lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS 3.0

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⇨ POLARIS 3.0

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 115
Where: Polaris
What: On the morning of day 115, a couple hours before the technicians would come to pick up the test subjects, the escape plan will officially come into effect. If your character has been left out of the loop up till this point, feel free that someone hastily explains the plan during the initial phase! The meat of everything else will be played out via megathreads and any private toplevels people want to make.
Warnings: Probably violence.

PEER REVIEW↴

The plan starts with getting everyone out of their cells. Childermass is going to be using his Gilded Mark to enhance his shadow movement abilities, unabling him to teleport himself and other people out of containment. If your character has other ways of escaping they are free to pursue that, but on a base level, it can be assumed that everyone gets out thanks to Childermass. (Thanks Childermass!) Once everyone has been removed from their cells by some means or another, they will be forced to split into teams as swiftly as possible, as the moment people start breaking out, negative attention from the staff will start building. The area is poorly guarded at first, but as people become aware of the breakout, more will arrive.

Gild, speaking on behalf of her inside plant, will say that those that 1) want to get their stuff back, 2) want to find Ignatius, should get the assistance of their allied Deltas to access sector A5. From there, they will have to access Polaris's storage in A3, a neighbouring sector, and find access to C2, the station where Ignatius is being held. They should expect to be met with armed resistance, but with any luck allies will be there to assist them.

In general, characters will be most effective if they back one of these major objectives:

► TEAM LOOT: This team is trying to get back the items and pets that were confiscated when the group was brought into Polaris. Their objective, according to their allies on the inside, is to get to A5, and then make their way to A3. The important thing is being able to locate their stuff among a sea of other items, and to make it through security in order to reclaim it. Gild's plant has said that they will assist with this. After getting these items, Team Loot may wish to merge with Team Rescue.

► TEAM RESCUE: This team's primary focus is to get to A5 and then make their way to C2. If desired, they may wait for or join with Team Loot, or they may strike out ahead in order to take advantage of the element of surprise. The key factors are obtaining a way to access C2, as well as being prepared for armed conflict with the technicians guarding it, as well as possibly the Mother of Invention herself. Though, the ideal is that Gild will be distracting here at that time.

► TEAM DISTRACTION: This team can do their thing wherever they please, as their main intent is to sew general discord and distract the staff from the teams doing more important things. They should be prepared for armed resistance, but what tactics they pursue beyond that point are highly variable.

► TEAM FORTRESS: This team is attempting to set up a protective base of operations in the original sector in order to survive the conflict and protect their noncombatant comrades. How they accomplish this is also highly variable.

Other objectives may exist, of course, and can be made with their own separate top levels. Chunks of these megathreads will have to be played out in summary form, so when characters are simply trying to get from place to place and specifics aren't necessary, feel free to stick to that format. Assume that everyone is already out of their cells for the purpose of the megathreads.

Here is a shitty map of how the sectors connect, from a side view of the central Polaris hub.

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Syrlya's been equally weary, so he doesn't really acknowledge her when she's first brought in besides looking her direction. There's no need to try and rouse her, and he doesn't know the extent of how she's suffered either.

It's only later, when he catches her shift more aware that he calls out from where he lays. "Peridot?"

Her ears lift up slightly at the sound of his voice, and she turns to peer blearily at him.

"You're not dead," she rasps, sounding every bit as excited as she can muster despite her low energy levels at the moment.

"I'm not." Nobody except the Mother of Invention is, thankfully. "It takes a little more than that to do me in."

Just don't test how much. Luckily, like Steven, Syrlya is more resilient to raw pressure. "Thank you for getting the iron. You did well."

It's genuine, even if Syrlya is praising her in part out of an impulsive habit from his days commanding. Really, though, he's actually enjoyed working with her. They accomplished things, and those have put them all in a much better position.

She's quiet at that. Normally Peridot would be basking in that praise, but. After everything, she's really not sure how she feels about all this. There's a mental vacuum in the place of all that stressing and plotting and planning they've been doing for the last week or so. She's having trouble adapting, or even feeling proud of what they accomplished.

"She is really dead, right?" Peridot says warily after a moment. "I... Blacked out for a while after I got the iron in."

"She is. Everyone else made certain to destroy every piece of her essence." Which Syrlya knows by virtue of laying on the ground and overhearing it until they got him in here.

"There are a lot of injuries to tend to, but no one of ours perished." He pauses. "Or is permanently cripples, as far as I know."

She believes him, just as she believes everyone else who has told her the same thing. It's just... It still doesn't really feel real, that they actually succeeded. They actually killed a true fae. It's as improbable as and difficult to imagine as shattering a Diamond. It doesn't feel like it should even be possible, and yet, it happened.

