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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, I couldn't say." Papyrus says, trying for loft and unaffected, but not quite hitting it either. "There weren't any clocks handy, that I could see from in the tank. They probably just tracked it on their visors."

The view in the lab had been pretty sparse, and the chemical solution guiding the metal to cling to him hadn't been translucent. Most of what he'd seen were white walls, and glass revealing the technicians at work. Some of that time he'd been distracted by staring at his brother - right there, involved, and so seemingly unaffected - and some of it he'd spent doing his best to ignore everything.

The colors and reflectiveness aren't quite the same, even in this dim light, anyway. And they were more obviously different back in the hallways in Polaris. Which suggests, maybe the process had been different, too.

"It... felt like hours," he finally concludes. "I slept a while, after. How... about you?"

"Ughhh." Lambert groans, rolling his shoulders back. "Took them a few days. Not all at once. Guess because there was more in the way." He unconsciously voices the thought Papyrus had earlier, when he says that, though he doesn't pause before he continues on, tone deliberately light. He's better at that, at least, than Papyrus is -- but no matter how cocky his voice is, his face is much more haggard than that.

"Pain in the ass, though. Made it hard to get any sleep, between the stress tests and being on the table."

"A few days..." That's concerning enough that Papyrus squints a little at Lambert's face, and it's light enough to catch things about his expression that belie the good cheer...

But, well, Papyrus is far from the only one of the carnival who pretends to be well even when not. It's a time-honored technique for not dwelling on things, and trying to trick one's mind into being better. He's not about to challenge anyone else for doing so.

He scratches at the back of his neck, fingers catching on the recently thickened spinous processes. "Do I want to ask what 'being on the table' means...?"

Lambert blinks, and in equally time honored tradition, gives Papyrus an askance look before deflecting the question with a question.

“You don’t know? What’d they do to get you like that, then?”

It doesn't involve opening him or mysterious and troubling tabletop shenanigans, so it's already an easier subject than Lambert's story seems likely to be. Papyrus shrugs, perfectly willing to answer it without deflection.

"I... had a nice long soak, in something that wasn't quite water. It felt a little bit shocking, but, not too painfully. And they kept me under for a while." Too long for Lambert, obligated to breathe as he is. "And then these covers on the joints, after, but that didn't involve a table? Just one of those 'beds'."

"Hm." The witcher's grunt is noncommittal, evidently deciding how he wants to respond to that particular piece of information (then again, not responding at all might be a perfectly fine course of action too).

"You gonna keep it?" he asks, instead. Not that Papyrus is likely to have a choice about it, but he's curious if the thought's even crossed the skeleton's mind at all, or if he's taken for granted it's something that he doesn't have the option of removing. Lambert lifts an arm, grimacing down at it. He will, however, explain the particular source of his dissatisfaction to Papyrus--

"S'heavier with all this metal. Throws my balance off."

"Oh my god, right??" Papyrus bounces a little in place, like it's meant to be a hop but isn't quite making it. "I feel... easily twice as heavy! And my blue magic's so much less effective. But..."

He glances away. It's crossed his mind, but given Sans' experience with an unwanted tail, it doesn't seem likely.

"Well, it's supposed to be tougher than my bones. That was the whole point, I think. Which means... that could get rid of it, could get rid of me, too?" Likely Lambert's facing the same dilemma, unless Peridot's metal powers are fine enough to remove shavings at a time. "I don't want to waste dying on trying to get rid of it. And I'm not sure what would be safer!"

Lambert gestures at himself, lips quirked.

"Do I look like know anything about running experiments to you?" More like an unfortunate lab rat, obviously. "Guess if it's not killing us, it's fine to keep it like it is."

Papyrus obligingly considers Lambert's whole roughed up appearance, unhappy even with that quirked smile, and slowly nods.

"I didn't want to comment on how you're looking right now... Though, I know you're smart, in various ways that have nothing to do with your looks. You might know something. But that isn't what I mean!" He waves his arms, gesturing to hold on a moment.

"...What I mean is... There's a lot to do, and we don't know enough about all this to fix these things safely... And, I don't know how much we can trust the technicians we're rescuing, for them to do it. But I want to think about fixing it in the future, if we're still... uncomfortable with it. There's nothing wrong with wanting to try," he says, like he's convincing himself. "Or trying. But... maybe now isn't the time. So, we have to keep it, for now."

"No," Lambert echoes a bit distant, "I guess there's nothing wrong with that."

