turned dreams into an empire

[reddosmod]

JANUARY 2023 EVENT

Due to the cyclical nature of Trench, last year's January prompts are available for use. Please be sure to mark if your prompts are from this year or last year to avoid confusion when plotting/playing.

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A dark, cloudy sky over a city street lit by lanterns.]
[Image Two: Dark woods with spots it up by moonlight. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Two, mostly melted candles burning in holders. ]
[Image Two: A spider web on top of sticks and berries. ]

Prompt Three
[Image One: An apple cut in half and clearly rotting. ]
[Image Two: A person lying in bed with their head on their arms. ]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

A NEW CITY

WHEN: January
WHERE: Outside Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Seemingly living buildings, possibly paranoia and/or heavy anxiety, blood, beasts, hauntings

---

Those who continued to charge their compasses will find that they are finally able to go farther than they ever could before. They will have started to glow, much the way the pieces did back in October when they were searching for their other half. There will be a pull towards the new city skyline, urging the holder to explore.

The journey to this new city takes time. For the average travelling group, it would take a week to get to the edges of town. For the fastest movers, it would still take roughly four days. The forest seems to get strangely thicker and denser as the city gets closer, before it suddenly disappears and opens up to brick streets and stone, gothic buildings. The aesthetics are very much like Trench, clearly built around the same time period. However, unlike Trench, this city has been completely and utterly abandoned.

Old, rusted lanterns are attached to the sides of houses, without any candles or oil to light them. At night, the bricks lining the street almost seem to glow, allowing for people to see their path in front of them, but not much beyond it. The buildings loom above, massive shadows with an almost unnerving quality to them. At night, sometimes one could get the strange idea that the very stones of the buildings are alive: are actually moving and breathing.

There's also an unpleasant sound that follows around as the city is explored. A low hum in some places and outright whispers in others. They could be mistaken for the wind or creaking window panes that never got nailed shut. Othertimes, the whispers can become so clear, one would think that there was someone standing right next to them. These clear whispers can only be heard by the person they are directed to. The words will be direct and harsh, usually targeting a person's worst fears and insecurities, memories that still haunt them, or targeting characteristics that they hate the most about themselves. It's like having a personal ghost bully, but they can't be intimidated into being quiet, no matter how hard one tries. Hopefully you have strong self-esteem.

Those who continue to explore the city will find much of it barren and useless. The buildings are overgrown with plants and some even have trees starting to break through the stone floors, leaving cracks and rubble on the ground. Thick vines have taken over many of the streets, dark in color, and they almost look like they're pulsing when they're hit with moonlight. Another interesting thing to note: some of the trees surrounding the city, as well as the trees within the city, house the delicate mushrooms that help the ill Pthumerians. They seem to be in a much larger, more sustainable supply in this city. Maybe it would be wise to take some back home.

There are a couple of buildings that seem like they might hold useful information for those who choose to explore them. One is City Hall, a large building with all the gothic characteristics one would expect: buttresses, arches, spires, and even gargoyles line the edges of the top of the building. Looking away from the gagoyles might make it seem like they're changing positions or their wings are flapping. Inside the building, some of the stone has crumbled and is broken on the marble floors, but for the most part, the foundation seems to have held up. Moss is the biggest issue, coating the walls and much of the furniture throughout the building. Even the cabinets. Opening the cabinets will find mostly rotted and unreadable papers, but some of them look like they could have been town records at one point. Comparing them to records found in Trench will show that the city was founded around the same time, maybe even a little earlier, but there's no indication of when or why it was abandoned.

Another location that can be explored is a library. This building is not as intricately decorative as others, the windows have been smashed at some point, and vines have taken over much of the building. But it was clearly well funded, as the inside is filled to the brim with books. Most of the pages and covers are falling apart, destroyed by the elements over the years, or were shredded by the vines that took over the bookcases. There are still a handful of books that look like they're intact and possibly readable. The language isn't familiar, but for someone who is good with translating, or who has abilities that help them to translate text, they will find stories of varying worlds, just like the Archives back in Trench, as well as a few local legends and folklores. They all seem to be formed around the Pthumerians: one or two mention the Patrons that we've all come to know and... feel something about, prbably not love. The Tower is a common character in many. Another popular Pthumerian throughout is also... Riteior.

