lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS AFTERMATH

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⇨ POLARIS AFTERMATH

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 115-118
Where: Polaris/Wyldlands
What: After killing the Mother of Invention, the majority of the carnival has decided to take some time and sort out the Polaris refugees before heading to the Summerlands. This log covers miscellaneous post-Mother Polaris drama, as well as some light camping in the Wyldlands down below.
Warnings: Idk, stuff, I guess.

ADAPTATION↴

After the battle, the majority of carnival members will opt to remain in the secured section to Polaris, hoping to spend some time making sure that the rest of Polaris is liberated. Many of the staff are not capable of coming to grips with the fact that the Mother is dead so quickly, and the remaining Alphas are doing their best to keep Polaris under their sway. It will be a busy few days of changing minds and exploring the remains of the station. Thankfully, with everyone's powers intact and allies at their side, they finally have the advantage.

► SHIFTING STATES: Right off the bat, about 10% of the staff will immediately change sides upon hearing whats become of the Mother. They are actively eager to get away from Polaris, and will do whatever they can assist the carnival. This is mostly Gammas and a few Betas, who were working primarily under duress. Over the next day or two, those numbers will grow to at least 30%, with some of the staff managing to convince their colleagues to join them. About two days after starting, one of the Alphas will surrender to the carnival, encouraging those beneath her to support their cause. That leaves four Alphas remaining, and staff cooperation at 50%.

► CAPTIVE ATTENTION: The loyalist staff's main tactics are trying to create defensive points within the various test group areas, using the prisoners as hostages. Luckily, the carnival (and the staff on their side) will be in a position where it's possible to push them out with a mixture of convincing and force. Once prisoners start being freed, there will be even more force backing the carnival's efforts, meaning that it will essentially become a matter of cleaning up the remaining staff rather than any uphill battles. Most of this is being left vague intentionally, as most of this action is being handwaved. However, you can play out parts of it if you want and NPC technicians and rescuees. Other test groups can be filled with basically whatever kind of residents you like, since they are grabbed from across the multiverse. Most of the test areas are similar to B7.

► THE JACKPOT: Alongside cleaning up the staff, some members of the carnival have expressed interest in convincing the staff to help them with armoury issues as well as hunting down some of the Mother's most private loot. This will be handled in investigations, mostly through summary, because I don't have it in me for another megathread right now. Post your plans, and I will respond! However, know that I also don't have time to generate five million special items, so loot drops will be limited to my availability. Also, the techs aren't really blacksmiths so they generally won't really be able creating weapons from scratch or anything.

Meanwhile, Ignatius is going to set up a camp ground outside of Polaris, mostly because he doesn't want to be there anymore. He'll keep a fire going and they can drag things from Polaris down there for camping purposes, and mostly Ignatius is just going to be chilling and making sure that the campground doesn't get assaulted by magical creatures. The Gilded Mark will create a portal between the campground and the station so that people can go back and forth as required. It also creates a handy escape route.

You can even see Polaris from here, floating up there in the sky. How picturesque.

► WYLDERKIN: Apparently not everything in the Wyld Lands is a full Wyld Fae - there are also a lot of less powerful creatures called 'wylderkin' - apparently lesser forms of the Wyld Fae, who are more akin to animal level intelligence. They can be a variety of expected fantasy type creatures, such as flower sprites, weird bugs, and general prey animals they probably spend most of their time getting eaten by bigger dudes. All of them are sort of weird and fantastical, and none of them are exactly like earth varieties, though they may resemble them. They are more of a pest than a major threat in this part of the Wyld Lands, and Ignatius will scare away any that cause too many problems.

► FLORA AND FLUID: There are some plants that you can eat down here, that Ignatius will tell you about. Mostly weird berries and roots. There is also some pools of clear water, thought hey are filled with weird fish. Try not to bitten by any weird leeches. You can safely make up some of the creatures you find as long as they fit the general theme of lesser faerie creatures. This is just a rest stop.

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"You underestimated this mattress," Sistina suggests, fluffing herself out and nestling in a warm hollow to settle down back to sleep herself. "Papyrus slept so hard we remember dreaming, and it wasn't even nightmares. I'm surprised and relieved."

Papyrus takes the other tepid tuber anyway, throwing the whole shilled foot script out the window as he takes it closer to his face to examine it. If they're going to keep comparing it to a hot dog, it's closer to a shriveled little thing that got cooked too long. Not particularly soft to the touch, either, from what he can tell as he pokes it.

"Anyway, I think you have to try it first, and tell me how much belief to pour into it," Papyrus concludes, lowering the mystery vegetable and considering that ketchup bottle. "I'm having trouble believing in hot dogs."

Sans casually bites the hotdog in half, though getting through the veggie-dog on the first time seems to be a challenge. As a result, he ends up smearing ketchup onto his teeth. Gorgeous.

