etrayalogs | FEBRUARY MINGLE

Entry tags:

FEBRUARY MINGLE

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: February 14th - March
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers, a mini mission, and some new city features!
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.

In the hospital's lobby are several party tables set out with miscellaneous baked goods: croissants, cookies, breads, cake slices, as well as tea and coffee to accompany them - or hot chocolate, for those who are opposed to the other offerings.

Outside the hospital, the last remnants of snow are melting in the sunlight as the weather begins to warm up. It's still chilly enough one might want to put on a coat, but not so cold a jacket is necessary for wandering around without freezing off one's fingers.

We hope you enjoy your stay.

⏵ heroes return ⏴

As the Quantum Rail train glides to a halt, returning passengers step out onto familiar ground - the train station, right where they had initially begun their mission. When exiting the station, their earpieces vibrate, indicating the automatic download of a detailed map which highlights key locations, transit paths, and notable landmarks. As Aurora promised, she had been working on a few renovations around Etraya! A sleek trolley system now winds through Etraya, following clearly marked pathways through the city bubble to make travel across the city smoother. However, the trolley only moves one way, eternally following the loop Aurora has set it on. And because of this, it takes six hours to complete it's loop all the way around. Don't miss your stop!

Pets and animals have been returned to their usual preferred areas, some awaiting the arrival of their owners, and others keeping to themselves in the forested areas throughout Etraya.

Beyond the small upgrades, things seem relatively unchanged - until one familiar sign catches the eye. One marked by four vertical lines, methodically crossed out one by one: the final slash has now been drawn through. The tally is complete. What it indicates has yet to be made clear, but it has to mean something, right? No one would go through the effort of making an ominous-sounding sign without following through.

⏵ love in the air ⏴

This Valentines Day, Aurora and the companion bots have opted to try something a little different: they have scattered mystery valentines across the city. Hidden within mailboxes, tucked into cafe menus, slipped under doors, on the outside of high windows for those wall-crawlers to spot. There are countless of these little slips of papers, strewn throughout the city. And within each valentine, is a challenge or gesture to complete. Please feel free to make these up yourselves as long as they fit in with the theme!

Some examples include:

Deliver a flower to a stranger.
Write a heartfelt poem for someone.
Share a box of chocolates!
Confess your feelings for another.
Play matchmaker for two people - this can be platonic, or romantic!
Gift a friend with a stuffed animal.
Give five different people a genuine compliment.

While not mandatory, completing five tasks will earn an individual an additional ten points to use towards anything they would like!

Each little Valentine is signed "Your Secret Admirer. ♡", and some of them may even be addressed to specific individuals. Don't be surprised, Eddie, if you see one or two that are specifically addressed to you lurking around your collection of chicken friends!

And while most of these are harmless, some of the valentines cards come with effects for those who come into contact with the paper. Perhaps they thought it was a piece of garbage, or were just kicking it out of the way rather than intending on taking part. It doesn't matter! They get to join in on the fun, too.

Heart Eyes - your pupils literally turn into hearts for a few hours, making it hard to focus on anything other than things (or people) you find attractive.
Love-Struck Stammer - You can only speak in poetic compliments or romantic declarations, regardless of whom you're speaking to.
Chocolate Bliss - Everything feels good. Simple. Easy. As if there's nothing in the world to concern yourself with. You feel happy, without any concerns or worry.
Rose-Tinted Vision - everything looks soft and romantic, as if you're in a romance novel. You know the ones.
Magnetic Attraction - regardless of what you had been doing, you suddenly find yourself unable to leave the side of the person closest to you. Had you been eating chocolates while walking down the street? Well, have fun getting stuck to the guy who'd been out for a jog!
Serenade Syndrome - you find it impossible to resist the urge to sing your words, turning all conversations into love ballads.
Heartstrings - A thread appears, connecting you to someone close by who you share many similarities too. Perhaps you had never met this person before, but the threads tied around your pinky fingers that refuse to let go until you allow yourself to open up to them clearly means you should be a little more familiar with them.

Love is in the air—or maybe just a bit of well-intended chaos! 💕

⏵ NOTES ⏴

Welcome back from the mission, and welcome to Etraya for our newcomers! We've tried to keep this log simple for an easy introduction, as well as some downtime for our mission-goers who worked hard to solve the Quantum Rail mystery.

