lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS

Entry tags:

⇨ POLARIS

Who: Everyone!
When: Days 102 - 109
Where: Polaris
What: With the Ringmaster kidnapped and the rest of the carnival imprisoned, characters find themselves at the mercy of a Winter Fae called the Mother of Invention.
Warnings: Graphic experimentation in places.

TRIALS & TRIBULATION↴

After a day of cleansing and processing, where all the belongings and attire of their old lives are stripped away and replaced with something newer and more form fitting, the former members of the carnival will find themselves let loose into the Farm for the first time. A sizable green area, filled with orchards growing inorganic looking fruits and field ready for tending, the Farm is where they will be spending their days for the forseeable future.

Food and drink are no longer needed, and so every day is an endless cycle of work. Technicians are seen only when necessary, and when being taken from your place of work to your lonesome cells at night. Every day, there are new postings on the "Production Board", where various dire sound scientific trials ask for subjects. The majority won't be forced, at least not yet, but the system is at work to push its participants to the brink and force their hand.

After all, volunteers make the best subjects.

► PRODUCTIVITY: As explained elsewhere, characters will be forced to compete to attain enough Productivity Point to be considered Satisfactory. There are literally not enough points to go around for everyone to attain this, which means that at least some people will be deemed "Below Expectations" by the end of the first four-day cycle. What this means has yet to be discovered, but the Technicians have grimly warned against it.

Productivity involves many tasks, including orchard picking, tilling, planting, harvesting, watering, maintenance, and more. Any task you can think of that would take place on a plantation is applicable here. Beyond that, the Production Board awaits you, offering precious Productivity Points in exchange for your cooperation. How you become Satisfactory is up to you, but it's every person for themselves. Only one person can turn in the credit for harvesting or preparing fields, and while you can certainly try to help others by letting them take credit for your work, it's a sure fire way to fall behind the herd, especially if you are already in a low Classification.

Fruits and fields will miraculously grow overnight, and will be ready for a new day when you are. You've been told not to eat anything you harvest, but right now you aren't hungry anyway.

► POLARIS BY NIGHT: During the night, you are left alone to your thoughts and maybe an annoying roommate. Solo or in pairs, the entire night will be spent in small sleep pods, as shown on the locations post. Is it possible to sneak out? It doesn't seem like it is, but who is to say? The real question is if you want to dare to try. There is one hour of rest before and after seven hours of darkness. Even if you don't usually have to sleep, you'll find yourself oddly weary and inclined to rest. Supernaturally, almost.

► PARTICIPATION: Sometimes participation in experimental trials is manditory, sometimes it isn't. You are free to handwave your character having been pulled aside for minor examinations, such as blood tests or aura scans. Each time, you will be pulled into a separate part of the station and analyzed by a Technician and heavily automated machinery. Anymore more complex than basic check-up level tests will be posted about in a section called "TRIALS" in the body of the post below.

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Unsurprisingly, Strange doesn't care much about theology to get into a debate of some kind. Tyki thinks that the God of his world has forsaken its people? Awesome, he'll believe that! Strange honestly doesn't give enough damns about God to have an opinion of his own.

"I wonder..." he muses, with a little frown. "The Ringmaster isn't coming to save us. How many of the others have accepted that fact or not?"

Thankfully, Strange doesn't latch on. He could go on all day about that kind of thing because he loved tearing someone down for having such unshakeable faith.

At the mention of the Ringmaster he'll look down at his own hands, flexing and unflexing them. He banked on her, hadn't taken Ignatius' deal, and could chide himself at such 'unshakeable faith' in her. She had died so easily. He had at least expected some sort of fight. Which made him question the Huntsman and his tools. But still, it was disheartening.

"You mean, how many had already accepted that. Is that not why most of carnival sided with Sir Ignatius and took his deal? I imagine even more consider that now."

"I honestly think that most accepted out of desperation, not out of any faith." Desperate times call for desperate measures. And if Strange had to put money on something, he'd put money on the carnival members being scared and panicky, not any faith or lack thereof in the Ringmaster or Ignatius.

"Still. She disappointed us." And from the way Strange twirls one of his burning curls around his finger, it's fairly obvious what Strange's next thought is. The Ringmaster disappointed them. Ignatius didn't.

"Desperation is why a lot of things happened, just as things will continue to happen." Even now, with the egg broken and Ignatius having his Heart back, he's careful with his words, careful not to say things such as 'it's why we broke it' or 'desperation is why he has his heart back'. He also avoids telling Strange that he's 'right.'

It's not as if he distrusted or hated Ignatius for his own decision, that was never something he ever held towards anyone. His was mostly a reluctant to be under any other fae's thumb, even if temporary. His eyes lift back up towards Strange again, watching his mannerisms.

"It's not as if I doubt that she'll try to come for us but likely she is unable," he responds, his look definitely of disappointment as he speaks of her, "She did."

Strange is watching the end of his hair as he continues to twirl it around his finger. The burning end brushes against the fabric of the bodysuit as he talks and thinks.

