⇨ DANGEROUS ENCOUNTERS

[ringleaders]

Who: Anyone out in the library.
When: Day 59
Where: The Athenaeum
What: Towards the end of the visit, we are visited by a series of worrisome NPCs, who may or may not be illusions. There will be at least 5 NPC toplevels posted overall, all happening in a similar time period ICly (in rough chronological order), so not everyone needs to be in every thread.
Warnings: Possibility of very real danger to anyone who participates. Remember that Sans has told everyone to travel in groups, so if you aren't, you'll probably get a scolding later.

TURNING THE PAGE↴ As the carnival continues to explore the Athenaeum in the pursuit of more information about the legendary Miracles, the tension is thick with the knowledge that the Summer Court could be in pursuit any day now. On Day 59, a series of threatening encounters will begin manifesting - but are they real, or an illusion?

Comments

[anti_nonsense]

Rita points out the energy forms as soon as she detects them, then leads the group over to meet the two beings, marching with a sense of urgency, as if fearing the idling entities might slip away if they don’t hurry.

That greeting, unsurprisingly, immediately grates on her nerves.

“What do you mean, are we still here!? Don’t you pay any attention to who comes and goes in your realm!?” she snaps.

[whattaprick]

As soon as Rita points out the Scribe and Curator, Lambert picks up the pace. She’s leading, but he won’t be far behind, and he’s there just in time to hear ... that.

Rita beats Lambert to the punch, saying exactly the words that came to his mind. That doesn’t stop the witcher from scowling, though, lips peeling back from his teeth in a snarl that’s more beastlike than a man’s, glancing over at 9S.

“Nines, record this,” he orders shortly, before he steps up beside Rita, addressing the Curator. “Fae from the Summer and Winter Courts have come into your library and attacked our people. Did you know anything about this?”

[npcarnival]

"Of course we know," the Curator says, and it feels like there would be an eye-roll if they had a physical form at the moment. "We were simply hoping that you two would be done by now."

"We were trying to keep out of your way, actually," the Scribe pipes up, momentarily pausing in their writing.

[prazerbutterfly]

On any other given mission of his own leisure he might've stopped walking to take a rest or a nap, but now that he was more goal oriented Tyki kept pace behind the group the entirety of the time. They knew each other better and he allowed himself to remain the odd man out without much thought. Thankfully it was people he knew and could work with.

He's using his Tease to fan out here and there but Rita ultimately spies them first and he's quickening his pace to get closer to further inspect both of them. Before he can even think to probably soul check them he listens to the conversation. Oh, that rubs him the wrong way.

"Of course they did," he replies flatly with a calm tone despite the annoyance hidden behind an exceptional poker face.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya moves closer to Lambert's other side, folding his arms. Their apathy is just as irritating to him, but they won't get anywhere lashing out at the Scribe and Curator. At least everyone else seems to feel the same, even if there's probably visible tenseness from the whole group.

"They have destroyed property of yours and taken our people, so I am afraid we may not be done for a while." His response is only slightly less dull than theirs, held in careful control. "How much control do you have over this library?"

[npcarnival]

Seeing as this is probably going to be a full conversation, the two of them decide to take physical form. The Curator appears as a fairly stern looking rendition of Merlin the Wizard, while the Scribe manifests as a large ginger cat, settling down on top of the book they were just writing in.

Merlin Curator comes forward, looking annoyed.

"You have the whole of the Athenaeum's defenses at your disposal... how can we be blamed for the fact that you will not use them?" they ask, gesturing to the grand interior of the library.

"You were doing so well, and then you just... stopped," the Scribe adds, tilting their head.

[whattaprick]

"Defenses," Lambert echoes, looking around them. It's just books. Lots and lots of books. "You mean the way your books sometimes try to kill us?"

That, admittedly, is probably directly influenced by how most of the stories Lambert's run into seem of the violent kind.

[npcarnival]

The Curator gestures broadly.

"We are only the narrators of this tale. We can give form to your stories, but we can't create them for you," they say. "In the same way you have turned the tides against our works of fiction, you must turn this story against them."

The Curator stops in from of them all, looking down with eyes that denote some degree of sympathy, for the first time recognizing the direness of the situation.

"It is you who must choose... to tell the story where you are victims, or the story where you are victors."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya just kind of stares, dumbstruck at them for a moment. That's a sweet sentiment, he supposes, in literally any other situation.

"This isn't fiction," He grouses, pinching the bridge of his nose. How many problems could he solve if he could just re-write reality like that!

