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etrayalogs2025-01-17 12:09 pm
etrayamods) wrote in etrayalogs2025-01-17 12:09 pm
JANUARY MINGLE
WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: January 17th - January 23rd
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers and some new construction!
NOTES\WARNINGS:
WHEN: January 17th - January 23rd
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers and some new construction!
NOTES\WARNINGS:
 ⏵ arrival ⏴ Welcome to Etraya! Arrival goes as expected - characters awaken on hospital beds and are offered an explanation of their situation: that they have arrived in the city of Etraya, and they are their world's only hope. They are welcome to wander the hospital if they would like to - the upper floors are mostly empty, full of pristine hallways and numerous rooms filled with supplies, cots, and things one would expect from a relatively average 21st-century hospital. A coat rack is situated by the doors leading out of the hospital, covered in warm clothing that fits the new arrivals just right - whether it's to their preferred style or not is something else entirely. Some of them appear normal enough. Others? Well. Looks like someone was trying to improve on last month's designs. Outside the windows, the grass is covered in a couple of inches of loosely packed snow. We hope you enjoy your stay.  ⏵ passion for fashion ⏴ As the newcomers find themselves leaving the hospital as per their usual arrival, they will find that not too far from it is a small boutique. Newly added, just as they have been, though they lack the context to know this. Companion bots will encourage them to go in and meet the particularly unique bot inside, dressed to the nines in line with the fashion the boutique itself is offering. While small, it's clearly been decorated to emphasize the loose era and taste of the particular fashion it's advertising. The building itself is also petite, and made to feel more personal rather than a commercial experience. It has a single dressing room, and outside of it has an area with mirrors where one might take in their lovely visage from nearly all angles. There is a little waiting area with seating in the front, for those who are not being molded through Theobold's vision, or simply waiting for whoever is. The tastes and aforementioned era of this little establishment is decidedly Victorian, with a bold splash of neon trimming, cog-like adornments, and other accessories that brighten up the otherwise neutral fabrics typically used in the style of dress. Theobold, as he has named himself and will not let anyone forget, has taken to a three-piece suit, a deep emerald in color, with a black vest, and matching black gloves. He will take it upon himself to judge each person's attire (which he will unabashedly hate), then restyle them into something more along his tastes (even if it takes him a while, he will find something you don't ruin). There are, of course, many different combinations to pick from, all hearkening to a very loud style of dress that seems as much neon as it is punk or steam. One might even name it steampunk with a splash of neon. Neon Steampunk? Something like that. An interesting combination to say the least, Theobold insists as much. This is, of course, not simply limited to newcomers, though they will likely be exposed to this boutique more quickly than the others. Any who come near the general area of the hospital (thus the boutique) will find themselves being encouraged by the other bots to come inside, and they will likewise be judged and restyled to Theobold's tastes—which are as bright as they are bold. He really doesn't take no for an answer, though he can't truly stop anyone from leaving any more than a pushy grandmother fussing over her grandchild's clothes might. He has obviously discovered his passion, why not indulge him?  ⏵ trending or treading ⏴ After enjoying the privilege of being restyled by Theobold, he will also insist that you take the outfit for a spin around the city! See what people say, take note of how many looks you catch, how many eyes are on you. He wants to hear about it as well, clearly to validate his own artistry, and who can blame him? Does not every artist strive to hear a little bit of praise for their hard work? Do they not yearn for recognition from the public? Theobold may be a bot, but he is also an artist honing his craft! His boutique is not above critique, though he hopes the critique isn't too harsh... Should one indulge him, telling about what others thought, he will gladly gift the outfit to the wearer. A humble act of his endless generosity! Or if they fancy another outfit of their own taste from his boutique, then that will suffice as well. Even if it breaks his heart that you don't like the outfit. No, no. It's fine, really. It's perfectly okay. Everyone has their tastes, and yours just happens to stab him in his mechanical heart. He'll get over it. In time. Probably.  ⏵ leaving tracks ⏴ Companion bots have taken to building train tracks, as well as what appears to be a train station, in the South Eastern island of Etraya. The area is, for the most part, blocked off from Etrayans. After all, it is a construction zone, and the companion bots are ever vigilant with safety. At least they try to be. However, if people wish to lend their aid in the construction, well, they won't necessarily stop them. However they will assure them that they are not in need of assistance, and might intermittently remind those especially helpful Etrayans of that fact. Those who wish to simply watch the construction may do so, but nothing especially interesting is going on beyond the mystery of what this these tracks and the station might be for. Besides a train, of course. After all, since when has there been any mention of a train? Asking the companion bots about it will yield little results. They won't be able to give any further details besides the obvious: when this is done, it will be for a train. It seems even they might not know the full extent of what this entails, or maybe they cannot say. Regardless the reason of their lack of explanation, it seems patience might be the key to the answer. Some may notice that in the area Gorgug's friend had gone exploring outside of the environmental bubble, there is a message written on a massive piece of fabric, which is tied to two large rebar poles. The message is in an alien language, but the earpiece will automatically translate it: DID YOU THINK YOU WERE THE ONLY ONES? On the bottom of the fabric are four vertical lines. Every Friday, a vertical line becomes crossed through with a horizontal one. For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. |
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[He frowns a particularly anguished frown, Sevika touching on a nerve. It’s easy to see it that way. The banners, the zeppelins, the speeches, the … everything. But someone needed to represent it all. They couldn’t have two faceless creators to world-changing technology. At some point, someone was going to have to step up, and Viktor didn’t want to.]
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[ He will close the book with a snap. ] Titles, glory, none of that is particularly important to me. I do not care about that. The work and the good that it will bring to Zaun is what I choose to focus on.
[ He was perfectly content to hole himself away in the lab. Given his race against time, where else was he supposed to be, what else was he supposed to do? A sigh as he looks at Jayce and then back at Sevika. ] Given the current state of our conversation, you can see why I, ah, choose to not have that particular position in our partnership.
[ Dealing with the council day in and day must be exhausting. Even if their worlds were slowly drifting apart back home, Jayce straying ever so slowly away from their original dream, their purpose, buried under the burden of the council and the increasingly unstable climate; Viktor looks back at Jayce with something akin to gratitude in his eyes, perhaps? The parties, the banners, the speeches. All taxing and yet Jayce worked through them and put himself through it for their dream. He couldn't imagine himself and his bluntness being particularly welcomed or helping the situation. But also he has never been welcomed in Piltover, an outcast since the very beginning. ]
We have our parts to play. I simply chose the one I excel at.
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[ Not Jayce's fault, then, even if the anguish that ripped across his face told her he thought the same. He really is too easy to read. What happened, she idly wonders to herself, to change him to how he was the one and only time they'd actually met? It's almost depressing to think about, but only almost, because there's something else she's found to be mad over instead. She does, of course, rein in the antics. There's no yelling, no storming up to menace them face-to-face, just... ]
You know what? I was wrong. You don't think you're better than me after all because you've bought into how they see us, too. Hiding because you agree with them, that you're just some more trencher trash no one will take seriously.
[ No interest in titles, no interest in glory? Please. More like no interest in attention, no interest in stepping out of the shadows. Now, she does take a step towards the two, though only to give further dramatic motion to her pointing an accusing finger at Viktor. ]
What good has any of your work brought Zaun? How many years have passed? Years where our people could have looked at all those posters and banners and seen themselves on there, with you, Talis' equal? How many topsiders would have had to concede that we can make something of ourselves besides miners and criminals and bums? How many kids could you have inspired, even sponsored to go through the academy just like you? But no?! You didn't want the titles! Or the glory! Or any of the damn influence that would have come with it?!
[ She drops the arm again, a sneer crossing her face. ]
Keep your damn work. We don't want it.
[ On that note, Sevika turns to step back over to where she'd left the book on motorcycles and their construction. She's going to take that with her no matter what; like hell she'll let how sour this encounter has left her feeling to keep her from that. However, she does turn towards the two one more time to hold it up. ]
And I'll be sure you eat my dust when I do convert one of these to chemtech. You know, without fucking it up like the idiot you think I am.