Which makes the final location characters may find of interest less surprising: a church that was clearly dedicated to Riteior still stands tall. A few other worshipping areas throughout town also exist, dedicated to minor Pthumerians that are unfamiliar to Sleepers, and whose names have been lost to time. There are also a few alters dedicated to some of the Patrons as well, particularly the Tower and Madam Generosity. But Riteior's church is the largest of them all and the decorative windows made of blood stones show just how important he clearly was to so many people.

There is a door in the back of the church that seems to be glowing at first. It becomes clear quickly that behind it, there is a great deal of red colored light shining through. It pulses gentle, never going out entirely, but clearly having a bit of a flicker to it that could cause some people, especially those with light sensititivies, to have extreme headaches.

NOTE: Currently, it will not be possible to set up a lantern in the new city or near its edges. The city itself seems to be rejecting the possibility. This restriction will be lifted in the near future!

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

TOWARDS A CURE

WHEN: January
WHERE: Trench & The New City
CONTENT WARNINGS: Blood rituals, cursed effigies

---

Going through the door with the light will bring characters into a room that looks like it may have once been a nursery. There are shattered pieces of furniture that were once cribs, toy chests, and kids playsets. They're covered in moss and vines, but some of the wood may be salvagable for those who want it.

More importantly, there is one thing that really stands out here: a large hole in the wall that is filled with pulsing red light as well as swirling clouds of fog. Getting closer will show that the hole leads to the same world that people were being pulled into back in September. This Other World doesn't go to the Other Trench, but clearly an alternate version of this current city. The mirrored side is that of the very church you're currently standing in.

Those who went to explore the library will recall reading in lore about Riteior's powers. The reality warping and world-building like powers were clear, given the existence of the Other Trench, but another power that was mentioned was his ability to use his blood magic to create powerful effegies. These doll-like figurines could be of anyone and were often made of other Pthumerians in an attempt to control them. Legends say the abuse of this power was ultimately what made him unpopular among the other Pthumerians, and rituals were created to try and seal his powers away. The back and forth fighting eventually created the Other World that Riteior was banished to and ultimately ruled over.

There are books in the Other Church that will talk more in depth about his effegy creations and how it was that they were utilized. One form of these effegies created an illness, one that altered the very cells within Pthumerian blood and could be spread to other Pthumerians through close contact. This illness was said to have destroyed them from the inside out over a slow period of time. Many of the symptoms listed will line up with ones that impacted Pthumerians have shared with curious Sleepers, or been observed over the past few months: aches, pains, bleeding, power warping, personality changes, memory loss, brain fog, eventual disfigurement, and ultimately, death.

(Those who read about this might remember that, while he never mentioned feeling physically ill, the Tower's lover, Nevermind, was unable to find the answers to the illness (something he's never had trouble with before) and was unable to pull up much information on Riteior, despite having existed at the same time as him. It seems like he may have been more impacted by this illness than he realized.)

It's clear that Riteior has found a since September to further break the barriers between his Other World and the world the Sleepers and Patrons live in. It's clear he has begun to create effegies of the Patrons. There are a few choices left to the Sleepers with this information. The easiest would be to leave it be. If you hate the Patrons and want to see them die, obviously that would be something that a character is welcome to do. Knowing the outcome is ultimately death obviously can sway some people in this direction if they wish to see the Patrons destroyed.

Some people might argue that this is unwise, considering how much chaos has come from the Pthumerians being sick thus far. They are worshipped for a reason by the natives and long time Sleepers, so perhaps getting rid of them would cause more pain to this world than is worth risking. The next option is to a temporary solution to the issue: find the effegies and destroy them. Characters who choose to go this route can go into the Other Church to enter the world and try and find Riteior's figurines. It may take time, as he could be located in the Other Trench, and it would take the same amount of days to travel in the Other World as it does in regular Trench. Asking the compass to help you locate the effegies will work: it will glow, leading you through the woods, until you find a small building hidden in the trees.

Going inside will show a series of figurines on a table, but they can not be destroyed by typical means. The texts that discuss the figurines talk about a ritual that can be used to destroy them, one that invovles making a mixture that must include a small amount of every kind of Sleeper blood. Then, a powdered form of the mushrooms from the trees must be mixed into the blood until it bubbles, similar to carbonated drinks. This mixture must then be poured over the effigy, which will dissolve as though it has been covered in acid. This will begin to lift the illness from the Pthumerians, who will take time to recover, usually over a month. However, as Riteior can make more figurines, this solution will not help the Pthumerian illness long term.

