| Without warning, the silvery light that appeared to bring new people from other worlds and old items from home appears once more, and this time it lingers, forming portals as tall as an average human near each of the three Ingress shrines. The location does not appear to be a coincidence; this time, the portals are translucent, revealing the destination on the other side. Instead of taking Avagi's residents to the future, it will take them to another world.
If they step through the portal, travelers will find something far different from where they've been living this last month: Kaittos, a peaceful world containing one large land mass and a scattering of lived-on islands across a clear blue ocean. On the mainland, a large city-state occupies the central region and southern coast and resembles what some travelers from some versions of Earth might know of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Bustling and lively, the city is clean and well provided-for due to the temperate climate and the bountiful natural resources found on its northern side; orchards, farms and forests extend into the distance, butting up against a small mountain range. The technology level is low compared to Avagi, with carriages and candles in place rather than cars and electric lights, but the craftsmen of the world have managed some very impressive mechanical feats.
Kaittans, the local residents of the world appear somewhat humanoid, but the bipedal race has hooves rather than feet, silvery skin and three eyes with vertical pupils. Although there is no sign of any other sentient species in the world, the locals are nonetheless excited to meet their guests, rather than suspicious or afraid; for some reason, they are not surprised that aliens exist, merely that they are here.
In the weeks to come, the stabilized portals will provide a respite from the more confined lifestyle aboard Avagi. Travelers are warmly welcomed and encouraged to explore the land. Some things they'll find include...
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With all their material needs taken care of, the civilization on Kaittos has come to highly value cultivation of the mind. The city itself is full of what can only be generalized as culture. Theaters, art galleries and sizable libraries can be found on every tier, but what they offer is not contained by their walls. Street musicians appear on every other corner, artists are easily found sketching at beautiful viewpoints or interested passersby, and people are as likely to find themselves pulled in to participate in a scene or improvisational performance as they are to witness one. Public debate and rhetoric are also valued, with credit given for style and clarity as much as substance. At the center of the city, a large conservatory teaches lessons in many fields to anyone who cares to study.
This love of culture is so encompassing that visitors who wish to acquire items or resources will find that culture is also the main form of currency. To get something, they will have to give something. Those with skills that fall into traditional arts and culture could offer a piece of art, a music lesson or participation in a debate with other philosophical scholars, perhaps. But visitors will also find that the locals have a deep hunger for information and wish to learn about other worlds; if they can offer nothing else, sitting down with a scholar to record a tale of folklore or an adventure from their own. Lessons in whatever skills they possess are likely to be eagerly sought after, although the aptitude to learn them may not be there.
For those who wish to gain resources or make purchases, a bartering economy does exist to a degree, but it is difficult to break into, as there is little that the locals would truly need from their visitors. The exchange of knowledge is much more prized. Keep in mind, though, that while the Kaittans are not ungenerous, they have an eye for value—the more precious something is, the more travelers will have to offer to earn it, and individuals have their preferences. What might be just the thing desired by one could be pooh-poohed by another.
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While many on Kaittos see food as the fuel that keeps their bodies going so they may better cultivate their minds, others see cooking itself as an art. This is especially prevalent in this section of the city, located deep in the heart of the city, where chefs toil over new recipes and experiment with new ingredients, serving meals free of charge—unless you consider sitting through a lengthy survey afterwards to be a payment, of course.
Although some meals are unpalatable or even dangerous to human bodies, most can be enjoyably consumed. However, around one in five chefs make extensive use of a particular herb that is incredibly delicious—and somewhat addicting. Those who begin to develop a dependency will visit again and again, and the more they consume, the more they may not want to leave at all...
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Spoken of in hushed voices, this section of woods is regarded with great caution. A space of around ten acres is home to many natural springs that form natural pools between copses of trees, many of which hang dropping branches with deep blue leaves over the surface of the water. If asked, the locals will say that this place is where some very old Kaittans—which are an extremely long-lived species—who have decided they've studied everything available in the world and mastered every skill they can, go to "renew" themselves. They prefer to speak of it in vague terms, as specific discussion of this choice is seen as something of a faux pas. If greatly pressed, it is possible to learn the details ahead of time—but difficult.