[ But that's the end of it. She's leaving. She has no desire to stand here and debate with them further since it would only upset Jayce more and more, and if Viktor continued to seem so uncaring about the situation? Well. This could have still ended in violence. Thus, Sevika chooses to stomp off instead, disappearing around the end of the stacks and heading for the library doors. ]
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His “hogging of glory” still wasn’t enough to buy him the privilege he would need to ensure Viktor would go without judgement in social settings. They both knew it’s just the way things worked in Piltover. Viktor was sparing himself from the gossip articles and disparaging glances, and Jayce would use some of his natural charisma to handle getting the acceptance and funds they needed to pursue their dreams. It worked well enough. Until it didn’t. Until the constant attention started to chafe, and Viktor started to disappear more often, not just lurking in the shadows, but vanishing entirely.
There’s an unspoken conversation that happens when he catches Viktor’s look. He recognizes it, the silent thanks, and Jayce gives back a look of his own, a soft smile. He’d deal with a thousand irritating aristocrats if it meant Viktor could have his own peace of mind.
But Sevika didn’t get it. When she takes a step closer to point at Viktor, Jayce instinctively steps in front of him, as always the defender. ]
Do you actually want answers? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice when you’re tearing someone down?
[She doesn’t seem like she’s actually going to give them the time of day for this, as she gets through her accusations, and immediately starts to leave. Much like Silco, she’s not interested in hearing the other side of it. She just wants to get her frustration out, and fuck what they had to say in return, because it wouldn’t be good enough, would it?
So Jayce doesn’t argue back further, just lets her get it out and leave. She’s clearly more interested in losing her other arm in some sort of motorcycle-themed accident.
He waits until she’s gone, turning to Viktor to see how he's holding up.]
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
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He was tired of fighting for seven grueling years for what he believed in, fighting his disease and its ultimate end, fighting to try and bring hextech to his people but stopped at every turn. She did not ask about that, or care to hear it, but Viktor had always been adamant about using it for others but each time it was denied or pushed aside for other frivolous endeavors.
Hextech was theirs, true, but it was not. Underneath it belonged to the council and through their whims they decided what was best for their pockets more than anything else, it certainly was not to help people. Stray from that and Hextech was no more. Viktor knew this but what was he to do with it? His hands were tied behind his back as he watched his dream and his life wither away.
What exactly did she expect a lone Zaunite to do, whose very presence in the face of the council got sneered at and disregarded at every attempt to speak, who had no name, patron, or presence? Before Jayce he was stuck as an assistant and would have been forever if not for the other. That is how little his life has meant to these people. It's all so easy to take at face value the things he could have done, to pin the blame on him, and expect him to be some glorious savior to his people. As if his proposals to sponsor children of Zaun, to have him plastered on banners, or blimps, or mugs, would be met with anything but disdain and outright refusal. But she does not think about that either. The fact is that he had no say in many of the things in his life and what he does not show is that anger for it. Her words are true enough though. He will concede to that. Perhaps he should have fought more for it, put up some resistance, or made a spectacle of it. But it was merely what-ifs now. Nothing back home mattered at this moment in time, if there was still a Runeterra to return to.
His grip on his crutch is tight enough that it creaks with the pressure but ultimately he just sighs, coughs into his hand, and gives Jayce a look of exhaustion. ] It's as you say.
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He won’t think the words.
They don’t need this right now. Neither of them.]
Let’s go sit down. I think there’s a kettle around here, I can make us some tea.
[We don’t need to talk about it.]
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I'm in a poor mood, I wouldn't want to subject you to it.
[ Jayce has seen him at his worst, true, but he always offers an out should the other choose to take it. He wouldn't be very good company right now as is, but Viktor knows that would never put Jayce off even still he gives him the choice. ]
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[There's not even a moment's hesitation with his offer, the thought of parting ways here not even occurring to him.]