The last option involves a little more research. The ritual for sealing away Riteior's powers is hidden somewhere in the books in both the library as well as in the archives in Trench. It's deeply hidden, almost forgotten by time. It will be inside a book with a blank cover, a layer of dust on the binding, and the pages yellowed by age. It's handwritten in a local language that hasn't been used in ages, and may be difficult to translate at first, but comes together easily once the cadence is figured out. Magic of some sort has been placed on the pages to stop those who have powers from being able to translate it with them. It will only be able to be translated through good old fashioned research.

Natives will be willing to help, though, and in the end, the translation will state that the ritual again involves using each Sleeper blood type. It must be mixed with rose oil and the ashes from a burned yew branch until it forms a paste. The paste must then be used to draw a swirling pattern on the ground, one similar to a Celtic knot, though it does not need to be nearly as intricate so long as the pattern has no visible beginning or end point when it is done. Afterward, a Darkblood stone must be smashed, and its pieces scattered over it. It will glow a bright, blinding red, before disappearing as though it was never made at all.

This ritual must be repeated twice a month for three months in order to guarantee the Riteior's magic will no longer be able to impact the Pthumerians across worlds.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

ROTTEN TIMES

WHEN: January
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Food poisoning, illness, emetephobia

---

For those who have stayed behind in Trench, Madam Generosity's party is still going off the same as one would expect! It's a good place to go to take shelter from the cold and have a good time. Despite her illness, it seems that Generosity is living up to her name once again.

But when one isn't feeling well, they're bound to make a few mistakes. After attending the party, some people may find that they're feeling less than spectacular. Maybe it's just a hangover? Or staying up too late. Either seems reasonable. But the feeling is a little heavier than that, and it doesn't take long to see that you might actually be sick. Looking into it will bring up a simple answer: some of the food provided was definitely rotten, whether visibly, physically so or magically.

Symptoms will vary from person to person. Some might be able to walk away with some minor aches, a sniffle, a sore stomach. Others could end up having some strange things happen with their blood powers: a Coldblood could get the hiccups and set their porch on fire or freeze their sandwich. A Darkblood might sneeze and unintentionally glitter bomb someone rather than giving a spray of usual spit. A Paleblood might cough and cause the people around them to get a surge of empathy or heavy emotions. These blood impacts seem to be unique to each person and have no bounds. Feel free to create whatever outcomes from it you might wish.

There are also some who may get hit truly hard by the food poisoning in Trench. They will be hit with more classic symptoms, like fevers and chills, vomitting, body aches, and more. They could become weak and vulnerable, needing the help of another to care for them, put a cool cloth on their forehead, fall asleep at their bedside, until they feel better. Classic hurt/comfort is the goal here. You know what to do.

Regardless of severity of symptoms, they should clear up within 72 hours. After effects, such as weakness and dehydration, can last longer, but people should start to feel back to themselves within a week.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Comments

palamedes | locked tomb | darkblood (ota)

[megatheorem]

I. new city A (feat. your friend AU lyctor pal)

[Why Palamedes— this particular Palamedes, that is— has marched all the way out to this city is anyone's guess. At a glance he doesn't seem to be a different person, compared to some; he's wearing his counterpart's clothes after all, although his hair is a bit shorter and less "forgot to comb it again" than usual. It's the eyes that are different, and difficult to tell in the poor lighting: a deeper slate gray than usual, compounded by the near-constant scowl he wears as he moves around the strange, strange town. He doesn't skulk; unlike his counterpart's tendency to shrimp, this Palamedes' posture is rail straight and tightly controlled, giving him a businesslike gait as he marches down the myriad streets.

He is not having fun. But then, has he had fun in a while? No.

The city does not impress him, he takes no notes (another tell that he is Changed, for sure), he merely goes here and there looking at the odd buildings and rolling his eyes when the whispers nudge into his subconscious.

As he rolls up in front of the church, stooping down to look for something on the ground, he can be heard saying:]

Yes, yes, I'm the very concept of suffering made flesh, I know that; I've known that from the start. Unless you'd like to rip me in half, I'm busy.