There is something else going on, but. . . well, no one seems to know what! The computer that had been on the lower floor of the hospital is now missing, and Aurora may seem a little flustered as she flits around Etraya, in search of something.

For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Shadowheart and Scratch both prefer the outdoors, but the winter is far too cold a time to be sleeping in a field. Retreating to the relative warmth of the building is their only option. Unfortunately, there isn't much to do here, so she's passing the time by making a very poor attempt at baking a pie.

If she could, she'd take in every stray cat in Nova City, especially in this weather, but as it is she couldn't help but adopt a skinny black cat who had been particularly friendly with her when she'd been wandering around feeding scraps to the strays. When John's knock comes, the cat is licking spilled sugar off the kitchen counter while Scratch curiously watches Shadowheart fumble with the oven's baffling array of knobs and buttons.

She scoops the cat up to stop her eating any more of the sugar, and then cracks the door open just enough to get a look at who's on the other side. When she sees that it's John – flowers in hand, no less – she lets the door swing open the rest of the way.]

Flowers and a smile. [She's a surprised by the latter, given that she knows by now he's not the smiling type. And she's surprised by the former because she's been resolutely ignoring those little slips of paper everywhere and has no idea it's a holiday.] To what do I owe the pleasure?

[ Now he feels a bit embarrassed by this whole thing. This is entirely outside his expertise. ]

I thought you might like some flowers. It's starting to be daffodil season.

[ Even he knows better than to say "one of those valentines told me to give someone a gift" but he did think of her. So that's fine, right? He can't see much of the apartment from his place in the doorway and tries not to look anyways, that seems rude. He does note the cat, however. ]

They're safe for cats.

[It's immensely touching, to be thought of. Shadowheart isn't sure whether anyone's ever given her a gift before, and for the briefest moment, all she can do is stare before she finds her voice again.]

They're beautiful. Thank you.

[She steps back, to let him inside.]

Come in. They'll need water, of course. And they may be safe for cats, but I'll have to find somewhere to put them that will be safe from her.

[The cat in her arms meows. Scratch, recognizing John, runs up looking to be pet, ruffing softly at their visitor as his tail starts wagging fiercely.]

Though even if she's tempted to knock them over at first, I'm sure they'll grow on her.

[Yes, that's a pun. Yes, she delivers it with the expectant tone of someone who fully believes it's a good joke and deserves a laugh. Yes, she evens laughs a little bit at it herself.]

[ John recognizes that he should probably laugh, but he can't remember the last time he's done that. He doesn't think he remembers how. So all he can do is let the moment slip by as he steps in and bends down to pet Scratch. As a dog owner he recognizes when it's time to pet a dog. ]

Maybe it'll even blossom into love, [ he attempts to counter back in a joking tone, hoping that will suffice. ]

What's your cat's name? [ People generally like talking about their pets and John is bad at conversations. ]

[That's also a very good joke, as far as Shadowheart is concerned, and it earns a soft laugh.]

I've only recently taken her in. She came and sat with me, when I was in Nova City leaving out scraps for all the strays, and she didn't want to leave. So I brought her back with me. I haven't named her yet.

[There's a strange reluctance she feels to name the animals — she hasn't named the mouse that hatched out of that egg, either, though she's had the mouse for months — as though giving them a name will somehow make the affection she feels for them more real, somehow. She loves having a place full of animals, but some part of her can't help but fear that she's going to lose them.

There's something, from her childhood, that she can't quite remember... A mouse...

She heads into the kitchen and pulls a jar for the flowers out of a cupboard.]

I've been cooking a pie, [she says, by way of explaining the mess. Apart from the sugar spilled all over the counter, there are several splotches of flour in various places, a misshapen sheet of dough that she's been attempted to smush into a baking dish, and a bowl of partially-mashed strawberries that's also been partially spilled. The small pawprint preserved in strawberry juice on the counter makes the culprit clear.]

[ It sounds like he succeeded with his own pun and is... pleased with that. Maybe even a bit happy. Like he's scratched an itch.

He leaves off petting Scratch and follows her into the kitchen. It's a little messy, but that's mostly par for the course when cooking and doesn't judge at all. ]

That reminds me, I'm pretty sure I promised you cooking lessons.

So you did.

[She gives John a smile before setting the cat down on the floor, where she immediately starts curling around Shadowheart's legs, and placing the jar in the sink.]

Did you know that if you turn this little lever, fresh water comes out? You can even make the water hot, without the use of fire or magic. It's quite remarkable, really.