The truth is that the water of the springs, when mixed with a chemical secreted by the fallen blue leaves, represses memories of those who drink it. Not to the point of complete amnesia; a sip might do away with the recollection of a particular book that was enjoyed, while multiple glasses might hide the memory of a longer period of time. However, there is no control over what is forgotten, or how much is too much. The Kaittans who grow too frustrated with what they view as stagnancy drink to forget so they may have the joy of learning all over again, but the lack of control makes it a risky choice—and some continue to return to drink after they otherwise would have, as they have forgotten what they wanted to forget.
(Of note to those of the psychic persuasion: memories affected by the spring water are not utterly obliterated, but merely deeply sublimated. It is possible to retrieve them, but it would be a challenge, especially if the placement of the memory gaps are not obvious.) |
| While Kaittos’ architecture and culture includes plenty to admire, a few points of interest stand both literally and figuratively above the rest. Three large pyramids tower over the landscape, shining the brilliant metallic blue of a local ore. Over the coming weeks, these structures will be adorned with temporary murals and hangings—apparently, a yearly celebration is approaching.
What kind of celebration? The kind, fortunately (?), that visitors are welcome to join in! November 23 marks the anniversary of what they call the Great Awakening: a visit by a powerful spirit that opened their people's awareness to worlds and cultures outside their own. For the next few weeks, the temples offer welcome to anyone who wishes to participate in their trials. On the day of the Awakening, all who succeed will experience a remnant of the spirit's gift. While descriptions of the process vary, all center around heightened awareness: of each other, and of worlds and places far beyond their shores. Those who decide to make this attempt may choose which temple—and which trial—they would face.
Trial of Life
A test for warriors and scouts, this trial is not recommended to the casual. On entering the temple, participants will find themselves in a maze of obstacles and passages, struggling for survival against dangers both mobile and environmental. To succeed, they must pass inside with no more resources or weapons than can be carried in two hands, and survive for a period of five days. The attackers and hazards within the space are phantasms generated by the temple: solid enough to harm or kill, but prone to re-appearing even once a region should be cleared.
Needless to say, extensive warnings will be given to those expressing interest in the trial. Most who attempt do so in groups, and teamwork among participants is readily encouraged. Those who need to leave early are welcome to do so, but fleeing does count as a failure.
Trial of Communion
The inside of this temple is divided up into a series of open booths. Participants are assigned a station, and will be approached by members of the local population with various disputes that require arbitration. The purpose of the trial is twofold: to assist others with their problems, and to test those making the attempt—in patience, debate, and their skill at resolving conflict through the use of words.
No authority is granted to those taking this test. None of those who come before them are obliged to listen. The participants will be presented with conflicts that have been saved up through the year, and required to work out a solution. This can include anything from property disputes to marriage arguments to literal children's squabbles. Breaks are allowed for food and basic rest, but otherwise, those taking the trial will need to spend five days in continual discourse for the sake of others. Those who give up on any problems brought before them or resort to violence in solving them are considered to have failed the trial.
Trial of Healing
The third temple presents no dangers, whether to one's life or to one's sanity. Instead, it serves as a medical center. Those stepping inside will experience a strange peacefulness and sense of comfort—one the full-time staff confirm has helped many patients to recover. While this temple is open throughout the year, the weeks preceding the Awakening are nonetheless a time of gathering: when healers of all disciplines will come together to assist those in need.
While doctors or healers are welcome to share information with their peers, no special skill or training is required to attempt this trial. Instead, participants are asked to spend a period of ten days doing whatever work is required to assist the sick. While most of the ailments brought to the temple are longer-term in nature, it also functions as a triage center for those harmed in the Temple of Life. |
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thisavrou_log2017-11-09 08:50 pm
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[There's a note of something almost like admiration there, or...perhaps approval would be the better word for it. He's learning, albeit slowly and painfully and excruciatingly and not well, but he is adapting, they should hope.]
[God only knows someone ought to teach him the way things are around here.]
I suppose I could slit my own throat and resurrect a few days down the line, plus or minus some psychological or physical damage to compensate. But, unfortunately, that option is rather off the table.
[They have promises, so many promises, still to keep.]
[And miles to go, still, before they sleep.]
Answer me this, now: if an adult were the one telling you that same little tidbit of information, would you be listening then?