[A pause. Presumably, there are more whispers, as he then scoffs,] You're monumentally awful at this, you know. She wouldn't have said that.

[And he straightens up from the ground, with a... big rock... in hand, which he hefts curiously. At last he looks at another real, non-whispery person, gesturing with his other hand at the bloodstone windows.]

I'd like a chunk of that. Help me with a spot of property damage, won't you?

II. new city B (AU as well, vague cw for implied intention to harm self)

[This time, he is taking notes, most notably about the effigies, their purposes, various symptoms, and... notes on how to make one? Maybe, perhaps?

He's only halfway interested in the decision that needs making about the Pthumerian effigies, of course; he'll have opinions, maybe, if asked, but he doesn't offer any while he's scribbling away. Likewise he makes no move to prevent anyone from doing anything about them, really, unless you happen to come near something he's looking at, whether that be book or effigy—]

Wait ten minutes or find your own; I'm visibly observing this one.

[Later, he has, uh, tied a bunch of sticks together and stuck an acorn on top, and appears in the process of drawing big circles on said acorn. Oh yeah... this'll work... He holds it up to Consider it.]

Does it look like me?

III. new city (not AU, later in the month)

[Back to the real shit, by month's end, Palamedes (regular flavor) makes his way to the city himself, once he's done being disgusting-sick after the party. He's brought along two notebooks, and after some curious and lowkey delighted wandering around the streets (less delighted when he gets the impression this place is not haunted in the traditional sense), he's set up the notebooks side-by-side to transcribe one into the other.

Well, he'd like to, anyway. He's in the midst of rubbing his face, his glasses pushed up and askew as he does.]

He called me a "funny walnut" in his notes. My own counterpart called me a funny walnut; what am I meant to do with that information?

[And as he continues to try and copy over the... useful notes... he inevitably tosses the pen down and throws up his hands.]

I'm completely useless! He's wasted every opportunity given to him! Pardon me— [you, hello, hi] What are the most important things to know about this city thus far, and can you give me a summary in about 250 words?

[pal.......]

IV. party time

[After all that other self garbo, Palamedes is glad for once to have a big party. He's mostly here to experiment with fizzy drinks (a new yearly tradition) and to watch the talent show performances, given that he isn't much one for parties he can't bring his gaggle of volleyball children to. Still, he's gotten into the spirit enough, humoring the fresh fit he's been magically gifted for the occasion and everything.

Presently, just like last year, he is sitting with a tray of colorful drinks in front of him, considering them deeply. He has a notebook placed to one side, on which he has drawn a chart on the open page and is scribbling something in the margin without looking.]

Now, this one, [he taps a finger against the side of one glass, featuring a Fizzy Pink Drink,] This is my nemesis; I remember her well, in that I don't remember anything else after I drank this one last year. We'll be marking her down as the last drink of the evening, assuming I make it that long...

[If you can read his chickenscratch handwriting, this is apparently what he's writing in the margin next to one of the chart rows. His abbreviations are arcane in nature, don't bother with trying to decode those.

He looks up, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back end of his pen. Hmm!]

Granted, testing my tolerance level to each of these drinks individually is impossible, unless you happen to know of an instant sobriety trick. Which one is the least alcoholic out of these?

[Genuine question. If hanging out with drinks isn't your bag, later on, he can be found with his notebook in his lap and a cup of water cradled in both hands, watching the performances.

Which does not explain why he then says to whoever has come up next to him,] Do you want to hunt for ghosts with me? [and also,] I'm sure down to my bones this place is haunted.

[like why not, right]

V. misc

[hmu at jojoveller if you need me]

sort of i!

[mehanizovati]

You're wasting time humoring it. [viktor sighs from where he's sitting at the church steps. there's not exactly fondness to his tone but the familiarity is there, and maybe squinting it could even seem like normal, their counterparts bickering.] And giving it critique, for that matter.

[to be fair it's impossible not to notice the change in viktor- one arm entirely robotic, more plating up one side of his neck to his jaw, the way he doesn't bother with a cane at all sometimes. pal will know he's done work on his leg and spine, there's just a lot of metal to flesh all around. tubes of paleblood running through the circuitry. pal helped when it came down to the lungs, of course.

no emotion melting lobotomies yet though, so that's a win. even evil pal is a good influence that way.

at the moment he looks kind of bored, which is his default to be fair, given up glancing around to regard pal instead. marginally more interesting, especially if property damage curses him or something. throw that rock, stickboy.

to be fair like. he'll help with the curse if he can but it'd still be more interesting than what they've seen so far.]

