[Your consciousness drifts in to the sound of discordant whispers. It sounds like a hushed argument in another room, something you can't quite catch. You're cold. Your skin tingles slightly, and then...]
[...you wake up lying on a cold, flat surface. Your skin is covered in beads of condensation, and the room is full of a thick, swirling, chilly fog. There are the dim shapes of trees all around, and you think you can see the silhouette of a grand castle far away. But it's hard to see your hand in front of your face, let alone where the road is. You're tired. So tired...]
[ Jupiter is here because of course he is. He gets up and yawns, rubbing at his face. Though it would be easy to just stay still and drift back to sleep, it'd be uncomfortable and he has a Thing He Needs To Do. ]
[ It's hard to see though... so let's take this one step at a time. He heads towards one of the tree silhouettes. ]
[ the fog, the fatigue—waking up like that—each of those things is unpleasantly familiar enough in its own way that the urge to shut his eyes again is a lot less compelling than it could be. he sits up before he can think too hard and talk himself out of it and shakes as much of the water off of him as he can, like a dog.
his hearing is pretty good; are those voices coming from any one direction in particular? ]
[... nap or investigate? He's so curious. But nap. ... but investigation.
Eventually pushes himself up, stretching his limbs to try and push his body into a more wakeful, active state. The only thing of immediate interest is obviously the castle ahead! So, he starts in that direction.]
[You enter an entertaining room fit for the richest of nobility. Chairs and chaise lounges and intricately carved tables dot the marble floor, with fine rugs and lamps of glass so delicate it seems it could only have been formed by magic. And in fact it must be magic, because some of them hold free-dancing lights in the shapes of birds and butterflies and other pretty things, casting lovely shadows on the mural-covered walls. A huge mirror with a carved frame hangs on one wall.
It's a place meant for the wealthiest to relax, but it also seems warm, inviting, lived in. A tray on one table contains a large pot letting off steam, a fire crackles in the big fireplace at the end of the room, and outside the windows is a scene of gentle winter snowfall.]
[The landscape is dim in all directions, an unnatural darkness lit only by a strange sooty ambiance that seems to come from nowhere in particular. The floor is black sand, and scattered throughout are huge, monolith-sized shards of mirrored glass. In the distance you think you see a castle, at the end of a cracked stone path.]
[You enter an opulent hallway, lit by ornamental magical lights fashioned after fireflies. The use of magical decoration is near excessive, tapestries and curtains over the walls that make everything seem ephemeral and light, beautiful, but never quite reaching the point of gaudiness -- just absolutely indulgently gorgeous. Servants move back and forth, in smart, fashionable livery, carrying trays of drinks and light food, trinkets and clothes and letters. There are several doors on the hall, most open, and the sound of conversation wafting from some of them, and from the seating areas in alcoves along the way. But while it seems like it should be a happy place, there's an oppressive air of hushed tension, only some of it directed at the big, closed doors at the end of the hall.]
[How revoltingly nostalgic. He stops in the first open doorway to look inside, ignoring the servants and the beauty and the sickening feeling crawling up spine. It's all so very familiar.]
[You are suddenly in a small, round room. There are windows, just big enough for a petite person to lean out of, and they show mainly the sky -- you are very, very high up. In here is a small but cushy bed, a bookcase, a desk, a vanity with a round mirror, and a vase of flowers just beginning to wilt.]
[You are at the bottom of an old stone well. It's dry, maybe just decorative to begin with, just damp stones and moss and a little puddle of collected rainwater in the middle, but the sky, sunny and blue, seems unreachably far away. You can hear voices in the distance, joyful and plenty -- it sounds like some kind of party is going on up above.]
[There was a beautiful palace garden here. Now, the flowers are all burned, the statues toppled over, stones that ones lined flowerbed strewn everywhere and little puddled of melted metal here and there. While there's still a smell of ash and charcoal, things have been swept out of the way of walkways, a cleanup effort begun, and it's clearly been a few weeks since whatever tore this place apart.
You sense a great wrongness and uncertainty seeping from the whole place.]
[Wow well I hope getting the child out of there wasn't the wrong thing. He sets the kid down and rips off his own sleeve, making a sling and wrapping it around Ariel's neck, settling his arm in it then taking his good hand.]
[You find yourself entering a bar, the kind of slightly seedy location found in excess in the less savory part of any town. Where there needs to be entertainment and a certain lack of ethical scrutiny is wanted, this is the kind of place that crops up. It's not a dirty bar, not terribly smelly or grimy, but people speak slightly hushed, the lights are low, everything is simple and the architecture deliberately casts as many shadows as possible. The servers flirt with customers, the bartender gives out very basic drinks, and occasionally someone slips upstairs (generally not alone) or out the back door.]
