lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS 2.0

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⇨ POLARIS 2.0

Who: Everyone!
When: Days 110 - 114
Where: Polaris
What: After a mysterious explosion shakes the station, the staff of Polaris struggle to maintain order while the test subjects fight for freedom with the aid of hidden allies. Productivity info is here.
Warnings: More graphic experimentation.

THEORY & CONCLUSION↴

At the midnight between Day 109 and Day 110, something happens. For most people, it won't be clear what - yet, they are shaken by it just the same. Violent tremors appear out of nowhere, rattling the entirety of the Polar station, violent enough to throw sleeping test subjects off their bunks. The source is unclear, but there is a sudden flurry of activity from staff as power flickers and is lost in various parts of the facility. Subjects, for the most part, will be left to their cells while they try to sort things out.

The next morning, the staff are late picking people up. It's more like 6:30AM than the usual 6AM when they arrive to take people to the farm, which is a bit of tardiness that is entirely without precedent. Any questions about the incident the previous night will be waved off with the explanation of 'technical difficulties' that have been 'resolved.'

► DELTA: The three new Deltas will be left in their cells for even longer, waiting to be picked up, instructed that they would be escorted elsewhere instead of to the farm. Around 6:45AM some unfamiliar technicians will arrive and tell them that they are here to begin their processing into Delta. They are led into a previously untouched section of the station, where they are invited into a somewhat more intimate medical room to be asked some cursory questions and given a check up. Then, their suits will be removed, and they will be provided with their new uniforms, which they can apply like normal clothes.

Delta life begins there. There will be a top level for the initial parts of their processing to be played out. Ultimately, however, they will end up being given a tour of the new Delta facilities, which amounts to a waterfront area that borders the new apartments they'll be staying in, as well a small supply shop where they can pick up an allotted amount of 'amenities' per day, based on their level of productivity and other achievements. This includes luxury items like food, pleasant smelling soaps, or other hygiene related tools. There are even small things like decorations or pictures of other places available, though they are fairly expensive.

The first day will mostly involve the processing, a tour, and some basic training regarding the new tools they will be using, such as the mandatory visors and basic computer access. The next day, observation shifts in the farm will start, as will participation in trials.

► FARMING: The Farm will continue as normal, though it seems like there are fewer staff observing it at the moment. The ones that are there seem a little bit more tense than usual. Power is still down in some places, but the Farm is thankfully still active. Sometimes the productivity turn-in scanners might be a bit glitchy, so try not to panic if it measures fewer points than you're due.

► TRIALS: Trials are continuing as projected, though with the most broad of experiments already under way, they may be more selective. If you have an idea for a trial you can be sure to share it with the staff, and they will take it under advisement! Any information you want to provide is encouraged, they will say, especially if it involves notable traits about you or your fellow test subjects - or perhaps behavioral patterns you've noticed. You might even be rewarded!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Syrlya pauses when Childermass asks that question, straightening up from trying to dig while favoring one arm (it's not easy) to look at him in bewilderment. The changes from the blue Rose are still obvious in his coloration and the blooms at the back of his head, but who knows if Childermass remembers seeing that.

"... Do you mean the farming?" Surely not.

"Yes?" Childermass... doesn't really sound sure if he means farming or not, actually. He supposes that would make the most sense right now, though, but Syrlya's coloring has him squinting at him. He wasn't blue before. That guy. He's sure he knows his name, the plant man from the militia, but more importantly— "Weren't you red before?"

Wine red. Yes, he distinctly recalls that much.

"Not since we left that bathhouse..." He squints at Childermass, skeptically. He's seen the cause of amnesia too many times with the carnival, it's not a far leap with the surveillance that Childermass may have been caught and manipulated the same way.

"Tell me, what is the last thing you can remember? Anything after that?"

"I recall... the bathhouse," Childermass says that much with certainty, "I had just pulled myself back together and then... did something terrible happen? Again?"

Yes, again. It seems to be the fashion with their travels.

"I remember agreeing to release someone." On fire. That fire faerie. "After that, it becomes a blur. I know we moved. Here, apparently. I know they found me unconscious in my cell."

Because what else could it be?

Syrlya isn't feeling any more confident in this.

"They found you unconscious?" That's still notable, though, and be raises an eyebrow."you are missing quite a few days of memory, then. At least a week."

"They said something about soul damage but weren't sure..." Childermass trails off as he considers a week, a whole week of missing memories.

He teeters back a step. It's a more overwhelming worry than he typically feels, along with something that feels far too warm, deep in his chest. He ends up pressing a hand against his chest, trying to take a deep breath and stabilize himself. It's not easy.

"At least a week? How could I forget an entire week?"

As Childermass leans back, Syrlya leans forward to try and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him stable.

"I don't know." But he can take some guesses. "Think, if you can. Do you remember the Technicians doing anything? Any impressions of anything... strange?"

They don't have the ability to just drag him away and knock him to his senses this time. Maybe if Childermass can just pull together enough to confirm his suspicions...

"Should I remember them doing anything?" Childermass asks. With Syrlya hanging onto him, he'll stop moving for now, thankfully keeping his feet under him rather than retreating and tripping over anything.

It's an honest question. The trials are, thankfully (or perhaps not), not within his recollection, either.

"It's as I said. They pulled me out of my cell and asked me what happened, not the other way around. I... couldn't tell them. I think I may have done something?" He sounds more and more frustrated as he tries to figure it out. "But why would I do anything to my own soul?"

Edited 2018-10-18 04:00 (UTC)

He honestly probably wouldn't in this state, but Syrlya can hope.

"You think you did something?" He pauses. "Does any of your magic, perhaps, have the effect of amnesia if used poorly? Or excessively?"