[megatheorem]

I don't see why I shouldn't offer critique. It's my life that's being raked over the coals— the final say in what a miserable wretch I am should go to me.

[So there, mean whispers. He flashes a grim smile, like anything he just said is pleasant or reassuring, then goes back to studying the windows.

Would be nice if the guy with the robot arm helped him break windows, ahem...]

You're really just going to watch? Cold.

[But that won't stop him, actually, and he winds up to give the rock a hearty throw at the window.

It dings the bloodstone glass and then bounces off to the ground. Alright. Palamedes sighs like this is a great insult and goes to pick up the rock, shuffling up close to the window to just start whacking on one spot to see if he can crack it open like this.]

[mehanizovati]

Or you could ignore it and let it tire itself out. Giving it potential fuel is just going to make you maudlin and irritable. [matter-of-fact tone but hey, he gets it kind of. pal is the true expert in being mean to himself, it's his right to mock any attempts from outside sources. or something like that. autonomy in this dreadful place.

he does lean his chin on his palm in a very pointed show of just watching. and it is more entertaining than anything else so far, his lips even quirking to a little smirk when it bounces to the ground.

then he stands to walk over, pal's great sigh kind of icing on the cake.] Ah, how are those arms working for you, Palamedes? [there's a good chance the 'i could just make you better arms you know' conversation is a well worn one between them.]

[megatheorem]

Bodiless spectres don't tire out, Viktor. [Please, learn ye some ghost facts (tm). Not that he's sure if these are ghosts or just... entities? But it's got to be the same concept.

And if he pauses again mid-rock hammer to listen to another whisper, well, fine, this time he settles for a slightly more irate sigh and rolling his eyes instead of replying. These whispers will need to do overtime to get what they want out of him, it seems.

Now, after he's given the window a few good whacks, he shifts the rock to shake the tingles out of his hand, ow. Listen here, robo guy... Palamedes reaches over to wiggle his fingers at Viktor, nyeh.]

My arms are maudlin and irritable. And yet delightfully, splendidly fleshy.

i

[umbraportation]

[ A chance to get away from Trench for a bit to explore some new, crumbling, empty city? Nico's in. He wants to check out if there are any dead lingering that he might be able to glean some information from. Plus if something goes terribly wrong, the demigod can always attempt to shadow travel someone back to Trench since they don't have a lamp location here yet.

While inside the church, he hears the familiar tones of his adopted dad outside. Palamedes is talking to himself - not unusual - but there's a serious lack of a notebook and writing happening from what he can see. Nico starts moving towards him and maybe that's what prompts Pal to ask for some help with damaging public property.

He raises an eyebrow at the question and looks towards the window, before fixing his gaze on the rock. ]

Most parents wouldn't be encouraging their kids to take part in vandalism. [ Yet Nico's amused considering Pal has admitted to stealing a chalkboard to impress Viktor. The teen closes the distance and holds out a hand for the rock. ]

[megatheorem]

[The thing about this shedding month, the real kicker, is this: Palamedes (original flavor) did not plan ahead, in the event that the thing that inevitably happened to him was one of these complete swaps. And not just, you know, turning into a skeleton hand for a while.

So he did not leave any helpful notes for his counterpart, who physically stiffens and gives Nico a look like he's just said history's most shocking thing. To wit:]

Parents? [What on earth has his dingus walnut other self been doing around here... Lyctor Palamedes and his ill-suited dark eyes boggle at Nico for another long moment, not entirely sure how to feel about... that.

He settles, although he won't admit it, on 'jealous,' and grimly satisfied that at least one iteration of himself seems to be doing good things in his life. He hands Nico the rock. Now that he looks at this kid for a bit, having skimmed through his original's omni for the very basics...]

You're Nico. [...] I think he would still allow vandalism. The 'other' me.

[Let him abruptly look down for a new rock, cough, hm, well-]

Is he good to you? As a 'parent'.