[By way of demonstration, she turns the faucet and begins filling the jar.]

[ Oh, she doesn't know what a faucet is. Or at least it's new to her. He didn't really want to assume that just because she uses all sorts of medieval weapons that she didn't have "modern conveniences" but apparently that's so. It's... kind of cute. ]

Plumbing was a great invention. I'm a fan of hot showers, myself. My partner has a machine that keeps water boiling so he can make tea whenever he wants.

[ Harold is very particular about the water heater, John mostly leaves it alone apart from occasionally filling it up if Harold is distracted. ]

Showers? Is that what the water that comes out of that spout in the bathroom wall is called?

[Trying to figure out just about everything in the bathroom had been a process, but she's glad she made the effort for hot showers.]

In my world, if you want a hot bath, you either need a wizard or a lot of patience. Though one of my traveling companions was perpetually on fire, which spend up the process considerably. Ask her to dip her hand in your bath water, and it would be steaming in moments.

[The one positive of Karlach's condition.

There's a faint hint of fond sentimentality that steals into her voice. She misses Karlach, perhaps most of all out of her compatriots.]

I find myself missing her, even after all these months here. Isn't that odd?

[The jar successfully filled with water, she sets it on the counter by the sink, and holds her hands out for the flowers.]

[ He passes the flowers over easily and thinks on her question. ]

I don't think so. If my partner wasn't here I would miss him every day. That's just what happens when you make friends with people.

[ That's maybe the most honest thing he's ever said to her. Or at least the most personally revealing. He doesn't often talk about Harold with others, especially about their relationship. "Friendship" is really underselling his feelings for Harold, but he isn't about to confess to anyone, even if it is Valentine's Day. ]

[She ponders his answer for a moment as she sets the flowers in the jar and fluffs them up a bit, trying to arrange them so they look as nice as possible despite having no idea what she's doing. Perhaps missing people is merely the byproduct of caring about them; is it better to have known Karlach, however briefly, and feel the dull ache of missing her now, than to never have known her at all? Not terribly long ago, she would have said no, but now...]

Partner?

[There are a lot of things that word could mean, and she's curious which it is for him. Has she spent all this time flirting with a man who's already spoken for?

Without waiting for a response, she continues.]

I'll put these in the bedroom. It's the one place the cat's not allowed.

[If John follows Shadowheart, he'll figure out why the cat isn't allowed in the bedroom quickly. On a table up against one wall is a three story high cage, filled with all sorts of toys, ramps, chutes, and hideaways, in which lives a solitary white mouse: all too tempting a snack for a cat.]

There. [She sets the flowers on the table next to the cage, and speaks to the mouse:] Something beautiful for you to look at.

Edited 2025-02-28 00:28 (UTC)

[ John isn't exactly spoken for, but the way he's devoted his life to Harold and his cause doesn't leave much room for anything else. And that's to say nothing of his feelings for the man himself. Before coming to Etraya they had a very careful distance and being roommates in the library has... closed that gap some. It's only made John more aware of what distance they still maintain. It makes it harder for him to trick himself into not seeing his feelings for what they are. ]

The one I told you about, who pays me to not use lethal force unless I have no other choice.

[ Not that he has any intention of letting Harold appear more than what they maintain they are. Not that he has any intention of voicing his feelings.

John does not follow her to the bedroom, he's more polite than that. There's no need to intrude further on her private space after showing to unannounced. Instead he just sort of lingers by the kitchen. ]

Edited 2025-03-02 00:22 (UTC)

[Well, that tells her nothing she doesn't already know. But she won't press it.

She emerges from the bedroom and shuts the door behind her with a soft click.]

While you're here, why not give me that cooking lesson you promised? I think I must have used too much of something in my pie crust. Or too little.

[ He smiles at that, a little soft. She remembered, and he's been brushing up on his cooking. He can absolutely advise on baking a pie. ]

Do you have a recipe? I don't have pie crust memorized but I can grab my cookbook from the library if we need one.

[ John hesitates for a moment, then. ]

My mom had an old recipe card from my grandma. She used to make blackberry pies at the end of summer.

[ He's not entirely sure why he shared that, but there's something about this whole thing that's set him a bit off his game. He feels a bit more talkative than usual, a bit more open. The daffodils made him think of things he's long buried and it's a bit surprising to find it doesn't hurt to talk about his childhood, even if he's so far divorced from it that he might be an entirely different person. ]

From the library, in fact.