"Mmm. I guess we're going to have to start devising a plan to get the Ringmaster back next, aren't we?" she muses aloud. Easier to flit from one topic to the next than to contemplate what just happened.

"Most likely. And, I suppose, what to do with the Winter Queen and the Huntsman beyond that."

He taps his fingers absently against the bed. "We cannot have them continuing to murder us indefinitely. Something will need to be done to shake them off of our trail permanently."

Peridot turns away from him for a moment, her tired gaze focused on some indefinite point in the middle distance. She grossly miscalculated; this topic of conversation isn't any more comforting than talking about the Mother was.

"...Yes," she says weakly, and without much conviction. "That is definitely true."

She seems extremely troubled. She IS extremely troubled, and is trying very hard not to show it. Why does it suddenly feel like her stomach is full of bees?

Syrlya, meanwhile, can't stop thinking of his job. He stares contemplatively up at the ceiling, regarding in his own head where they are right now, where they need to go, and with who.

And then he looks sideways, pausing when he catches sight of Peridot and her blatant uncertainty.

"Is there something else troubling you?"

She sucks in a breath through her teeth and taps her single bat claw anxiously.

"I don't know," she admits, sounding a bit flustered. "We just achieved an incredible victory. We took down the Mother of Invention, we won back our freedom... I should be feeling happy right now! Shouldn't I?" The claw tapping picks up speed, and she continues without waiting for an answer. "So if that's the case-- why can't I just relax and stop thinking about how much we still have left to do?"

Oh, that. Syrlya blinks owlishly as her worries echo through his head.

And then his form almost crumples wearily, like it can't keep the weight up anymore. It aches, and he can't keep any assurance in his expression as he gaze drifts off and loses focus like he isn't even looking through his eyes anymore. It's a little hollow. "Because we don't know how many victories it will take before it's over."

Defeating the Mother of Invention opened possibilities for their future, but no guarantees. Syrlya's very familiar with lack of satisfaction in winning a battle when you realize you're racing the clock for an even bigger problem with plans you can barely scrape together in time. When the end feels farther away despite it because new threats you didn't even know where hiding in the shadows come out. When every single victory comes with a cost, and you don't know if you have enough to lose to survive it. This was one of his cleaner successes--at least it didn't cost any of them their lives.

He never really stops thinking about it, either, how much more there is to do.

The bat almost seems to shrink, the way she slowly, meekly curls in on herself. The claw tapping stops, and instead she clenches the one thumb on each wing, clutching at whatever cloth the med team has her temporarily nesting on.

"I don't... Know if I can keep doing this," she admits quietly, looking haunted. It's an uncharacteristically open display of self-confidence, or rather a lack thereof. "I was never made for all this fighting. Up until now I've been ignoring that particular factor, because I thought I'd learned that my designated role back on Homeworld was just an arbitrary system set up by the Gems in power. But now I've tried stepping outside that those limitations, and...

She trails off again. She's not quite sure where she's going with this.

"It is not easy," he admits. "It is not something that everyone can handle."

Syrlya's used to it. It's hard, but he's learned to push past it into a numb acceptance that keeps him going despite it all. It's a sacrifice of duty, for him, but the carnival wasn't for righting wrongs and combating the rule of the fae.

But they're already deep into it, so none of them really have much of a choice now. "We'll persevere. This, at least, will end."

And he sounds confident about that, if only because they are ultimately very small in a very big problem. And that makes it daunting, but it also means they have a better chance of distancing themselves. Like foot soldiers.

Peridot doesn't seem especially reassured, worry still creasing her fuzzy little brow.

She lowers her head, resting her chin between her wings. "How can you even be so sure about that?" she murmurs quietly.

Syrlya lets out a slightly hoarse chuckle. "Because most of us are stubborn, disruptive troublemakers won't accept anything less."

Amusement flickers in his expression before he looks up at the ceiling. "We've left things too precious to abandon."

Whether from their homes or unfinished contracts or promises they need to uphold... if Syrlya has faith in anybody, it's the people in the carnival itself. Maybe that's just the kind of ragtag group one can expect from a wyld fae recruiting for her traveling circus.

That's all very true. They're all a bunch of stubborn and tenacious idiots. Still... Her own tenacity feels pretty tapped out at the moment.

"Mm. Well right now, I'm feeling like I might just leave the next big fight against a true fae to the other 'troublemakers'," Peridot groans.

Syrlya grinds wider at that. "Even so, I was glad to work with you these past few days."

He glances sideways to her, relaxing a little. "Take as much time to rest as you need, Peridot. You've earned it."

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⇨ POLARIS 3.0

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