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Though...a small part of him is pleased that the other person somehow sounded approving. Eddie might not like this person, but he was a twelve year old and so, so many twelve year olds just wanted approval. Even if they never admitted it.)
You probably still feel pain though. Unless you specifically don't. (Because with those eyes flashing like that, Eddie is now at least aware he's not dealing with a human. Or at least not a full human.)
Why's it off the table? (A genuine question. Chara seemed pretty adamant about the death thing. They seemed the kind of person to do whatever they wanted to do as well.
Eddie's brows furrow together before he stares down at his shoes.)
I don't trust adults.
(He admits this because Chara, to him, is at least a child and all children know that adults cannot be trusted.)
I know they lie and twist words to get what they want from someone. They're good at making sure kids know who's in charge and how to make demands.
(He's talking about his mother, a feeling that burns open a hole in him wide and raw. Eddie is trying, he really is, to get out of his cyclical conviction of his mother's lies. It's just. So hard.)
...But sometimes I lie back to adults. Because it makes it easier. You know that though. (He's gotten pretty decent at lying to adults, and he thinks Chara would understand. What kid doesn't?)
I think I'd be as doubtful with them as I am with you, but I might act otherwise because some adults won't leave you alone until you say what they want you to say. Like when my mom asked if I understood why queers burn in hell and I said I did. I really only did because I knew she wouldn't stop asking me until I said yes. Adults do that all the time. They know what answer they want, they just want to hear you say it.
(Eddie shrugs his small shoulders and sort of just picks absently at the edge of his shirt. That's a lot of talking, but Eddie did that a lot. Spouted endlessly when someone got him going.)
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[A fluid shrug. They have too many people here that would...frown upon that thing. And it is not their own life that tethers them here, not when said life has never truly been theirs to begin with. Why would it have been?]
[Pain does not scare them. Not once they've experienced what they now use as a reference point as the utmost extremis of all things related to the field of agony.]
[He speaks, and let it not be said that Chara does not listen. They listen, as is their proclivity. Again, there's a glint of something suggesting a small inkling of respect for that pronouncement of his: I don't trust adults. Everything of what he says is true, completely and utterly, and his willingness to admit it speaks volumes.]
[It is not until his words reach a certain point that their eyes narrow to scarlet slits, and a muscle in their jaw twitches as the smile slides away like oil on water.]
Your mother told you most of what you regurgitate to us now, did she?
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(He'll at least admit his ignorance there. However, there's a hint of respect on his face. If there is anything in the known universe Eddie can appreciate- it's a promise. And if this person can make and keep promises then maybe they're not so bad as he originally thought.
Weirdly, pain doesn't scare Eddie too much either. Breaking his arm had been cathartic, actually, giving him some sense of scale for himself. A grounding experience if there ever was any.
There's a big, fat pause, Eddie's mouth working open and shut and he chews around his tongue. There's something foul and uncomfortable twisting its way around his gut. He quickly nods, says nothing more.)
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[His mother, then.]
[His mother teaches him this. His mother tells him all the ways in which he could die, and his mother teaches him that he is fragile and cannot be allowed to live beyond the scope of the bubble she forms for him, and she tells him where kids like him should be burning if he does not comply.]
[Their smile twists into something uneven.]
She was wrong.
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Yeah, I guess.
(Definitely, rather.)
She did lie to me about being sick.
(He confesses this, but he also decides to be upfront otherwise.)
But I think that wound up making me sick in other ways.
(His eyes slant to the side before drawing back to Chara. He wonders, for a beat, if this person was going to hold that over them and mock him for it. Could he even blame them? Sometimes he lay awake at night feeling like such an idiot for believing her all this time. Other times, he was still caught up in believing it all. Twelve years he's been this way. Twelve years. That didn't just go away.)
...What's your name?
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[Their gaze drops to it at once, tracing the stitches and threads of the fabric. They know that cloth. They know it, because they've watched it snap in the chill Snowdin breeze, a sine wave of unfolding scarlet beneath the sharp lip of bone that formed a skeleton's tall, grinning skull.]
[They'd watched it dissolve into dust in a streamlined hiss of gray, and drawn back Frisk's hand, gloved in pink leather crusted with the white grit of countless monsters beforehand, flexing each finger into a fist and then out again.]
