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

[ 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.]

[ It's good to have a concrete task after all that talk about friendship. He can make pie. He can make pie with Shadowheart. The circumstances are wildly different, but there's something a bit nostalgic about standing in a kitchen making pie.

John sets the food processor on the counter and plugs it into the wall before going to consult the recipe. He's going to have to improvise a bit because this isn't the exact recipe he's read, but it should be close enough. He measures out half the flour and all the sugar, adding them to the bowl of the food processor. He accepts the butter and finds a knife to cut it into smaller pieces. ]

The idea here is to cut the butter down so it's easier for the blades of the processor to cut it into really small pieces. The blades get stuck if you put something too hard in.

[ Butter chopped, he distributes it around the bowl. ]

Spreading it like this will ensure it incorporates easier. And the food processor has been plugged into the electricity so it has power. There's generally two ways to use these: you just turn it on and let it run, or just pulse it so it does short spins. Just as a warning, it's a bit noisy.

[ And with that John turns the dial to the "hold" setting and gives it five whirls. The result is a fairly cohesive paste, but not something that looks quite like pie dough yet. Once the noise has died down, ]

Any questions so far?

You mean to say, [she says incredulously,] I spent an hour figuring out how to make a pie crust, when I could have put the ingredients in this thing and had it done in seconds?

[It really had taken her a full hour; she's never even been in a kitchen before, that she recalls, let alone baked anything.]

[ That earns a small smile. ]

Modern conveniences. My mother had a special tool to cut butter into flour but it was still manual labor.

[ Now that he's shared a little about that time, it's easier to mention the afternoons standing in the kitchen with his mom. He can remember standing at the counter and reaching into the bowl with the pastry cutter, if only barely. Still, better to get back to the task at hand. ]

We'll add the rest of the flour next. Same thing in the food processor.

[ It's a quick measure and then a short five more spins in the machine. At the end it's much drier and clearly not ready to be pie dough. ]

We'll need to add cold water to the dough next to make it come together. Grab a bowl and dump the dough in, then grab your water and add it a bit at a time, mixing it into the dough until it all sticks together.

[ John takes the container off the food processor and leaves it on the counter for her to do the next steps. ]

[Modern conveniences, indeed. To her, electric lights and food processors and indoor plumbing and boxes that stay cold round the clock all seem like some sort of advanced wizardry. She can easily wrap her mind around gods raining down wrath or people who can throw things around with their mind as easily as their hands or dragons soaring through the skies. Kitchen appliances, though...

Shadowheart sets the cat down to fetch a bowl and run a cup of cold water, doing as he says with the sort of awkward care of someone who hasn't got the faintest idea what she's doing.]

My mother used to bake, too.

[Normally, she wouldn't share anything about her parents, but John is so nice. The truth is, she doesn't remember her mother at all. She only has the picture Aurora gave her of her mother standing in the kitchen brandishing a rolling pin over a ball of dough, while her father bounces a three-year-old Shadowheart on his hip. A picture of a life that was stolen from her.]

[ John watches her work the dough, ready to offer advice if she needs, but she's doing a great job so far. Or, at least as good of a job as he'd expect from someone who hasn't done this before. He also notes the comment about her mother, but doesn't call it out directly. For all that they're friends, it's a careful friendship, and she'd been reluctant to share her past last time he asked about her traveling companions. He also knows what it's like to not want someone to pry. ]

Maybe that's just a thing moms do.

[ Even growing up he didn't have that many close friends. Friends, yes, but not close ones. He didn't go over to houses for playdates, so he doesn't know if other moms baked. Maybe it is just a think moms do. ]

Edited 2025-03-16 01:29 (UTC)

Some, perhaps.

[The only maternal figure Shadowheart actually remembers at all is the Mother Superior, and she would wager quite a lot that Mother has never once baked anything in her life. But there's something comforting in the thought that her real mother and John's mother both did. Two people leading completely different lives in completely different worlds, who both made pastries for their children.

She pulls the dough out of the bowl and gives it a skeptical look.]

Is this right?

[ John takes the dough from her, feels the moisture and looks at the flecks of butter throughout. He's not a pie expert, but it seems good enough for him. ]

Looks good to me. Next we'll want to form it into a disc, wrap it with plastic wrap, and chill it in the fridge for a while. Do you have any plastic wrap? Usually comes in a long roll in a cardboard box. If you don't have any I do.

[ He's happy to put the conversation about moms aside and talk about practical things. ]

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cw: mention of religious abuse and torture

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