[umbraportation]

[ Maybe it should hurt, that his newly adopted parents aren't quite who they used to be. That maybe they don't know all of the things that have transpired over the last six months and it doesn't quite feel like the family they've sort of become.

But this is just like finding a Percy who has no memory of him or what's happened between them all because some deity decides to muck around. There might be the smallest tinge of hurt, but it's not so bad that Nico can't set it aside to deal with the more important matters laying right in front of them. ]

Parents. [ A simple question gets a simple answer. He's actually surprised that Palamedes wasn't prepared for this, with all those notebooks floating around. Or maybe that's the problem. Too many notebooks and not enough time to go through them all. There could be one buried in all the stuff Palamedes has in his office set aside just for this type of situation, a situation unwanted enough that a journal is busy collecting cobwebs instead of being front and center.

Nico takes the rock from the not-Pal, and shifts it in his hands to get the feel for it. His gaze studies the man in front of him. ]

That's me. [ A kid who used to wear all black, but now there's a gray shirt laying under his jacket. ] Probably, so long as it was for a good cause.

[ He looks away when not-Pal looks for a rock to join him in vandalism. ]

I think so. Though maybe I'm not the best judge, considering most of the good parents I knew before coming here all belonged to other people.

[megatheorem]

[Parents. Oh god. Plural? He and Viktor, or the other Viktor he supposes, woke up in that stupid ugly house together, did their other selves adopt this teen boy... are there more... are they doing a good job?? The mind races.

He wouldn't, he's sure. Not after what he allowed himself to do to Camilla, no, a teenage boy is not the kind of person who should be in his orbit, but— well. He was just going to mess around and write on his other self's notes, but maybe he should go find Viktor and get the pair of them the hell out of here, for the kid's sake.

Whew. Alright. Another one for his list of things to feel guilty about, while he's in town. Ack.]

I think you would know if he weren't. [A beat.] I'm sorry; you were clearly expecting the upgraded model, and you got me.

[He doesn't even break windows for a good cause! God!]

Well— let's smash a window. You'll feel better.

IV

[good_mourning]

[Parties are very much not Sunny's Thing, but that didn't keep him from being drawn to this one. More often than not he had been hugging the very comfortable pillows rather than doing much of anything else, but he was having a good time, anyway.

The environment is making him feel much more social than normal, enough that when a man he doesn't know starts talking to him, he doesn't just stare. He'd just come up to watch the talent show, but the idea of ghosts was intriguing.]

Yes. I would like to hunt ghosts. [There was no need to sell Sunny on this. He was in.]

Why do you think it's haunted? [He thought maybe you could just tell sometimes. There was the time in headspace he was sure that a kiddy pool was haunted for seemingly no reason. And it was. This was probably the same.]

[megatheorem]

[Oh good, a kid with taste. Palamedes is always ready to do a little ghost hunting, and the party's atmosphere and at least one fizzy drink only compel him more. Plus, he likes ghosts! It's a shame his Sanctuary ghosts can't come all the way here to this party, although it's not the best spot for a doddering old man and a little girl—

So: additional ghosts. He holds up his hands to Gesture, pointing around the room for emphasis. He's connecting the dots.]

I'm very good with ghosts. Plus, this is a building with a massive bloodstone hanging on the front, and that seems like it should attract more spirits than your average place in this city. I've encountered ghosts in far less odd places around town.

[...And,] Also, I've been here before, and I swear to you: I've seen spectres in the backrooms.

[At a distance, but ghosts are ghosts.]

[good_mourning]

[Sunny watches Palamedes gesture around the room intently. He is totally buying that the dots are being connected. There was for sure something going on here. There were ghosts and they were going to find them.]

I didn't know bloodstones attracted ghosts. [Important information to store away for later. In case he needed... to summon ghosts maybe? Who knew.

All of this tracked to him, though, and he nods.]

Let's start in the backrooms then. [He doesn't know how to get to the backrooms, instead he looks over at Palamedes to lead the way. But also-] Do we need any equipment? I've seen ghost hunting shows, but it's probably different here.

[megatheorem]

Well, maybe. [Maybe they are just rocks...] But it's too large not to have attracted something, I figure. There have to be some ghosts attached to whatever process they used to lash all of that blood together, even if by accident.