[Does he know what he holds? Did he - ]
[No. Sans would not relinquish for any reason. He gave it to him. Possibly permanently? Did he simply hand it over to the first child he saw? At what point did he stop scraping at the edges of his own raw, blistered sentiment and begin forking it off to lost and forsaken-looking SOULs? Why could he not have reached this point sooner, when there was a child who desperately needed it, trembling there in the ice and sleet?]
[It grows, briefly, hard to speak. And they could mislead him, they could lie, they could cement their status as an untrustworthy and unreliable narrator even further, but instead - instead, they do not.]
I am Chara.
[Simple, and unadorned.]
You fear her. Your mother.
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His humanly possible was actually quite extraordinary when he was inspired.
It is not something Eddie takes for granted. And Sans hadn't given it away shallowly. Eddie might not have been a child lost in the cold and freezing, but he certainly was a child lost to something --.)
Chara.
(Eddie mouths the word with his name. It's strange and in its strangeness Eddie realizes that Chara is being honest about it.
He staggers a bit, for some reason, at the idea of being afraid of his mother.
Was he afraid of her? Eddie Kaspbrak was afraid of many things. But there were two things more intimately horrifying to him than his own mother, one glaringly obvious to anyone who heard him uttering about diseases, and the other more tucked away, deep enough that he himself was oblivious to it.
So what, did that fear extend to his mother?)
Maybe a little. I'm afraid to disappoint her. And I'm afraid to become like her. I don't know if I fear her the same way people fear--clowns.
(He doesn't know why he chose 'clowns', it slipped off his tongue and hung in the air like a bright, glaring, red red balloon and he zones out for just a second.
It fizzles away.)
It's complicated. Because I think I still love her, but I don't know what to feel about her, and I don't know-. It's hard.
(Wording it is harder. He doesn't talk about his feelings much and he feels awkward, embarrassed a little. So he diverts- but with honest intention, because since they started talking less like people comparing dick size and more like human beings, he's become curious about something.)
Why do you want to die so bad?
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[Possibly. Too much of his demeanor suggests something they cannot wholly ignore, in part because they find it too pointed, too akin to a blade slipped easily between the ribs and used to lever away the pieces of them. It's never as simple as fearing something the way one might fear spiders, or heights, or the dark.]
[He's afraid to disappoint her. So what does it make him, when he no longer has to perform for her benefit?]
[He changes the subject. They do not elect to FIGHT it at the present time. Their smile is still too uneven, not nearly as poised and plastered-on as is typical, and they cannot for the life of them discern how best to correct it.]
Because things tend to come away from me broken, and I think it prudent to attempt to mitigate that damage.
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Adults were abnormally gifted at fucking kids up.
It's a strange smile, Eddie notices, a little different than the one before. He's still holding that scarf, but not quite as tightly.)
I...I don't know what "mitigate" means. Or "prudent". Unless that means the same thing as prude.
(He admits this with a flush, his vocabulary still quite limited, but he's doing his best.
But he does understand what broken means, what the rest of what Chara is saying means.)
That's kind of silly though. I mean, nothing is ever someone's complete fault. If a rock breaks a window, it's because something threw it. It's not the rock's fault.
(Does that make sense? Eddie's not used to this sort of thing. Chara was a real jerk to him, but he somehow senses they've shifted past that and truth be told, he's had people far crueler to him than Chara was.)
Besides...If you're aware of that, then I'm sure death isn't the only way to change stuff. Why not just think about what you say more? Or what you do?
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[They would do anything to file away the pained edge to their ever-present smile.]
Do you think I've not tried? It seems that I am simply a lightning rod for the misfortune of others. If that is to be my role, perhaps I ought to stop combating it and accept it for what it is.
[Accept that it is truth, complete and genuine. Accept themself to be the demon that comes when people call its name. The fallen child. The increase in a number. LOVE. EXP. HP. GOLD.]
[That's me.]
Unfortunately, it also seems that you are correct in your observation. Even death will not have me.
[Because that, too, they've tried.]