[She points him towards the book she'd found in the library featuring various pastry recipes. A quick thumb through the pie section, and she'd felt something hot and heavy weighing in the pit of her stomach when she'd come across a recipe for apple plum pie. Rather than examine that further, she'd resolutely flipped away from that page and picked the first recipe she'd seen: strawberry pie. When John mentions his mother making blackberry pies, she feels that same heavy weight again.]

A personal anecdote? I must be breaking down those walls of yours.

[She manages to muster a smile.]

[ Getting called out like that earns Shadowheart and awkward smile. He's used to Harold, who never comments when he shares things like that, just listens and surely commits them to memory. Harold would never miss a chance to learn something new about him.

To avoid the subject John turns to the recipe and gives it a quick read before looking at the dough. If he's going to get his hands dirty he should be dressed appropriately. His coat comes off and gets folded over a chair and he rolls up his sleeves almost to his elbows, and then he returns to the dough. It gets a critical examination, tugged this way and that, before he decides what's wrong. ]

I think your fat was too warm and now the dough is too wet. You want flakes of fat mixed into the flour rather than have them fully incorporated. If you have enough ingredients we can start over. Do you have a food processor? It's a cylinder with a blade that spins in the middle. If not, I have one at my apartment and enough ingredients.

[ He may be faking living there, but he's good at faking it. A well stocked pantry is part of his cover. ]

[There's that awkward smile again. Not one for smiling, not one for sharing, and not one for having it pointed out when he does, either. Noted.

She opens one of the cupboards, looking for something that matches his description.]

I haven't got the faintest idea what's in here, honestly. There are so many gadgets, and if it's more advanced than a rolling pin, I'm afraid I have no experience with it.

[She doesn't have any experience that she remembers with a rolling pin, either, but at least she managed to roll – badly – her too-wet dough with one earlier.]

[ John actually spots it. He moves in behind her but makes sure to make enough noise to telegraph his movements. A fighter like her might have a reaction to someone suddenly entering her personal space unannounced. Instead of reaching over her he just points to it, making sure not to crowd her too much. ]

That one there, that's a food processor, and it's big enough for us. I'll show you how to use it. Do you have enough ingredients for a second batch of dough?

[Shadowheart's only reaction is to consciously stop herself making a comment about a very attractive person invading her personal space. He's being so careful about it, and she can't help but wonder whether it's out of concern for her, concern for himself, or whether it's a sincere lack of interest in being in her personal space.]

I should have, if the cat hasn't gotten into them.

[She pulls the contraption down off the shelf and holds it out to him.

Best to address it now, and openly, she decides, rather than let it fester: she's attracted to him, but more and more she's gotten the sense that he begrudgingly puts up with her flirting. If that's the case, she'd rather drop the flirting entirely and simply be friends.]

I doubt you're the sort who likes to define his relationships, but I'd rather not run around the bush. [She doesn't get the phrase 'beat around the bush' quite right.] I'd like your friendship, if you're willing to give it. And without any expectation of anything more, if you don't want there to be.

[ John is... at a loss for words. He has so few true connections, and they've all been more than happy to just let that relationship be... whatever it is. He and Harold don't talk about it, he and Shaw don't talk about it, even he and Zoe don't talk about it. Carter, Fusco... he can count his meaningful relationships on one hand. Except, now he's in Etraya and he's met people. He knows people. He probably should have expected someone to have a conversation like this sooner or later, but he really hadn't, and he hadn't expected it to be Shadowheart.

So, what does he say? He genuinely has enjoyed her company the times they've met so far. He brought her flowers. Does that make them friends? Does he even know how to be friends? He has people he's friendly with, but he thinks he makes a really shitty friend. He doesn't know how to "be a friend" anymore. He cut that part of himself out when he walked the path of the CIA. And that's not even answering her question about "more". He has his thing with Zoe, but they have a mutual understanding that it's not... it doesn't mean anything. Or at least, it's something they could both let go without feelings being hurt. It's fun, but they're professionals about it.

And then, his deepest secret, Harold. Harold who is no longer at arms length, who is no longer just his employer. They live together. He sees Harold when he gets up in the morning, he makes him dinner at night. Sometimes a sandwich for lunch, or lets Harold have the leftovers while he's working on some project. Can he really promise anything to anyone when Harold is right there? When he's confronted with his feelings for Harold every day? When he has this mirage of what he's wanted for so long?

