lostcarnival | ⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 1st - 7th, 2017
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Memories begin returning to the displaced as the fall gets chillier. How the hell did we end up here, again? Also, apparently, the fair is in town.
Warnings: Individually marked!

PORTLAND BY NIGHT↴

Memory regains will come into effect at the beginning of October, to whatever degree you've decided upon, and may be regained at whatever pace you desire from then on. For those with their full carnival memories, it will be like waking up in the body of someone else - for those with half and half, it will be like rapidly recalling sets of memories from a totally different life. Those with full amnesia will simply feel as if this is how it's always been.

Unfortunately for you, memories aren't the only thing you have to deal with. The supernatural community of Portland is bustling all of a sudden - could your presence and these events somehow be related?

► THE OUTER CIRCLE: As of the start of the month, the Portland Circle of Enlightenment will find itself starting to get swarmed with members from other chapters. Most notably, it would seem that a small cabal of top mages from the North American Enlightenment Council will be making their home in Portland's HQ. For anyone but the highest of ranks, the purpose behind their visit will be unclear, but it seems like something is definitely up on a metaphysical level. The Circle will be buzzing with rumours of unique planar activity and threatening omens. It seems that it all started with an unusual flare of activity in the planetary ley-lines, starting approximately a week ago. However, even if you would usually be the type to keep tabs on such things, you will find that you oddly have no memory of observing this phenomenon yourself.

► THE ANIMAL FAIR: Good news, the fair is in town! Or, at least, it would be good news... if this was a regular fair. Instead, what's being observed is a bunch of nearly identical flyers, spread all around Portland - each of which bears only the words "THE ANIMAL FAIR", a seemingly bloody paw-print of unknown origin, and the directions to a vague forested location outside of the city. It's dated for October 7th, and all instances of its posting having been discovered with a scattering of rose petals, crow feathers, and pre-burnt matches laying on the ground around them. Most are taking this to be some kind of bizarre viral marketing campaign, but others may know better.

► THE EARTH SPIRIT: If you have connections to The Pack or any of its many variations, you'll probably hear whispers of something very odd that occurred last week - according to the elders, it sounds as if the Earth Spirit, the magical and spiritual center of the planet, has suddenly taken a wound. It's not clear why or how, but there is a fair bit of concern among spiritual types, as it is werebeast belief and nebulous magical fact that the magical forces within the earth are the source of all magic here, as well as the source of life. While many werebeasts claim to have felt the Spirit succumb, you strangely have no memory of such an event occurring. Though things do feel strange, if you know how to tap into the Spirit yourself.

► THE WAR CRY: Though Anath's rain of terror across North America lasted for the first fifteen years or so of the Severing, most independent demons have had enough time to start taking the arch-demon's relative inactivity for granted. For that first while, the warrior queen had seemed determine to rebuild an army on earth by forcing her scattered brethren into service - only for her to gradually settle down in a fortress somewhere in Texas and dig in her heels. Of course, this was too good to last - it sounds as if she and her demonic legion have begun tearing their way up the west coast, their goals remaining a mystery. Their destination, however, is almost certainly Portland.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"My savior," he breathes. It's never entirely clear how much he's joking when he says those sorts of things to Sans.

He nudges a chair out for Sans with his foot before gratefully accepting the mocha. "The autumn chill's really starting to settle in now."

He wiggles his fingers offhandedly, putting on a goofy mystical voice. "'The weather is changing,' they say. Every year, freaking out about the rain."

As an angel, that doesn't make Sans as uncomfortable as it might in some other theoretical universe where he's not. Mortals looking up to angels is just sort of normal, isn't it? Granted, Sans still doesn't consider himself to be that hot of shit when it comes to angels, but Greg's opinions are also none of his business. He's just here because he wants to be, and because it feels tangentially related enough to his job that it feels excusable.

(Though he's not even sure why he cares about his job anymore - why is that again? It's not like anyone is forcing him to do this. Whatever.)