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Eddie twists the toe of his shoe into the ground, feeling the awkwardness of a kid who doesn't know how to handle emotions bigger than himself. Except Eddie is good all the way through his core and he wants to - to something.)
That'd be like me saying I should just give up and let myself be sick like my mom wants.
(The funny thing is, they'll both go back to this at some point anyway, won't they? Eddie understood the difficulty of changing your fundamental self. It wasn't so easy as doing this or that. Still, he was trying to relate, trying to encourage.
Eddie bites at the corner of his mouth before instantly releasing it. Chewing your lip can cause heart failure, Eddie.
Instead of saying, he does. Eddie shuffles forward and opens his arms up and wraps them around Chara. Just does it. Thinks to himself the safe, enclosure of arms around him. Not his mother's arms, but arms that belonged to faces he no longer remembers, arms that made his entire being ache with loss and love and so many more feelings than just what could be named out of a dictionary. He squeezes those feelings out into Chara.)
I'll be your friend.
(It...Isn't really a solution or a piece of advice. It's nothing, maybe, to Chara, but for Eddie, friendship was one of the most valuable pieces of the universe wrapped up in a neat, little package. And maybe if Chara had one good friend, they might feel like they're a little better off in fighting what they couldn't help.
So, maybe death wouldn't have Chara- but Eddie would.)
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[Does he feel obligated? Did they trick him into feeling sorry for them? Is this - a trick, too, in some manner or another? A trap, meant to tear the rug out from under them so he can laugh? It would be easier if they could pin that upon him with any ease, press the label of some sort of puppeteer, some masterful manipulator, upon him and threaten him thusly, mocking him for believing they could truly be that stupid.]
[But he is too earnest. He is too open about his uncertainty, not yet learning to lacquer his own will over it - or simply choosing not to.]
[They try. They try to smile, to flash a blinding neon red sign of nice try, but you won't have me that easily, and skewer it through every word and every opportunity and every extended hand. Just let him believe them to be what they are! A jerk, a cruel person, a bully, a demon, someone that no one would want to be friends with!]
[And yet.]
[And yet, between the unwillingness to question the authority in his life, the simplicity of the pronouncement, something about the offer twists in their chest like a splinter of ice.]
[The question bursts from their lips in a startled, uncoordinated burst, far from the careful, eloquent speech they so favor.]
Why?
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Eddie had a soft spirit, but he wasn't nearly nice enough to fake something like this. No one told him he had to hug anyone. He just wanted to do it. It felt right to do, felt like maybe it was something that Chara could use.
No, Eddie doesn't think that Chara is such a jerk anymore. He thinks he meant things he said earlier, sure, but at a different angle than just someone who wanted to be mean for mean's sake. There was more here than just cruel bones stitched together in a crueler skin.
Eddie squeezes tight and doesn't let go, not quite yet. It's actually really simple when Chara asks like that.)
Because I don't think I can trust adults, but I'm pretty sure I can trust you.
(Maybe Chara would lie to him in some ways, that was okay. Eddie really didn't think that Chara would lie to him in the ways that mattered. He lets go slowly, resting his hands just on Chara's shoulders, his expression somber.)
I think we're kinda similar. And you...understand the situation with my mom better than a lot of people. And I think, maybe, I can understand what you're talking about too. (A beat.) You keep your promises. Good friends keep promises.
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[He ought to be running scared of them by now. Did they not trigger some manner of...of panic or dismay or disgust, or something that caused him to stop responding? Did they not annoy him into a state of absolute irrationality? Is that not all they are best for? Why is he trying now? Are his standards that low for himself?]
[Were it any other moment in time, were it in the wake of any other thing...]
You don't mind the fact that, as I've just stated, I tend to irrevocably tarnish those in my general radius?
[Or does he already believe himself broken?]
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Eddie laughs, but it's one of those weirdly gentle laughs, the kind that breathes its way out rather than shakes its way out. A good, nice laugh without a single edge of mockery to it.)
I think I can handle it. And hey, we're friends, okay? So if you mess up, all you need to do is apologize and it'll be okay. I mess up too, I make mistakes.
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[There's such an ease with which he says it. We're friends now. Despite the scope of his fears and his anxieties regarding the world, there's something so very - Asriel about it, and perhaps that's what wrenches at the pit of their stomach. Perhaps that is what makes him so very difficult to deny at face value.]