He can't.

He's been thinking for far too long; has it been a full ten seconds? He's left her waiting with the food processor held out, a vaguely stupefied look on his face. He reaches out and takes it from her, speaking quietly. ]

You've probably noticed, but I don't make a very good friend.

[The response genuinely takes her aback.

Shadowheart has little enough experience with friends. Prior to Etraya, there was the tiefling, all but forgotten, not even a name rattling around in Shadowheart's skull. And then there were the other victims of the Absolute's schemes, their friendship forged out of a necessary alliance mere weeks before Shadowheart found herself here. She has little enough to compare John to. But he's been kind to her, polite, not pushy or prying. He hasn't tried to hurt her or manipulate her or stab her in the back. He even thought of her all on his own and brought her flowers. Perhaps it's merely her dearth of experience with friendship that causes her to be shocked by John's insistence that he isn't a very good friend, but she can hardly imagine better.]

You can't be serious. You're one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I've ever met.

Edited 2025-03-11 19:40 (UTC)

[ If John thought he was out of his depth before, it's nothing like now. Here's someone telling him directly how kind and thoughtful he is. If only she knew the half of what he's done. What he would do, if he had to.

And yet, with each passing day, he talks to more people, finds more people he likes talking to. Kara once told him that he was chosen for the CIA because he was willing to throw everyone away, that he had no connections. But here he is, having accepted a flower from Maria, given Gorgug a book and Shadowheart flowers. All in the guise of Valentine's Day, of course, but he'd thought about it. Thought about these people and these gifts. Can he really say that he has no connections? There's always been that question of whether he could truly betray people if that's what it took to save his world. And here is Shadowheart telling him that he's kind and thoughtful.

He can't throw this away.

He knows what he's done and what he deserves, and it's not friendship, but it looks like he's getting it anyways. ]

I'm a little out of practice, my previous employment didn't leave a lot of room for friends.

Nor did mine.

[Her memories of the cloister are fragmented, little more than snatches of darkness, empty and crushing and cold. But she remembers a little, here and there. She remembers enough. There was no light in that place, no warmth. She remembers Mother's warnings, dripped like poison in her ear: khaless nau uss mzild taga dosstan, trust no one but yourself. She remembers compassion punished and cruelty rewarded; the burn of the rod across her shoulders for daring to help an injured boy, and the sick satisfaction of blood dripping from her fingers and the way bones feel when they break beneath her hands. And above all, seared into her mind like a brand, she remembers the first Truth of Shar: Love is a lie. Only hate endures.

No, the cloister was no place for friends.]

But I'm willing to forgive your lack of practice if you'll do the same for me.

[ Is it that simple then? Are they just two people trying to figure out how be friends, falling into friendship? This is only possible because Etraya is... so small. His first mistake was trying to make allies, because it's impossible in a place this size not to run into people again and again. And when that happens relationships form, it's inevitable. His second mistake was failing to hold people at arm's length no matter what. The people in Etraya are so alive; here's Shadowheart with a cat trying to make a pie.

And what of John, who spends his days cleaning the library and cooking? Certainly there's the danger of the unknown, but his life has never been this peaceful. It's made him... soft, perhaps. It's a bit of a sobering realization, and he's been trying hard not to think about it too much.

So here he is, softer and holding a food processer and about to make a friend. He wonders if he'll ever be free of Kara's specter, but he thinks she'd be so disappointed and cruel about this and it feels good. ]

Friends, then.

Friends, [she agrees with a soft smile.

Gods only know what she's done to deserve it, but here they are. Friends. As easy as that. There's a thrill of newness and excitement that comes with John's agreement, and even of relief. Shadowheart's spent so much of her life in darkness; making a friend feels like one more small step towards the light.]

Go on, then. Show me how to use that thing.

[She can't help but wonder about his former employers, and how they discouraged friendship. He was a soldier, he'd said, in an army; is that where this stiff, quiet man learned to dampen his feelings? Were his commanders in the army the ones who convinced him – falsely, she'd say – that he doesn't make a good friend? He'll tell her in his time, she supposes. She knows better than to pry.

In the meantime, they've got a pie to bake. She scoops up the cat, who's once again trying to lick the sugar off the counter, and with her free hand grabs a bag of flour and places it on the counter next to John. Then it's into the large, cold box up against the wall to fetch the remainder of the butter.]

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cw: mention of religious abuse and torture

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