"Uh," he says after a moment. "Well. What's important is that you keep an open mind."

Though he's not going to let the opportunity to talk about him sleeping pass.

"But... Yeah. I heard you mumbling in your sleep. Usually, that's my job. What were you dreaming about?"

Papyrus watches that display of manners and grace, prods his own 'hot dog' even more skeptically, and shakes his head. That seems like too much open mind, even for Papyrus. If he's going to eat this, it's going to take at least one condiment - and not nearly as much as Sans used.

As he goes for the ketchup, Sistina tugs at one of the blankets to tear a bit of the corner off, and offer it to Sans as a makeshift napkin.

"I don't know," Papyrus says with a shrug. He hadn't meant to bring them up at all, but Sistina's making a point about saying things, after their talks in Shabon, and he can't disagree on that point. Or, he could, but it'd be silly and self-defeating in a way he's trying to not keep doing.

"A mix of things? But I did dream about... our father. Dreams, not just... nightmares, like before. These seemed more like... mosaics of memories, filled in with more recent things. It was almost pleasant."

Kind of like he imagines his dust inspires in other people, though he doesn't know for sure. They all know the sort of nightmares he means, after the Realm of Dreams. Dripping shadows casting words of blame and fading away, fragments resembling someone whose face he couldn't place... nightmares of Papyrus himself, walking around Hotland or New Home - areas he made a point of not frequenting after the move to Snowdin - only for nobody to know him or recognize him, and that being horrifyingly familiar somehow. Unpleasant as the older dreams were, though, they make a better topic than Papyrus' new look, or Sans' new thing in his head.

The idea of dreaming about their father in a way that wasn't a nightmare is almost shocking to Sans. He's not sure he's ever dreamed about him in a way that wasn't tinged with some sort of melancholy or anxiety. What is there to even dream about?

"Huh," he says, thinking that idea over. "Anything new? That you didn't remember before?"

He knows that before the memories were something Papyrus didn't have much context to, considering he didn't even know their dad existed. He wonders if that's changed.

"I mean, I don't think it's literal memories," Papyrus says, looking away rather than show his hesitancy and see Sans' reaction to it. "It was... a mishmash of images, both recent and oldly familiar."

Oddly familiar, too, but in a way that at least makes a little more sense ever since Portland joggled something in his skull.

"Unless..." As he talks, he very carefully dots the smallest dabs of ketchup along the cooked root, aiming to keep it from soaking into the neighboring bread slice, and looks his handiwork over with another skeptical expression. "Unless he ever took us for walks through Hotland, talking about science...? Sounding knowledgeable, and a little encouraging... And mostly, commenting on things going on."

"I dunno," Sans says wistfully, and then tosses the rest of the hot dog into his mouth. He takes the bit of fabric from Sistina to clean his face. "I know we used to live there, so... probably? Maybe I'm wrong, but he seemed like the kind of guy that would pontificate."

Sans, of course, has no context for why this would be anything else. It sounds entirely plausible that it could be related to their real dad. He exhales.

"Just another reason we gotta figure out this business with the Ringmaster," he says. "She owes me some info about that."

Papyrus nods, accepting that conclusion and theorized personality as likely enough, while Sistina settles back down and curls up to nap against his leg. He certainly didn't take Tyki's suspicious staring to heart, or think too worriedly about why he'd felt so concerned about the Mother of Invention's death compared to other powerful folks they've seen struck down. He hadn't spoken with the others at any particular length, after all. Of course it was different.

"That's right... She said it took a lot of looking, but she found that family album for a gift. I'm sure she could do more, for a year's contract."

It's bittersweet to think about. The photo album, like basically all his belongings, is tucked away wherever the carnival's gotten off to. Which is reassuring, in that probably none of the cinder sprites or pokemon or menagerie creatures are going through his belongings... but it's still out of reach.

"Dunno why," Sans muses, after a few moments of silence. "But it all feels kind of plausible right now. Finding the Ringmaster. Sorting out this stuff with the Miracles. Finding out more about our dad."

He sounds bemused by his own emotional reaction, as he stares up at the stars.

"Wouldn't have thought this whole mess would leave anyone feeling very optimistic, but..."

It's surprising to hear, and Papyrus stares at his brother rather than the stars, his smile loses a little of the bittersweet edge and mellowing to something more wholehearted.

"Well, we did a lot lately," he offers as explanation. "Not just surviving difficult things... but making our way back out of them."

He scratches at the side of his jaw, the slightly muffled sensations and metallic sounds slowly getting more familiar.

"...We've been through a lot, all of us. Maybe it's not so hard to believe, after so much, that we can do some more. Even if those things are difficult, or complicated. "

"Yeah," Sans says, glancing over at Papyrus for a moment, happy to see a smile that looks genuine. He's not really sure he understands the feeling, himself. It had felt so bad, in the days leading up to the escape... but something about pulling it off, about actually winning and achieving release, made it feel like he was coming out of the tunnel for once.