[You find a slightly dusty filing room full near to bursting with file cabinets and shelves full of archive boxes. There's one desk near the window, papers piled on its shelves but the top empty aside from a well-kept lunch bag. The utility of the room contrasts the well-built walls -- this used to be a very fancy room of some kind, in the not too distant past, but it's been converted to a functional and half-forgotten space now.
A doorway in the back seems to continue into further storage.]
[You enter a foyer. You're in a house, a tidy house, well-kept, in good taste. It looks like a house that belongs to someone of decent means, not wealthy but doing well, who cares about appearances. You can see a kitchen and a living space, not modern but certainly not medieval, and while things don't seem monied they do seem like someone takes a lot to time to keep them nice.
There is a faint smell of cinnamon and sugar from the kitchen.
There are three doors off of the main space: a solid door of rich dark wood, a plain white door, and a light wood door with a carved frame.]
[You're in a room of all glass. The walls are glass, the ceiling is a mirror, only the floor is cold marble. Scattered through the room are hollow glass statues, delicate and fragile and as large as a person, of animals and plants and faceless people. They sparkle in the sunlight coming through the walls, filling the room with refracted light, white in some places and rainbows in others. It's beautiful -- but also seems like it could be destroyed in an instant.
There's the door back inside, and a door to the outside.]
[You're in a cafe, in a bustling city. It's a lovely day, the sun is shining, and doors open to a pretty patio with comfortable shade and small tables set up. The patrons and staff inside have features that seem to shift, never staying the same, but they seem cheerful. There's a big chalkboard on one wall listing the specials:
Independence Love Justice Dreams
and on another wall, an oddly undecorated full length mirror.]
[You enter a void. In it hangs a single doorway, and a single unadorned full length mirror, facing each other a few paces apart. One of these, you came from, the other, you could go to. The ground is flat, a fine white sand. Otherwise... there's mist. Seemingly endless mist that makes it hard to see very far. But unlike the fog in the place you started, this seems charged with energy, taking on shapes and then letting them go again, as if trying to become something -- anything -- but unable to, quite, do so.]
[You go through the exit, and you disappear. You feel disconnected, as if you're nowhere and everywhere at once, seeing nothing but seeing bright lights, hearing nothing but hearing cacophonous sound. You're disoriented and out of place -- and then you land. You're no longer transparent and any cracks you gained have healed. You find yourself on a stone floor, in a wide room with empty seating along the walls. It seems to be some kind of arena, including a large circle with arcane symbols inscribed along the edges. But it's a fancy room -- this is a place for proper duels. And in the center two people are in fact fighting, but rather than a magical duel they're just... arguing.]
smoke and mirrors
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no subject
[ It's hard to see though... so let's take this one step at a time. He heads towards one of the tree silhouettes. ]
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his hearing is pretty good; are those voices coming from any one direction in particular? ]
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no subject
Eventually pushes himself up, stretching his limbs to try and push his body into a more wakeful, active state. The only thing of immediate interest is obviously the castle ahead! So, he starts in that direction.]
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the drawing room
It's a place meant for the wealthiest to relax, but it also seems warm, inviting, lived in. A tray on one table contains a large pot letting off steam, a fire crackles in the big fireplace at the end of the room, and outside the windows is a scene of gentle winter snowfall.]
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[ So Jupiter goes for the one thing that seems out of place: The window. Wasn't outside completely different? ]
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the queen's wing
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[He wonders if he could light it on fire.]
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[I mean obviously bottom of a well no one could exactly be hiding but. There's voices. Can they hear him?]
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You sense a great wrongness and uncertainty seeping from the whole place.]
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What happened here?
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the bar
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[Looking around from the entrance just to get an idea of the flow of activity.]
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the archives
A doorway in the back seems to continue into further storage.]
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the normal house
There is a faint smell of cinnamon and sugar from the kitchen.
There are three doors off of the main space: a solid door of rich dark wood, a plain white door, and a light wood door with a carved frame.]
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the glass room
There's the door back inside, and a door to the outside.]
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a quiet afternoon
Independence
Love
Justice
Dreams
and on another wall, an oddly undecorated full length mirror.]
Re: a quiet afternoon
[Going to the counter.]
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[He looks around, still holding the kid.]
What do you think of this place?
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???
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