[The mystery of the giant bloodstone has eluded him for a whole year now, and he's kind of given up on it, but "maybe ghosts" is a good place to get back into that particular headscratcher, maybe.

Also, it'll be fun. He gathers his notebook and takes one last swig of his water, gesturing for Sunny to follow him towards the backstage door. Sleepers are absolutely allowed in here, for the performances, but they'll have to sneak through to the backrooms from there.]

I don't need equipment. I'm a necromancer— all I need is a marker and about ten minutes. You'll see; I've perfected my sigil to help the ghosts here communicate without interference.

[A beat. Actually, as ghost hunting shows are not even a thing where he's from, hm,] What kind of equipment were you thinking?

ii

[necroprince]

[Tear looks at the effigy that Palamedes is clearly making, raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms. It's been a while since she saw him, she honestly wasn't sure if he was even still alive after Canaan House.

Now he's trying to make an effigy of himself, like it's that simple. There's something more feverish and miserable about him now - even when he'd never liked her he always carried an air like he thought he was better than her. Morally, intellectually, you name it. Now he just looks sad, like a miserable puppy that's been kicked repeatedly.

She can't pretend like she doesn't find it a bit satisfying.]

No, it looks like an acorn. With badly drawn tits for eyes.

[megatheorem]

[Honestly, is there any greater compliment than "thought you were dead (but you arne't)," no there isn't. Not that Palamedes is privy to this thought, and not that he shares it himself— he levels his feverish and miserable gaze at her and furrows his brow; the last time he saw her was... well, back around all that Canaan House misery.

Well, whatever. He looks at the face on his acorn effigy again.]

Rude. My eyeball tits look fantastic.

[So there. Now, he's curious about the relative differences here, but...]

This is the least like shit you've ever looked. Congratulations.

i.

[dohaeris]

[whatever group sansa was exploring with has come across a library and, deeply missing adaine, she has set out to locate a trustworthy researcher. she was very glad to find palamedes in the temple, but the absolutely rancid vibes she normally associates with john gaius and his hangers-on is startling. she glances to lady at her side, but lady only whimpers sadly.]

Lord Palamedes? We found a library.

[she glances at the window in question and sighs. this seems like a job for darkblood magic, and palamedes should have more of it than sansa. nevertheless she walks towards the window, removing her gloves and tucking them in her belt over her coin pouch. she clutches her fancy lambskin stole tufted with dark and pale bloodstone with her left hand.

both her hands and her face have a lot of silver scales and lotion on them. it's fine.]

I think perhaps I might be able lift it out of the frame, if there aren't any magic protections on it...

[she eyes the bottom edges of the window for any bits of dark bloodstone that might be able to help her in this. of course it's perfectly possible there are spells designed to keep people from doing this, or people might have stolen the bloodstone already. unless they were trying to being respectful of riteoir? it would really help if someone more practiced in magic could sense what spells were on the window, perhaps by touching it...]

[megatheorem]

[—Palamedes doesn't recognize this person. Not that he expects to, the only person he and his counterpart seem to have in common is Viktor, and his better self did not anticipate an inopportune shedding; there were no notes. He's cobbled together plenty about the other Palamedes' daily life, but not nearly enough to recognize his people on sight - why, after all, would someone write down their social circle's appearances, when they see them daily...?

So. Lord Palamedes, she says, and his brow furrows just slightly, because that's different. Someone who respects the other Palamedes, he figures, which is just bully for him, isn't it. He looks back at the window.]

I'm breaking it. I don't give a damn about the frame or the protections.

[Maybe that was not clear........ he's breaking stuff. That's the goal.]

...What's in the library?

[dohaeris]

[well, usually palamedes can be counted on to appreciate artistry, although it is only riteoir's temple...however more importantly sansa has no idea if breaking the window will trigger a ward or curse, and she has no idea how to protect them from it. first however;]

A lot of very old books, in a language that none of us know. I was hoping you might have a spell to translate them, but I thought you might like to look at them either way.

[she glances back up at the window, sighing gently. lady strides forward and stands on her hind legs to sniff at it.]

I could break the window, but I don't know that I can break any wards or curses on them. If you could do that, then I could get the bloodstones down for you.