Sure there would be other tunnels, but... it's better than just being in the same one, forever. There's a lot of unpack for himself, he thinks, and he's going to talk to Hel about it when he's ready. For now, though, he just wants to let himself experience the glow regardless of the reason for it.

"A lot of has changed," he says, finding a couple of his eyes lingering on Papyrus again. He feels the need to ask. "How do you feel about..." He trails off, having a hard time finding the words. There's a pang of guilt. "Uh. The stuff that... happened to you?"

He knows the bronzing isn't the only thing.

It's not the only thing. Imprisonment, experimentation, a blur of repeatedly dying and reviving and other more painful things, and through it all a fearful busywork with no specific rescue to hope for. But the bronzing, or whatever-metaling, is a big thing - and the most obvious to think of, when Sans is asking with that hint of guilt to his voice and expression.

"It's been... a lot," Papyrus repeats, for lack of anything else more positive to say right away. "Dying hurt... but it doesn't hurt now. And this hasn't hurt at any point?"

He starts into a more optimistic, reassuring tone by reflex as he gently removes a joint from his thumb, turning it all around to show how the metal's gotten around the entirety of every bone. Look, no gaps. "It feels very... very exactly fitting, so I almost forget it's there. I don't think it'll chafe!"

"Well if it ever does..." Sans starts, every part of this earnest but uncertain. "Don't... think you can't complain about it because it will make me feel bad, okay? I... I get it, now, I think. And I don't want my angst to overshadow yours."

He feels like his worries have been very loud over the last year, to the point that he viewed all of Papyrus's problems as tied to himself somehow. Papyrus has enough trouble speaking up about these things, and he doesn't want to make everything about himself.

"I mean, if you're not feeling it, don't feel obligated to angst on my behalf. I just mean... y'know." He sighs. "Neither of us have done ourselves any favors by keeping quiet."

Papyrus stills; less frozen in shock, than holding himself still and expressionless, as to not give too many details away.

The first thing on his mind is a nearly wordless alarm, a mangle of thoughts racing to be shared. The second is to dismiss and reassure, an assumption that Sans is offering something he wants to be able to do but can't really, and to make them both feel better about him refusing by expressing gratitude while pretending not to need it. The third is to wonder how his brother cut so quickly to why Papyrus was offering reassurances in the first place...

"But." The words escape his mouth, and his shoulders droop a little bit. But it isn't quickly, or any great mystery, at all. He remembers admitting to Sans that he didn't feel right, going to ask for help when his brother was already dealing with enough. Of course Sans remembered that.

"Are you... sure?" Papyrus asks, softly and unsure himself. "I've been... talking, to other people, instead of keeping things all to myself." Which had been something of an accomplishment in itself. He'd never lost the knack for complaining about irrelevancies, but after becoming king, he'd taken to hiding the more serious unhappinesses from everyone.

Sistina nudges him with a sleepy wing movement, and he shifts to rest a hand on her back, a finger scritching gently at her neck. "Complaining to you about... things like that... I don't want to give you more reasons to doubt yourself. You sounded bad, this morning."

'Talking to other people.'

For some reason that assurance stings a little, even though he knows that's not fair. He hasn't got a monopoly on Papyrus's emotional growth, and he knows there are only positive intentions behind it. But, still. He wants to be that. He wants to be that person for his brother after so many years of failing miserably.

He remembers that morning - a scene that seems so long ago despite it's relative freshness. He shakes his head a little.

"I just... didn't like thinking about you seeing me like that, and feeling like you were alone while they did that to you. I... know it's not my fault. So... hearing your side of it now shouldn't matter, should it?"

It's a world of difference, how Sans acknowledges what Papyrus had reassured him earlier, compared to years past. It might not be fast, it might not sound confident, but... That they're talking like this at all.

"I don't know if 'should' is really a part of this..." Papyrus finally says, mild and wry. "But... okay."

He nods slightly at his brother, acquiescing the point, and considers what's on his mind, what he wants to say - what he wants Sans to hear about. While he thinks, he shifts the detached joint back into place, and wiggles until it feels properly connected again. As much as anything does.

"...It doesn't hurt, but everything feels... less. I'm still my bones, and feeling from my bones, so, it's all a little muffled. That makes sense, doesn't it? It was supposed to make me tougher, and... If it takes more for me to feel hurt, it takes more hurt me, or something."

"Makes sense," Sans says, with the gravity appropriate to what Papyrus is telling him. He tries not to sound disappointed or excessively worried. Trying to talk about this is a game of avoiding things that will spook the other.

"They were basing their work off of the Mother of Invention's chassis. Except that was meant to defend against iron and this is all about defending against spiritual attacks. To protect your soul... it'd have to cut off some of the sensitivity to outside stimulus."