Still, they seem to have enough conviction in the idea that he doubts they have any alternatives. They are, probably, screwed. "Every instance of your 'defense' I have experienced have all been accidents... are you capable of choosing which books to bring into reality more specifically than that? So that we are certain it is..."

He pauses, and then snaps his attention up. "If we write something, can you make it come to life?" Why rely on guesswork if they can make their own traps?

Assuming, of course, this magic is enough to contend with that of the Fae. But Syrlya can think of at least one way to boost it.

[npcarnival]

"You can't just write it," the Curator says. "You must live it!"

The Scribe considers them all as they speak, hoping down from the books and trotting over to them.

"How could you forget?" they ask, looking up at Lambert in particular, who seems baffled by the whole thing. "You've done it before. Let me show you!"

The Scribe then turns into a dual image of Lambert - though, dressed as he had been in Portland. Taking a step back as if to show Lambert something, they reach their hand towards their chest, and produce a sword made of some kind of fiery energy.

"Remember how your will made the power real, shaping it and producing a flaming sword to defend the one you loved?" the Scribe asks, in Lambert's voice.

They raise the magic sword towards the ceiling, striking a gallant pose.

[prazerbutterfly]

Tyki can think of a few times that the books tried to kill him and he was forced to play whatever role suitable. Then again, it had been their choice to work their way into a library. He's not happy that some of the defenses were a little brutal than others and they were thankful none of them died from it.

"No, it's not fiction but some of the stories were. We were forced to play them." It's not worth attacking the both of them right now. Tyki feels like nothing would really get accomplished that way. He is curious about Syrlya's question and waits on the answer for that.

Tyki snorts, but it is unclear if it is because of Lambert with such a heroic pose or because of something else.

[whattaprick]

Lambert isn't asking any questions at the moment as he's mostly trying not to explode. Fortunately, Syrlya's got a cooler head than he does (really most of the reason he brought him in the first place) and as he asks the Athenaeum's guardians his questions, the witcher's gaze drops to the book the Scribe is writing on.

And he frowns, anger ebbing as something occurs to him.

Do they have to be near a book, or do they just have to have seen it? He reaches into a pocket, tucking out a slightly-crumpled Polaroid picture he'd taken of the Silver Mirror that Zangetsu found. He squints at the faded sketch to refresh his memory -- he's been terrible at playing along with this shit, and mostly gotten by because all it requires is him acting like a witcher. Is it really as simple as holding out his hand and willing something to be there?

He looks up, about to ask, when the Scribe keeps speaking ... does ... that. Turns out it's super unsettling to see a copy of yourself, and Lambert's jaw just drops open as the scribe goes on, color steadily rising in his face but he doesn't manage words until the Scribe finishes their bit and he finally snaps back to himself.

"Enough! We get the point!" Just ... put it away!

I'm still not awake but I couldn't resist

[dressedtothe]

9S had been previously silent, letting the others take the lead in the negotiations with the Scribe and Curator. He'd been rather incredulous about their choice in defense mechanisms but he couldn't quite keep his snort of laughter in check at Lambert and 'Lambert'.

[anti_nonsense]

So it's about the books? The spirits? Willpower? Experience? A combination of all of the above?

"You're a wordsmith, aren't you? Can't you explain this more clearly?" Rita scoffs at the Scribe. "You know, maybe for those of us who haven't had the experience of producing a flaming sword to defend the ones we love?"

Despite her frustration, Rita clearly went out of her way to reiterate those details. Suck it, Lambert.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya looks between Lambert and the Scribe's mimic of him, again and again. Hm, maybe another time he can ask about that.

Instead he looks to Rita. "Have to experienced any of the book's magic? It seems to forcibly entwine us in their stories... I assume that to use the defense of this place is to trap them within a story that we can energe victorious."

He sounds a bit dubious about that, though. "Of course, there is the matter of getting our captured in a position where we can retrieve them as well."

[npcarnival]

The Scribe relaxes their pose, letting the sword vanish. They still look like Portland Lambert, though, which is weird.

"I only write what I see," they say, lifting their hands helplessly. "You can only create what you feel. Tell the story as you want it to happen - invite the ghosts of the stories around you."

The Curator pointedly attempts to take attention away from the Scribe. They aren't sure how much you read of the Scribe's work, but it's all a bit flowery.

"What the Scribe means is that it is difficult to explain with words something that can only be felt. There is a certain frequency to our magic that you must be in tune with - the same that you would feel when cooperating with the specters. You must take that energy and do more with it than simply cooperate... you must lead."

