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

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.

Papyrus isn’t generally in a position to see Lambert falling asleep, even considering the relatively short time they spent as roommates. Most of the times the skeleton has encountered the witcher he’s either on ‘rowdy’ or ‘murderous’ mode.

Lambert blinks slowly as the dust settles on him, ears tipping forward and back lazily — and the he finds himself compelled to yawn as sudden, inexplicable exhaustion settles into his bones.

“Wow,” he mumbles. “That’s really the stuff.” Despite Papyrus’ opinions on the relative merits of sleeping on stone, the witcher seems to have no problem relaxing on it, and it’s not long after his eyes flutter shut that he falls off into real sleep, chest rising and falling quietly.

It's true, Papyrus doesn't have much firsthand experience with Lambert dozing off. The occasional time of
finding his once-roommate already asleep didn't count, either... so the closest relevant mode he's found Lambert in is 'drunk and lounging', and that escalates to 'rowdy' often enough not to be a useful reference.

Still, he sees the sagging relaxation and closed eyes, and recognizes these as typical signs of sleep. Despite being on rock... somehow.

"Well, it looks like that worked!" Papyrus tells the sleeping man, then considers their surroundings. By the campfire, well within Ignatius' watchful presence, with a couple of other people around... There's time enough for him to slip up to the station for that quick shower, and be back before Lambert wakes back up, but he promised to keep lookout for an hour or two in case of certain visitors. The shower can wait a little longer, he decides, and sits by the fire to enjoy the warmth.

The witcher's quiet for the hour or two the magic lasts, occasionally twitching in his sleep, the faintest of smiles on his lips. When he wakes, it's slowly, reluctant to let go of the dream, blinking sleep dust from his eyes.

Rather than say anything immediately, he rolls over so he's flat on his back, staring up at the sky, a wistful, longing expression on his face.

By the time Lambert starts shifting around again, Papyrus is fighting back yawns of his own.

"Are you, uh, waking up already...?"

The sleep dust has nothing to do with it, besides the contagiousness of sleepiness when around sleeping people. It's mostly just that the long day has caught up to him, and there's a mattress on the edge of the camping area that's calling his name.

The sound of the skeleton's voice makes Lambert stir, sitting up and drawing his legs to his chest.

"... Yeah," he says, after a moment. And then he realizes how Papyrus looks like he could use some sleep of his own, and he smirks, some of the thoughtfulness clearing from his face.

"And you look like you're falling asleep. Seems like you could use some of your own medicine."

"Oh, it wouldn't do a thing for me." Papyrus vaguely waves away Lambert's joking tone, and his jaw clicks a little as he tries to hold back another yawn. "But... I might nap, myself."

For politeness' sake, and to reassure himself, he lingers to ask a few more questions.

"Did you sleep enough? You said an hour, but that was the kind of sleep that does enough for me."

“I don’t need much,” Lambert assures him, though it’s mostly a lot of bravado now that he has the energy for it. The rest seems to have done him some good, if nothing else — he’s alert again, clear-headed and bright-eyed.

“The dust worked just the way it was supposed to.” He pauses, and then has to ask: “How much of that can you make and how long does it keep working for?”

Papyrus isn't the skeleton for tracking microexpressions and exact tones of voice to suss out what people are really thinking, so he takes Lambert's word closer to face value. Either it's true, or it's close enough to true that Lambert's managing to fake it. Either way, it means he helped. Really helped!

"Well! I could make enough for the whole carnival to nap. This isn't as strenuous as some of my other magic. But..." He grimaces, thinking back. "Unfortunately... I don't know how long it lasts. Or if it can be as strong as it was, uh, in Wismuth."

Not that they need it to be comatose-strong, out of very specific situations. "I saw some news reports, people with the full dose could sleep for days... but other people safely cleaned the dust up, a day or two later? With no effects?"

⇨ POLARIS AFTERMATH

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