"Theoretically this stuff might defend against iron, too. So, that'd be pretty cool." Because iron sucks.

"So... Stuff like that brand might not hurt so bad... That would be pretty cool."

An undeniable upside, enough to make this a little easier to live with. And if nothing else is reassuring about all this, at least it sounds like Sans knows this stuff. So Papyrus could go to him, with questions.

"...Do you think spiritual attacks could mean, well," he hesitates a few long seconds before clarifying. "Mind control stuff, too?"

"The project obviously didn't make it anywhere near the testing phase, but..." It had happened so close to the break out plan that it was infuriating. "Maybe."

He has to consider it, based on his lofty amount of experience with the subject. There are a lot of factors to consider.

"...Probably depends what kind. How the control is applied. That stuff." He snorts. "Hell. Maybe I should have asked them to do me."

"Maybe," Papyrus echoes, not managing to laugh about it. That answer's inconclusive, but it'll have to be enough, because he's not sure if there's many friendly people to go testing it - and he's not in any rush to, these days. Knowing that he's still himself after, knowing it for sure, makes a difference.

"But they might have said no, anyway, considering." He figures it would've been hard for the Mother to go taking over the Deltas if she imbued them with a resistance to it, unless she included some backdoor access through that visor.

Sans obviously doesn't have any context for that train of thought, but it's not like it seems obscure. He doesn't imagine asking for favours from the Mother would necessarily get you what you wanted.

"Yeah," he agrees, having only really said it for ironic purposes in the first place. "Last thing I'd wanna do is owe her a favour, anyway."

"Um." Sometimes ironic statements are working in two different directions at once, and this is one of those times. A promise isn't that far from a favor, and even the Ringmaster isn't casual about giving gifts and favors. And from what he's seen, she's one of the most relatable fae, in terms of priorities.

"...I mean. I haven't asked anybody very much about fae, and favors, and promises, and all of that... but, would it make a difference, now that she's...?"

He can't quite bring himself to say dead, for some reason. But the process that happened to her at the end looked very definitive, and it's painful to think about, and that alone warrants a significant pause. One that just sort of trails off to silence as he searches for a word that feels right.

Sans is caught off guard because Papyrus seems like he might genuinely be concerned about that as a concept. He glances over at him, his face falling into something more tentative.

"Uh... Well, based on other stuff it seemed like a fae's debts went free when they die for real," he says, carefully. "Like... the Prince." Whom the Ringmaster had been nice enough to take care of. "But... that was a way cleaner job with the RM here."

He trails off for a few moments, considering.

"...Did someone make a deal with her?" he asks.

"I... I don't know," Papyrus hedges, looking a little away from Sans' face. That's the question of the hour, isn't it. Maybe the question of the week. It had been obvious when he made a bargain with the Ringmaster, because he'd actively asked questions about what she could do in exchange for his year of labor, and they'd shaken on it or something.

With the Mother of Invention, she'd been offering a very different deal, before Papyrus talked her around to something else.

"I talked to her, once, and asked her to... leave you alone? And, after a little bit, she promised she would. And that you and I might both die anyway." One hand taps against his leg in an irregular clinking, as he thinks back to that abrupt conversation. "But I didn't promise her anything? Except that I wouldn't use force, against her."

Now Sans is confused because he definitely remembers Papyrus being there in the fight and also using force. He also has no idea when this promise would have happened.

"...Didn't you kind of do that, though? What with the whole... boss fight, laser shooting thing we all did?" He doesn't know what impact breaking a deal with a dead fae would have, but that's a bit worrying. He is obviously missing context. "When did she talk to you? Even as a Delta, I heart squat."

"Huh? No. I mean, I did, but that was... different. It was earlier, and about something else. You... wouldn't remember, it was before the fight." Obviously, because how would Papyrus have talked to her after the fight? His eyesockets shift in an eyeroll at himself, and he leans back a little. It's not a subject he wants to explain but...

"We might as well say," Sistina chimes in, sleepy-sounding but nervous enough about this turn in conversation to be paying attention. "So it's not a bad surprise, later."

But, well. He'd want to know, if it was him. And it's hard to explain the rest of it while dancing around the matter.

"...Uh. So... I heard Yukio and Rita, and all the Deltas, and maybe everybody above them... have things in their heads? And the Mother could possess them, and did, while everyone was preparing." He doesn't actually know if Tyki was ever possessed, but Tyki can go intangible and might've just gotten rid of whatever let the possession happen. "That's when... she talked to a bunch of us. I talked back to her, asking her to please go away."

⇨ POLARIS AFTERMATH

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if the question of sansbot comes up, is this before/after the syr thread? i wanto avoid time paradox

Do whatever you gotta do, I'll figure it out afterwards.

Alrighty, I'll play it by ear o7

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