[dressedtothe]

9S' hand goes to his chin as he thinks.

"So... we have to be the heroes of the stories? If we choose to act out a story where we, the gallant heroes, triumphantly rescue captives from the clutches of some henious villains..."

He glances over at Lamber-- the Scribe as if for confirmation.

"That would allow us to use this place's defences to our advantage, wouldn't it?"

[npcarnival]

"Yes!" the Scribe says, clapping their hands together in an expression of joy. "You've got it! You become the heroes, and you make sure it is the kind of story where the heroes win in the end!"

They look very pleased - which seems entirely inappropriate in Lambert's face.

[prazerbutterfly]

Tyki's mood has lifted significantly just from the Scribe using Lambert's body for devious expressions. He's grinning wide and trying to remain calm despite the fact he's now giggling and clapping his hands like some excited youth. "I've played far too many roles this week to properly deny this as a possibility." Last thing he wanted to do was cast himself as a hero again but if that was the only option they were going to give.

"I believe our Doctor did make a sword after Reira's prompt if I remember correctly?" One of his spells from the carnival did start from his own subconscious will. "With it, he sliced water. Something of an impossibility turned real."

[whattaprick]

In contrast to the Scribe's cheerful, distressingly boyish smiling, Lambert's expression is just perpetually shifting between various levels of 'kill me now' and 'I'm going to kill you.' It doesn't help that Portland's Lambert looks ten years younger and like an overworked graduate student (which he was) and overall looks like someone who's led a much easier life.

"But it has to be a story the fae won't catch onto easily, right?" he clarifies, trying not to look as bothered by his doppleganger as he is (he is very bothered). "Otherwise, they could use the story against us, too."

[npcarnival]

"Much like the spectres, if you push too hard against the flow of events, your attempt will be rejected," the Curator clarifies. "The actions that fit closest to the story but still result in your victory are the most effective."

"But the Faerie Folk won't be able to bend the story in the same way," the Scribe says. "The defense of the Athenaeum has been given to you. If you stray too far from the Fae's reality, they'll be more likely to break the spell. The events must be consistent, or the narrative will fall apart."

[dressedtothe]

So, in a way, the Scribe and Curator are on their side without actively getting involved? He doesn't want to press that further, so instead he asks, "The story we choose to use against the fae... does it need to follow something we've experienced?"

Because the closest experience he's had to their current situation resulted in all the captives dying.

"Or can it be one we make up? One that could theoretically give us, say, magic that we wouldn't otherwise have, or a," he gestures to the Scribe, "weapon with other effects?"

He's not creative himself, as evidenced by all his dealings with the book spectres, but if the Carnival could create a fictional advantage where they have none currently...

[prazerbutterfly]

It's a small comfort than the fae couldn't manipulate the story as they could. It gives him a little bit of an advantage in rescuing carnival members or putting a stop to this disaster. The quicker the got out the better in his opinion.

Tyki's a conman for the carnival. He could fit any role he had to but against Fae? That was a tricky idea. They seemed to enjoy servants and slaves more than anything else. It's not like it would be easy to just create a mutiny out of nowhere and stab them in the back. Fae didn't go down that easily from what he's heard. Lambert had a point but then so did 9S. "Nothing outrageous then."

[whattaprick]

"We fought them in Portland, at the ritual to break the Severing." Lambert looks at Rita, uneasily. Of this group, she's the only other one who was there, but the prospect of recreating that entire scenario ... the one the form the Scribe is wearing now ... is a little daunting. Also, that entire thing was for another purpose entirely.

"... What if we put together bits and pieces of other victories?" He pauses, pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose, as he tries to think. "Syrlya stabbed the Prince with the Blue Rose. I called on the Earth Spirit to interrupt the ritual. The Ringmaster defeated the Morningstar in hell... being Guardians of Creation?"

His voice sounds more doubtful as he goes on. Lambert doesn't know what crossover fanfiction is, but putting those all together sounds about as plausible.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya looks down at his hand--the one changes by the Blue Rose, hidden under his glove and sleeve--and his brows raise with realization.

"They are proven victories against the Fae as well. And don't they also involve the successful recovery of our people?" He smiles a bit, finding sense in Lambert's line of thinking. He looks aside to the others. "If the power of this defense is in our ability to act along with it, then they needn't be the real things."

It's the start of something, anyway, and that's more than what they had before.