He can certainly think of one person who'd be happier if he could go back to normal, that's for sure. He reaches up to touch one of his horns, then seems to think better of it, lowering his hand.

"One thing's for sure, I'm not getting my horns back," he jokes. "At least not unless they'll grow back if these get taken off. Or maybe they're still keeping them in one of those laboratories."

Morbid thought as it is, it’s exactly the horror of it that makes him laugh — the idea of his horns being kept in a jar like they’re something more special than essentially something grown out of his head. Maybe he should try to look for them, he thinks, shape them into something less horrific. Instead, he covers his mouth to stifle a yawn, glancing at Papyrus.

“Hey ... if you don’t have anywhere to be for the next hour, can you keep watch while I meditate?”

Edited 2018-12-08 16:24 (UTC)

Papyrus nods along, otherwise not really responding as he tries to put his own thoughts to rest. Being divided in two really put into perspective how much he tries to push away, and there's some of the same want to escape this going on with the metal coating, but pushing away his tendency to push things away... would just get silly in fractal ways.

Plus, it sounds like Lambert already has a good plan for his horns. There'd been talk of exploring through the station for supplies and to help free the rest of the people in it, and the Nightrunner would surely be among the people searching. Lambert can ask people to lookout for his horns, or not, as he prefers. Later, by the sound of it.

"Hmm. You want me to keep lookout... while you, basically, sleep?"

There's likely a distinction to be made between meditation and sleep, somewhere in the fine lines of kinds of unconsciousness, but from the outside? They both involve someone sitting still for an extended period of time. Similar enough for his purposes.

"I can do that," he says, snickering a little. "I have lots of experience with that. Do you want a heads up, if anyone specific comes by...? Or just if a big fight breaks out, again?"

“Basically, yeah,” Lambert agrees. The finer distinctions of organic body functions would probably lost on Papyrus, so he won’t bother to elaborate. Especially not when explaining one is inferior to the other might lead to unwanted concern.

“Just an hour or two should be fine. If ...” he hesitates. “If Childermass or Sans come looking for me, just give me a shake.”

And with that, he settles onto his knees, hands gathered on his lap, brow furrowed while he tries to find his equilibrium. Trouble is... it’s pretty hard to find. Lambert tries for at least ten minutes, minutely shifting his weight from side to side as he tries to settle down, before he finally gives up with a curse.

“Dammit... this isn’t working.”

There's no sign of either two of them, and no cause for shaking, so Papyrus is left to his own thoughts as he looks around them for signs or sounds of people coming by.

Ten minutes is long enough for him to try recalling the distinctions on his own, thinking back to Portland and those fragmented memories. By the time Lambert stirs and grumbles, all he's pulling up is some magic-related meditation that the other Papyrus dabbled in.

"Do you need some... quiet music playing? Or incense?"

His voice goes uncertain, because he doesn't have any of either on him, and it's not clear how he could help.

Lambert squints at Papyrus -- where did that come from? -- then snorts, shaking his head in negation.

"Honestly? Wouldn't help much. Always hated incense, and music's just distracting."

He needs to rest, though. As much of a fan as he is of pushing on regardless, he's burned too much energy and doesn't have the adrenaline to keep this up without crashing hard. And while Papyrus might not have either of those things on him, there is something Lambert can think of that he could do.

"Wait ... you used something to knock Sans out before, right? In Eden?" It had been a footnote in a larger story, granted, and Lambert hadn't pried for details then, but it seems relevant now. "How?"

Everyone has their own methods of trying to get to sleep, or most everyone. Papyrus isn't exactly bothered by his insomnia, though if he had a physique or stamina closer to Alphys or Sans it might cause him some problems. But this isn't one he's thought of offering to people.

"Oh, that? You know how I... From Wismuth."

Papyrus grimaces slightly. He's gotten more used to using it - if anything, he's rushed to use it in certain sorts of panic situations - but there's still the reminder of how he got it, and some of how he first used it, coloring his feelings about it.

"I can make a dust that puts people to sleep. Other people. It works very quickly on small people! Beetle Sans was about as susceptible to it as people come. But I'm sure it would work on you, if I put a little effort into it...?"

“I mean, I’m really hoping for something that isn’t permanent, so I hope it doesn’t work too well,” Lambert answers dryly.

“But even if it does, at least I’ve got two chances of coming back, not just one. Might even be nice to get some time out in an egg.” Sorry Papyrus, it’s Lambert; he had to get at least one shitty joke about accidental deaths in.