[He laughs, and it's as genuine as he is, devoid of the sharp splintered-glass edges that too often color their own fits of mirthless mirth.]
I cannot say I understand these feelings anymore. [And they can feel safe in admitting it, because he has admitted to uncertainty as well.]
You are a peculiar child, Eddie Kaspbrak. Though I cannot claim that to be a bad thing, at present.
[Chin up, Eddie. That might've been the nicest thing they've said to anyone here.]
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Eddie just shrugs, still grinning toothily in his way.)
It's cool. You don't need to get it. Just feel it.
(Was that so bad? Eddie could learn from himself, really, but most people were hypocritical in some fashion. It was almost impossible to avoid.
It's not an insult, honestly, mostly because it doesn't sound like a bad thing even before Chara confirms it isn't.)
Yeah, well you're pretty peculiar too, Chara. But I think that's okay.
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[Perhaps they've simply not encountered enough children liable to take that ACT as it comes. They are too far out of their depth and they've no way of reversing any of this without raising more questions than they'd prefer.]
I feel I ought to warn you that the last time someone declared me his friend, he died rather horribly.
[Which is why they blurt that last part out so gracelessly, as if that might make any of this easier for either of them to bear.]
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The warning gets Eddie to raise a brow and he gives Chara a most serious expression. Except it's a childish kind of serious, almost joking, but not quite.)
I think I'm predetermined to die horribly with or without you in my life.
(He's sort of making a joke, but the cruel irony was that he wasn't actually wrong. His life was destined to be short and miserable - not that he knew that, of course.)
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[Then a smile snaps evenly across, short and sharp and unmistakably amused.]
That's the spirit.
[So. First things first. In an abrupt shift of subject that might not seem perfectly logical, they move on.]
Do you carry a weapon?
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I try to be realistic about suffering.
(Eddie can joke about things, about himself, and actually he's quite snippy and has plenty of come backs when he's dealing with kids his own age. Adults were another story.
It might not seem wholly logical, but considering the subject content, it isn't shocking either. Eddie does blink though because him with a weapon?)
Um. Not unless you count my inhaler.
(Ha. If that wasn't an unintentional loaded statement- not unlike his death.)
Do you carry a weapon?
(He would not be remotely surprised if they did. They seemed the type.)
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[That's not much of an answer at all. As if in response, they cock their head before slipping something out from their pocket. It's a shiv, something improvised and pulled together with tape and glass and softened with cloth wrapped around the handle. It's exactly the sort of thing that he's probably always been warned would give him tetanus.]
[They hold it out to him regardless.]
I'd not recommend wandering around an unfamiliar world such as this unarmed. I was not exaggerating when I said there are plenty of things here capable of your destruction.
[Did they not make explicit that they were always the creeper on the network trying to intimidate him? Well, in any case, they may as well make it transparent.]
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(No, it wasn't an answer, but he gets one anyway. The shiv is at once intriguing to Eddie. He's never seen anything like it. It was a lot different than the small handguns they used on all the Westerns he liked to watch. It did unnerve him because it looked like the kind of thing a homeless person would use, so he doesn't instantly touch it.
But after their conversation, after Chara talking to him about his mom, Eddie felt that crisp sense of courage only his friends were ever capable of giving him. The courage to step out of his comfort zone. So he takes the shiv gingerly by the cloth wrapping and examines it close up.)
I don't even think I'd be good at using anything.
(Eddie believed Chara fully. He just felt like him fighting back would be useless. He has no memories of Pennywise, doesn't think about how he has fought awful things before. He holds the shiv back out to Chara.)
What would you recommend? (He might not have confidence in himself, but he won't deny trusting Chara on this, that he should have a weapon.)
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[If they're surprised that he takes their advice and accepts the weapon, they don't immediately show it. They'd expected at least a token protest, but even that much is foregone in favor of a genuinely intelligent question.]
[They tap their fingertips across their hip once, twice, in a short spurt of contemplative motion before answering.]
I'd recommend learning. [They make no movement to take the weapon back. They do, after all, have plenty.] There are plenty here that would have no aversions to teaching you to defend yourself - and if they do, then they clearly have not been here for very long.
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