"Even if she did come back for us, then what? It's not like we can all return to the carnival and pretend like everything's normal after this." There still would be the Wyld Hunt, two Courts, and Lord knows what else trying to kill them.

"And, if I'm interpreting the Huntsman's words correctly, she couldn't take us back even if she wanted to." Wait a moment. Was Tyki even there when the Huntsman and that Mother of Invention drone did a handover? Strange's expression shifts to a quizzical one as he sits up and looks over at Tyki. "Do I need to fill you in on that part?"

He shifts his arm, recently healed and not broken thanks to whatever they sprayed him with, up more against his side. He rubs into it gently, fixating on something else other than his own hands, working out tired muscles from having a useless arm for the entirety of the Wyld Hunt being around.

"She's still our best bet at returning home unless we find our own way separately as I assume most of us will have to," he says, "We are still bound to her contract no matter what she can or can't do."

But Strange is perceptive as always. He had been at that fight, had been there to see the Ringmaster transform into herself, but the moment she died Tyki's mentality had snapped. He had fled without a moments notice, every man for himself, as his best option had been trying to save his own skin. The Wyld Hunt was simply faster.

"You do," is all he'll respond to, "Everything after the Ringmaster's death."

"That's the thing," Strange frowns. "I don't think we are bound to her contract anymore."

He only waits a second to catch his breath before he starts explaining. "After the Ringmaster died, a little robot thing from the Mother of Invention showed up." The word that Mr. Regency Period is looking for is 'drone,' but thankfully Mr. Victorian Period over there won't judge him for not knowing the word.

"The way the Huntsman was talking it sounded like he had power over us and was shifting that power to the Mother of Invention. He said something like 'take the spoils until your Queen decides otherwise. But most importantly, the Huntsman was able to resurrect those who died during the Hunt. I don't think he would have been able to do that if he didn't hold some magical sway over us. Perhaps when one faerie kills another, they can lay claim to assets or changelings in the deceased faerie's possession."

It's fine. Tyki's trying to imagine what a little robot thing is and he's coming up with someone barbaric. They do have golems in his world and something like that but he's not thinking anything like what it should be. He would have no idea what 'drone' was if Strange said it.

"Is that why our powers aren't working. I noticed I didn't have them the moment I dropped out of the sky in Eden. Thankfully I hadn't been that high up in the air and I was grasped by a lot of creatures at once that happened to break my fall," he says with some dry optimism. He knows with the Ringmaster it wasn't her restricting his power to choose. It's just how things were.

"So, just like a war, to victory goes the spoils."

Strange nods. Tyki's got the right of it: if the Mother of Invention holds possession of them, then she holds possession of their magical powers, ergo she can...do whatever the hell she's doing to shut them off.

"I don't know how it works with those of us who contracted with one or more other faerie besides the Mother." Though Strange has a sneaky suspicion he's the only dipshit in the carnival who's got three different fae with claim to his soul instead of just one or two (faebloods don't count). "But even if the Ringmaster does manage to come back from the dead, battle her way past the Huntsman, and come here, she'll still need to reclaim us from the Mother of Invention somehow."

There's a little pause, before Strange gets a tiny bit bitchy. "Though, the easiest way to do that is simply blow up the Mother with the Blue Rose. But considering that apparently killing other fae is bad now, despite the fact that it's at the root of all of this mess, I've got no idea how she'd reclaim us in the first place."

"She won't win everyone back, even if she claims everyone back," he says outright. Yet he listens to Strange, letting him bitch as much as he wants. His ears flatten in annoyance.

"You didn't seem to mind it when she didn't kill Sir Ignatius," he retorts, though he understands that mess more than he wants to admit. Ignatius didn't seem all that bad but to Tyki he was still a fae. He still remembers every word Strange had to say on them in the past, even when it came down to the Ringmaster, and he won't forget it. "I know what she's doing. I get it. So did Ignatius as a prisoner of war."

In his opinion, he didn't have to do w hat he did, offering deals to protect them. If that had been Tyki, he wouldn't taken his power and returned home, changed or not. But then Ignatius family is unknown to him and Tyki's would take him back without question regardless of how much he was different.

Strange nods a little at Tyki's statement. True, true. The Ringmaster has probably shattered the trust of a few people or, at least in Strange's case, that trust has definitely lessened a bit.

"Ignatius was different," Strange points out, with a little frown. Mostly because in Strange's mind, it was. Her dealing with Ignatius was trying to clean up a mess that Lambert and the rest had made, not any definitive action herself.

And then, his frown shifts to a smile for a moment. "Though, I suspect she didn't kill Ignatius mostly because people wanted her to do that. Nothing's better for fueling decisions than pure, unadulterated spite."

Case in point: Strange's entire existence.

"How was Ignatius any different? He was a fae brought into carnival because he became a problem. Willingly or not, he still kidnapped you. By your standards, he should've been eaten," he half teases, understanding what Strange meant and yet unable to stop from picking at the other.

He's sinking down onto the bed and stretching out, folding his hands on his stomach with his tail lashing at his side, "He made her cry, the Nightrider, you know." Or that is what Zangetsu told him. "Yes, spite was likely a high factor."