Peridot said meditating on her contract to Ignatius got something working, after all. Maybe Childermass did the same--maybe that was the problem.

"No, it shouldn't," Childermass says that much without a doubt. "Some other magic, then? It isn't too strange for me to handle residual magic... ah... poorly."

It isn't something he likes admitting but, right now, a loss of memory that he can't explain is frightening enough to outweigh some of his secrecy.

"And you really cannot remember anything that has happened here?" Where does someone even start with this? If it were just a repression or mind control by the Technicians, somehow that seems easier to solve.

He glances around, but they're far enough from anyone else he feels safe to continue. "Can you feel anything else different inside you?"

With his hand still held against his own chest, Childermass doesn't have to dwell on that particular question too long. Something does. Something that shouldn't be.

"A warmth," he says, quietly in hopes of only Syrlya hearing. "Which isn't what I normally feel. I'm too much of a Winter changeling to be anything of the sort."

"I can only think of one person who might be imbuing more than one of us with that sort of feeling." Ignatius, obviously. It's not familiar to Syrlya, but it arrived outside the usual pattern for him to assume it wasn't any Technician or experiment.

But he doesn't know what else it means, yet.

And Childermass just stares at him as though expecting him to actually say who. There's a lot of possibilities in his own mind right now, only he's relatively sure they're all missing or imprisoned one way or another. When no name is forthcoming, he'll just... shift his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and drop his hand from where it was clenched against his chest.

"What do you think it means? Surely it's no coincidence."

Edited 2018-10-20 00:25 (UTC)

Syrlya furrows his brow, having not considered he might have forgotten way more than just the past week.

"I'm certain it isn't. I think it is an opportunity we can take advantage of." He stops briefly, rubbing his chin. "Tell me, have you attempted to use your magic at all today?"

It's all a bit shaky. Names, faces, they're harder to grasp onto, to place. Syrlya's own name escapes him but he knows who he is, in a sense, only Childermass doesn't know just how to get that across. He remembers a faerie, one they freed, made of fire, so it could be that one... or the Ringmaster... or yet another, only who else would have connections to the both of them beyond the other two, well.

For now, he just steels himself to carry on, trying to follow what Syrlya's asking as well as he can, even if the question about magic only earns him another uncertain look. The sheer lack of magic before, another hole in his mind.

"I did," he admits, "Try to drop through a shadow. I could feel the magic there but it wouldn't go through."

Maybe it's just hard to completely forget the talking plant.

"Still not working, is it..." Maybe it didn't quite have the effect he was hoping for--or maybe he basically just exploded and died, but Syrlya feels like maybe that would have the opposite effect.

"The Mother of Invention is the one preventing our current use of our abilities. She is the Fae currently claiming us." Just in case that specific detail's been lost.

"There's a difference between not working and not having enough magic to transport an entire person through a shadow," Childermass points out. Had his magic not worked before? What nonsense is that? Though if another faerie is blocking it, that would make some sense.

"What of your own? Have you tried anything?"

Oh, that gets him to perk up a little. "So it responded at least a little?"

Maybe his initial hopes weren't unfounded after all. If Childermass could reach some of his magic... well, that isn't likely the Technician's doing, is it? Not if the Mother of Invention is trying to keep them locked down.

Though, for his own. "Ah--not since..." He glances down at his limper arm. "No, not for the past two days. Perhaps I will."

He needs to do something to get his arm working again, otherwise he's twice as crippled as before.

Childermass follows Syrlya's look down, to the arm. It hasn't been moving terribly much, that's true, but under the suit, he can't quite tell that anything is wrong. So, for now, he dismisses the curiosity and looks up again.

"Is there something small you can try? Perhaps we should take our work somewhere a little more out of sight..."

Syrlya's hesitance to try isn't quite along the possibility of failure, but he simply nods and angles his head to point down a path, drawing his hand back. "The orchard is a little more private."

Maybe, if one doesn't assume the possible cameras watching their every move. But if everything they do is observed, what good does trying to hide do anyway? Nobody's acted on this level of boldness so far, and Syrlya presumes that's because they've seen many failed attempts at freedom before and aren't too worried about low-level efforts.

Childermass will nod back to Syrlya and picks up the shovel he'd been working with in the field. Throwing that over one shoulder, he'll head off towards the orchard as casually as he can. Which is to say, looking miserable and not particularly inclined to go over there and yet... As one might expect from an imprisoned changeling, anyway.

He'll meet Syr over there, amongst the trees.

Syrlya will opt to take the path slightly different, just so it isn't as obvious they aren't going to conspire.

Once he finds Childermass again among the trees, he leans his back against one of them and holds his good arm out. He won't bother with any words before he focuses on pulling together magical energy, drawing strictly from the magic for his illusions.

It's purple, and starts to crackle over his hand. He raises his brows. "That's certainly more than I could manage before."

"Which means we can use magic," Childermass says, watching the purple crackle over Syrlya's hand. Just not enough for him to move through shadows, apparently, but he'll stab his shovel into the ground and raise his own hands, similarly, to try his own.

He holds his hands together, one cupping over the other to create a pocket of shadow between, and focuses. It isn't immediate, mind having to settle on what to build and then pulling it together mostly out of sight the way his hands are held. His magic doesn't give off any spark or real indication of use, not unless Syrlya can sense magic happening in its own right, but when he does finally lift his hand up and away from the other, a small bird made completely of darkness sits in it. It's more of a silhouette given more form than a real bird, not unlike the numerous shadow crows the magician is prone to leaving around the carnival.

Syrlya assumes, looking at it, that it is like his crow constructs. He's not much of an illusionist, after all, like Syrlya.

He lets the magic dissipate, leaning closer. "Can it still scout for you?"

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