Sans settles down, popping the straw of the frappe between his teeth in a way that is sort of mysterious. It works, apparently, despite Sans not having a tongue or a visible throat. Angel magic.

"You'd think they'd have something better to worry about than the weather," he comments lightly, leaning back in his chair and folding his luminescent wings. "Speakin' of worry, what's got you cross-referencing during designated nap time?"

Edited (Jk he has teeth) 2017-06-02 22:49 (UTC)

Greg sips at his gifted drink, frowning at the articles he's lined up instead of answering right away.

"Just... a hunch, really."

He scratches at his thinning hair. "I think someone might be visiting town soon, but I dunno who they are yet." He waves a hand over the atlas. "I don't get out of town too often these days, though. Figured there had to be some sort of records of who's out there, but..." He stifles a yawn. This just isn't the sort of thing he's wired for.

Sans's head tilts a little, trying to understand what Greg is talking about. He's already aware of some odd stuff happening out there, but he's not sure how he'd bring an atlas into the picture.

"What kinda someone?" he asks casually. "And why'd they be in an atlas?"

His gut instinct is this is something magical, which makes the idea of that being put to record anywhere like this as unlikely.

Greg frowns, briefly glancing around the library. He's never sure what spaces are too public to get into details. Then again, libraries discourage talking in general, don't they.

"Someone in the same line of business as my boss. I think they're moving in... which means they were somewhere else up to this point, right?" It sounds stupid when he says it out loud like that, but fae can't just pop into this realm anymore.

"So, maybe there're reports of their business going on somewhere else? Not, y'know, outright, but. Just, weird things that sound familiar?" He sighs. "It's kind of a long shot, I know. It'd at least narrow things down if I knew where they were coming from."

Ah. A fae. That would follow.

Sans has been idly wondering about some of this stuff, but not too intensely. It seemed more like something for warrior angels to be dealing with, and he's got enough on his hands without trying to stalk fae, too.

The fact that Greg has been assigned to it is curious, though, because it sort of implies the Rose Queen is at least a little concerned about it. Interesting.

"Looking for fae nests, then?" he says, ultimately less subtly then Greg is being. "Does sound like something people might notice. Their kind of magical corruption tends to be pretty loud in an etheric sense."

He pauses, and then:

"Thought about just going to the event?" It's half a tease. "Says October 7th, right?"

He snorts a little. He's not sure why he tries being subtle while talking with a seven-eyed skeletal angel.

"I'm sure they're hoping for a drop in. Getting invited into fae territory tends to be even scarier, in my experience." He sighs, taking another sip of coffee. "At this rate, boss might have me go in to explore anyway."

He shrugs, tired enough to feel resigned to potential danger. "How about you? There's a lot of weird enery in the air these days. Any of it on your end?"

Well, that forces him to actually think for a second. Has any of it been on his side? Not more than average, he supposes. He didn't even really feel anything like anyone's described. It wasn't a heaven thing, after all.

"Spirits seems kind of restless, I guess," he says with a shrug, a few moments later. Magic and the afterlife are so innately entwined it can hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. "But, I have a super secret informant who is telling me that all this stuff means something big for angels."

His grin becomes lopsided.

"They didn't mention any specifics, of course."

AKA that information is presently totally useless.

Ahhh, of course. Greg gives a little roll of his eyes, grinning. "Isn't that how it always goes. You ever think they do that just to hide they don't know any more than us? Would go a lot easier for everyone if all the cards were put on the table."

Well, in a perfect world where all the factions weren't caught up in their rivalries and fights and politics, sure.

He leans back in his chair. "Well, any problem gets big enough, it ends up pulling you guys into the mess one way or another." He pauses, chewing on his cheek. "Hopefully it doesn't get quite there, this time." Usually he'd apologize, but he's pretty sure Sans would be happy if he had less work to do.

⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

wtf i didn't realize it was my turn

no subject