He sobers a little, his expression changing into a flat and questionable look, "I don't doubt murder would be on the table if she were able to be here now. The Mother of Invention has taken what she considers hers. I get the impression not many fae would but she would." And that somewhat keeps his respect for her intact, even if factors were out of their hands.

The Ringmaster crying is news to Strange. He leans back on the bed as well, still keeping a distance from Tyki so that he's not on top of him or right next to him, but not keeping too far a distance.

"That asshole," Strange responds, in a slightly fond tone of voice. "No wonder she broke half his bones." And the idiot never apologized, did he? Way to go, Lambert, now you've lost your chance entirely.

But back to the fun conversation of murder. "She wasn't willing to murder Nightshade when she attacked carnival members in Wismuth. Though I suppose kidnapping is worse than simple violence." Strange pauses a little, before he continues talking. "Objectively speaking, indulging in nostalgia won't help us at all, but it's nice. Just having a moment to think about the Ringmaster as if she were here, not dead in a ditch or eaten by a Wyld Fae somewhere."

Really he shouldn't be giving out such delicate information. He'd rather others see people for their stronger traits but then it had been somewhat humbling to know she could get emotional over something someone had said. It made her seem... normal.

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned," he quotes, sparing a glance Strange's way, "Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

He lifts a finger and swirls it in the air as he speaks, like drawing a diagram for Strange to see, "How long ago was that? Did she care as much as he does now? Time changes people for better or worse." Yet he's right again. It was nice to think she was fighting somewhere, for all of them, somehow or another.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask them," Strange simply responds. Or, well, him. It's not like Tyki can ask the Ringmaster what she thinks about Lambert now considering that she's kind of dead. Strange's mood falls a little as he looks over at Tyki.

"But yes, I've no idea how much either of them would care about something like that. I'd hope they would lessen the grudge. After all, so many worse things have happened since then."

Said as Strange gestures vaguely towards the sleeper cell they're currently stationed in. This definitely counts as 'worse things.'

"It pales in comparison to the stories I've been told," he explains, his hand lowering back down to his stomach as he considers the mess they are in right now. Without power, Tyki wasn't entirely useless but then he'd rather a better look around the place outside of the Farm.

There's a lot of factors that made him bank on the Ringmaster as well. What he went through at the hands of the Prince, the fact she offered to console those that were signed on forced with better terms. The trust she extended towards the small handful when it came to Ignatius in the form of that egg.

"At least we have a bed. It's better than the floor or a wall with shackles and chains."

"Thank God for that," Strange sighs. He's still laying down on the bed but he turns to look over at Tyki. When he talks, Strange is very obviously trying to stay awake and blink some sleepiness out of his eyes.

"Though honestly, I've been so damn tired these past few evenings that I probably could fall asleep straight on the floor!"

God had nothing to do with it, again something he could bring up once more, but he refrains to take a good look at Strange. With all the hard work Tyki had done, he had good reason to be tired, yet with his mind racing a million miles a minute, he had almost hoped he would stay awake a lot longer. Yet he was no longer feeling the need to stay awake and it frustrated him.

"Well, if you want to give me the whole bed, I have no objections. Just don't try to cuddle me too hard, good sir."

"Just because I said I could fall asleep on the floor doesn't mean that I want to," Strange retorts, grinning still. "And don't worry. I shan't cuddle you too much."

There is a little pause before he continues talking. That grin turns into a big ol'shit eating grin as Strange props himself up a little and continues talking.

"I do want you to continue to call me Jonathan, by the way. It'll confuse the hell out of Lambert and Childermass!" Formality shall be dropped for the sake of giving your friends shit and confusing the hell out of them.

"We don't all get what we wanted," he teases, his body stretching out and taking up the full side of his bed, flipping over onto his stomach with his tail swaying behind him. He never minded bed company mostly because he was use to the sounds of his family sleeping away, caught in Dreams', the Noah of his niece, endless dreams. "Be warned I cuddle back."

The technicians were going to get the wrong idea at this point but he rightly didn't care. He snorts gently, giving Strange a look.

"Sounds fun, Jonathan~♥" In return he expected such formality to be dropped on his end as well. A game only worked if it went two ways.

"I knew you'd be fine doing that." Strange is grinning as well, as he stretches out to take up his full side of the bed. They're going to end up in a huge mess of limbs and tangles but hey, it'll be worth it.

"Good night, Tyki." Thankfully, Strange picks up on the fundamental fact of 'I've got to do it too if we want this to succeed.' He's blown all semblances of formality to heaven and back since he's been here, why not go ahead and put a stake in the last one?

It's not his messy arrangement of over twenty pillows stuffed into his hide hole of a bottom bunk bed with a shutter, but it'll do and he's grabbing that blanket to pull it over himself. Normally he sleeps naked so having the body suit is a little weird.

"Good night, Jonathan. Pleasant dreams," he says, his tail already taking over most of the space behind him without much care for the other man. He's tired and he's going to let sleep take him. He has a hard week ahead of him.

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⇨ POLARIS

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