"That's not funny," Papyrus groans, grimacing even worse. "It doesn't... That's not how it works."

Most of the time. Sans' situation was an exception, for a bunch of reasons that don't apply to Lambert. He rubs at his eyesockets with his fingers, lightly enough the metal only squeaks a little bit, and his shoulders sag.

"Even if you need the sleep, I won't make it strong enough for comas. If something happened, I would feel very guilty, and throw a shitfit, and maybe cry a little." This is all understatement. "So that won't happen! But I can do it so it's just sleep, or even just sleepiness."

“Aw, you’d cry for me? I’m touched,” Lambert winks, but there’s a tired edge to it nonetheless, a strain that comes with exhaustion.

And he does want what Papyrus is offering, sort of. He runs a hand along the bones of his new tail, picking at the golden circuits that now thread through the dark metal.

“A sleep without dreams,” his tone is quiet, more measured when he says that, and his gaze is fixed at a point far away, not Papyrus. “Do you think you can manage something like that?”

Even with his mind haunted by vivid images of what could happen, if the sleep dust went wrong, Papyrus snorts at Lambert's continued bantering. It's an obvious joke. Not only because of the wink, but because there's surely no question that Papyrus cares about people.

The tiredness is going around, to the point he's considering finding a place to settle for a couple hours, himself.

"Well... Probably," he hedges as he thinks the clarified request through. "That power... was all about dreams, sleep was just a helpful side effect. It would be easier to make happy dreams, than no dreams. Are you sure you wouldn't rather...?"

He asks, but shifts his weight, and starts focusing on making a sleepy dust bone - as dreamless as possible.

Lambert pauses and frowns, thinking about it.

“I never knew that’s how it worked.” He didn’t think much about anyone else’s powers in Wismuth in general. They all seemed pretty arbitrary, thematically. As for the matter of whether he wants happy dreams or not ... there’shesitation in his expression, but also curiosity.

“If that’s easier for you to come up with, then sure, I’ll take it.” A pause. “I don’t want to be knocked out for longer than a couple of hours. You think you can manage something that specific?”

"Of course I can," Papyrus lifts his head, imaginary nose in the air. "I've used it a few times since then! Choosing how intense it is, is more straightforward than trying to take dreams out."

If he were being entirely honest, almost every sleep-related use he's done with it was for the purpose of knocking people out quick and hard. Pretty much always for knocking out the mind-controlled. His fine control with magic in general, what with bones and blue magic, mean he should be able to control the sleep duration, but... There's a little doubt to his fronted confidence, and he glances aside.

"And, if nothing else... I can come find you to wake you up."

It's not the most reassuring of track records, but if nothing else, Lambert's got faith Papyrus hasn't got a single malicious bone in his body (when he isn't being swayed to his dark side, anyway). Even if said bones are plated with some mystery metal, now.

"Guess that makes me feel a little better." Lambert smirks. "So, how do I use this?"

Now that he has a clearer idea what to go for, Papyrus finishes focusing on the magic, and the silvery dust congeals into a bone in his hands.

"You don't have to use it at all, unless you want to." He scrapes a finger along the bone, and brings it up to reveal dust clinging to the tip. "It works on contact. And it crumples easily, I could just toss it on you! Or, give it to you, to toss on yourself. I went for 'sleepy' instead of 'instantly unconscious'... but you should probably be laying down."

He's reasonably sure that's how it will work. There's nobody swaying him to the dark side, to the best of his knowledge, and he put his best effort into fitting what Lambert wants. If nothing else, a positive experience helping here would improve his track record - and encourage him to offer the magic to others.

"Guess there's only one way to find out."

Which Lambert takes as his cue to lay himself flat out on the rock he's been sitting on, settling his chin on crossed arms as he settles on his stomach.

"Let's give it a shot. I'll let you do the honors -- be gentle, it's my first time."

Edited 2018-12-16 07:13 (UTC)

"Oh my god," Papyrus complains, recognizing the phrase for the innuendo it is. "Do you have to?"

He means making comments like that, but also means laying on the rock instead of finding a softer space to sleep. Living life as a monster hunter must involve a lot of roughing it. Papyrus will stick to comfortable bedding, thanks.

But it's a clear invitation to proceed, so he crouches down where he can check Lambert's face for signs of anything going awry, and tosses a bunch of the dust onto him.

⇨ POLARIS AFTERMATH

back in the saddle again

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