[it's something she thinks palamedes could probably do himself (with less effort), but his manner is strange and he smells deathly so she's not going to push it!!]

ii

[lipochrome]

[ In a few months, Bomb will be sent to the zombies' inner sanctum on behalf of the Blood of Eden, where she will pretend to get cozy with the zombies and then break into their tomb. It doesn't occur to her, however, that this guy is a zombie, because he's not flinging evil death magic around. He just looks awfully thin and sad, but that's not uncommon on resettlements, anyway.

Bomb looks at the doll, and then at the man, and then at the doll again. She shrugs. ]

Mister Acorn-Head looks like he does better with the ladies. Pretty hardcore of you to make an effigy for yourself, though.

[megatheorem]

[There's a moment, looking at this woman who is definitely in some respects Gideon Nav, where Palamedes feels - well, nothing, actually. But he knows that were he not so wretched and sad, he would probably feel something like envy, for how she is walking around and not condemned to be wrapped around Harrow's soul for eternity.

Luckily, he is just wretched and sad, and she doesn't seem to recognize him anyway, so he doesn't bother to worry about it. The other Palamedes with a full, rich existence can worry about that.]

He just might; I haven't tested that maxim, yet. Or any of the others that come prepackaged with these effigies, before I've finished. But you see the resemblance.

[He holds it up next to his own face as he says this, deadpan. It's an acorn with eyes, so like. Yeah, honestly.]

I'd offer to make you one, but that seems untoward.

cw: self harm discussion

[lipochrome]

[ It's awesome not to be a part of Harrow's soul. There is no universe, surely, where Gideon Nav would ever want that. ]

Yeah, it looks enough like you to fuck you up.

[ That seems to be what this weird dude wants to hear, so Bomb doesn't sound especially sad about it. She isn't, really. Instead, she's confused about this guy who can use untoward in a sentence like he's a teacher. ]

I'll pass. [ She doesn't want to get hurt by some creepy doll, thanks! ] We could always test the maxim before you go and fuck yourself up. Or, like, you know, do anything else. Do you really have that much of a death wish?

[ There are people like that in the Blood of Eden, Bomb knows. They get really into guns, or trucks, or ships, or anything that isn't themselves. Bomb tries not to think about them too much. ]

cw: self harm discussion now with reference to suicide

[megatheorem]

[Lucky, he doesn't have to explain. He continues not to explain himself in the slightest, replying with only a simple:]

No.

[Which is, in a roundabout way, the truth; he's looking for options for a very different end goal. One that is not, in fact, to blow himself up or anything like that. Who would do that.

He looks at the little effigy as if expecting it to say something to him, like all the other persistent fucked up voices whispering in his ear in this place. He wonders if that would be a good sign or not, if it did; some sign that it's an effigy that has somehow absorbed the appropriate magicks. Give him a moment...

Eh, nothing. He sighs, acorn doll drooping in his grip as his shoulders sag.]

Maxims, then. I'll warn you in advance: I've been told I am an "eminently sour, no-fun miser."

iii

[knows]

[In Trevor's opinion it's an apt descriptor. Especially with the way he's being accosted now.]

Well, there's no monsters to fight so even walnuts like you will be fine.

[Safety is the most important after all!]

There's a library over there-- [He gestures in a direction away from them.] that you'd probably like providing you're good with languages. [It's also very clear Trevor does not include himself.]

Oh, and if you see any tiny effigies, do me a favour and leave them alone.

[megatheorem]

[Ah, the judgment... Palamedes knows that, despite his best efforts at living like a real person for the past year in this place, he will always look like he's been eating saltines in a locked room for most of his life - which is true. So.]

Fair hit. I could crush a monster's heart by looking at it sternly, in my defense. I'm not entirely a walnut.

[But he's probably at least semi-walnut. He turns to look in the direction of the library as if committing it to memory, frowning again - his other self did not write down anything useful from there, if he went at all. That's walnut behavior, surely.

As for the effigies, there's a tragic-looking stick man made of acorns and twigs in one of his pockets, from his other self's... odd attempt at something or other, so,]

You want the effigies... left alone? What happens when they aren't?

[knows]

[Trevor nods along, either what he's saying is true and he knows magic in which case it wasn't smart to antagonise him or he's bluffing because he knows he's tragic and there was no reason to deprive the man his pride.]

Life goes on same as always. They seem to be something from a fight between the pthumerians, you'd be involving yourself with them.