ring finishes.

"Hello! Are you calling about the poster??"

[tacosgay]

"Yeah, got it in one," Taako responds, smiling to himself. At least this guy sounds friendly, which puts him a step ahead of anyone else he's had to deal with in this... whatever this is so far. "See, uh... I saw one that said something about a carnival. I don't know what's up with the, uh, skeleton and what have you, but I definitely remember a carnival, and I'm not the only one around here who does. What do you know about it?"

[spaghettimonster]

"Oh," Papyrus' tone drops in enthusiasm and volume for a moment. "I have to admit, I was hoping for bites about the skeleton thing. The carnival stuff is... vaguer. But! That's fine! I'll do what I can to help!"

He balances the phone on his shoulder, heading to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Liquid fortification, his throat gets itchy when he talks too long. And that sensation is even stranger than it used to be. All the while, he keeps chattering into the phone.

"I remember a carnival. Like, a fair, or a circus. Positively bustling with a lot of rides, very inhuman people working there... getting more inhuman as they went? And I'm sure I was there by choice. And... we traveled from world to world? We were fish, and crabs, and various marine miscellany one time."

[tacosgay]

"Well, uh, I did once overhear mention of the carnival having a skeleton who could do magic," he recounts, bracing the phone against his shoulder as he digs for his keys; he has to be careful with his horns, he's learned, when he does this, lest he either damage his phone or his hood. "I never met the guy, but that's a thing that happened, I guess."

He decides not to tack on that the skeleton was also apparently on drugs. That doesn't seem terribly relevant, unless this dude asks specifically about the narcotics intake of the skeleton in question.

"But yeah, that carnival, I definitely remember that. It was run by a fae, right? I worked there too, but, uh, I wasn't there by choice, myself."

[spaghettimonster]

"More than one skeleton! That's why I put a picture. The other one... he's an angel, not a skeleton, but he looks the same. Mostly."

Except for the wings, and the eyes, and the way he's been angry and sad every time Papyrus has seen him. But Sans is at least recognizable.

"Was she a fae? I just called her Ringmaster," Papyrus admits, thinking back. With the context of his life and knowledge here, the water in his glass overflows as he realizes. "Oh my god, she was a fae. We ate her food! And a lot of people got tricked into it!"

[tacosgay]

"... wait, we had more than one magic skeleton walking around?" Taako honestly almost laughs at that; how did he not know that? One would think he would've noticed something like having multiple magic skeletons wandering around the place. Then again, he didn't spend very long in the carnival before being carted off to Portland, so... maybe he simply didn't have enough time.

And then Papyrus launches into his realization about the Ringmaster, and Taako would laugh if he wasn't so exasperated.

"Yeah, I got no fuckin' clue what you're talking about with the food thing, but she was definitely, for sure a fae. I'm actually not sure how you missed that the first time around. She wasn't exactly subtle about the whole thing, what with her magic travelling carnival she ran and all that."

[spaghettimonster]

"Oh my god!" Papyrus repeats even louder, shaking the water off his hand as he scrabbles for the faucet. Some of it spatters the phone, before he shifts it to his other shoulder and begins rambling defensively.

"I know that now! It's incredibly obvious, I can't believe it took me so long to realize!" Taako's remarks featured largely in his realization, one could even say they were key to his connecting the dots. Maybe he'll acknowledge that later. "But. As a skeleton... I never heard of fae! Not this kind, where eating their food or taking their things... makes a magical debt that lets them enslave you. Why aren't they called fairies, I'd know what that meant."

He finishes wiping everything off, genuinely embarrassed on behalf of his skeletal past life. Who makes a deal with a fae without knowing what they are, roams around in a carnival with magic so strong it's making people change shape, without ever asking about how it all works???

...Probably the same sort to make a deal with a demon, except he did a little more prep work than that. He was basically the same guy either way. The other one tried to really, really mean it when he put a positive spin on things, little difference like that, but... it really was him, either way, wasn't it.

[spaghettimonster]

► POSTER REVISIONS - OTA

Within a day, Papyrus goes around to a lot of the posters to add hand-written notes to them.

OR LIVING UNDERGROUND, OR WORKING FOR A MAGICAL CARNIVAL

OR IF YOU'VE SEEN A WHITE DOG THAT ANSWERS TO COOLBONE

He stands around by each of these posters for a few moments, eagerly ready and willing to answer questions about them. A leash and bag of dog treats dangles in hand.

[whattaprick]

Lambert does not, in fact, remember a skeleton.

The big about a magical carnival, however, is going to catch his attention. Actually, he might catch Papyrus's attention in general as well, given that he's sporting some visible cuts and bruises on his face and is generally holding himself with the air of someone trying not to wince with every step. One might wonder exactly what the cat cafe's barista has done to get this jacked up, but.

"What do you know about a magical carnival?" If his voice is a bit sharp and unfriendly, well, it's probably understandable under these circumstances. Probably.

[spaghettimonster]

Papyrus squints at the guy's face, trying to look past the scratches and bruises to try placing him. He's familiar, but it takes a minute. After all, do teachers exist outside of school? Do baristas exist outside of coffee houses?

Apparently they do. And, disappointingly, they leave their friendly demeanor behind when they're not at work.

"I know I worked at one in a past life!" He huffs, not appreciating the tone of voice. "A few weeks ago, I started remembering things. But only recently did I tie enough together... to realize... hmm."

There's still something about this barista guy that's familiar, signs of injury and all. Papyrus tilts his head, and studies Lambert's face more closely.

[whattaprick]

"...Realize what?"

Did you know it's hard to identify what a skeleton might hypothetically look like with flesh on it? Lambert squints back at Papyrus mostly in wary confusion, really, and he shifts under the scrutiny.

[spaghettimonster]

"Oh, that it was memories. Not just dreams with a common thread. But I must turn your question back on you, now! What do you know about a magical carnival?"

It's pretty difficult. Sans and Lambert could start a group, talk about those difficulties. Even Papyrus would attend, he drew a lot of drafts of his skeketonsona before making one that seemed close enough.

[whattaprick]

"Only what other people have told me." It's weird, talking about it with someone he barely knows, but that's just par for the course with everything, here. "I know a lot of people remember working at it -- remember me working at it. It travels between worlds, and it's probably run by some kind of fae."

He folds his arms, eying Papyrus up and down warily, before he waves a hand, gesturing all around them. "And somehow, it's related to all the shit that's been going on around here lately." Now, he wonders, how much does Papyrus know about that?

[spaghettimonster]

"I knew you were double-familiar!" That's a word now, and he flashes a bright and triumphant grin. "It was run by a fae! You're right about that. But what shit do you mean, the weird stuff the Circle people were asking about?"

Realizing that Lambert might not know what the Circle was asking about, he cups his chin and taps on it, thinking aloud. "Demons acting up... The untold number of people originally from another world... With weird properties to their souls...?"

[whattaprick]

At this point, Lambert's had to fill in enough people that the explanation rolls off his tongue easily enough.

"All of that is because they were trying to take control of the Severing -- the spell that's cutting off all the supernatural beings in this world from where they came from." Lambert pauses to adjust his glasses then stops, irritated, when he remembers they'd gotten broken and aren't there anymore. Some reflexes are hard to overcome. Like he didn't experience that brief narrative hurdle, he continues:

"Right now, the Winter Court have all the parts they need for a spell which they're probably going to try and cast on Halloween. Which would be a bad thing, by the way, since in case you didn't know who they are, they're even shittier than the regular fae." A beat. "Also, everyone with a weird soul might or might not be from a different world or something." The idea looks like it makes him deeply uncomfortable. He doesn't like thinking about that part at all.