etrayalogs | MISSION 004 (part 1)

MISSION 004 (part 1)

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: July 19th-July 27th.
WHERE: Moorecroft Village
WHAT: Enjoy life in your new suburban neighborhood!
NOTES\WARNINGS: Potential death.

⏵ welcome home ⏴
Welcome to Moorecroft Village, where the sun casts a gentle glow through soft white clouds. Pavement paths wind around the village, adorned with wildflowers in every hue. Birds sing a soothing melody, while a few content cats lounge in sunspots or on benches along the streets. Cars hum by, ferrying residents to work, the store, or back home after a busy day.

It looks almost perfect. The ideal little village, occupied by individuals from all over. Orcs, elves, faeries, werewolves, vampires, and dhampirs coexist harmoniously, each contributing to their quaint little town. Despite their varied backgrounds, they appear to embrace this place as their own. They take their baby carriages out during the day for a stroll, chatting with friends and neighbors about current happenings, discussing their most recent mission (a ‘game’ of Whodunit, in which one of theirs, Theo, was tasked with killing one of their own each day and they all had to figure out who had killed them before they could come back to life) and the difficulties therein, new job assignments, weird things the teens in their houses are getting up to... generic, neighborly conversations.

The village is full of life. There are numerous facilities to wander and things to do! The library houses a vast collection of books spanning history from countless other worlds and whimsical children's tales. Teens gather at the ice skating rink, while the movie theater screens films spanning generations. An aquarium full of wonders: glowing rainbow fish, miniature great white sharks, a colorful octopus with patterns running over it that almost look like ivy, and numerous others.

In the daytime, everyone can explore clothing stores, indulge in gourmet cakes from the grocers, and partake in leisurely pursuits without financial concerns; just like on Etraya, money does not exist here.

⏵ help wanted ⏴
Moorecroft surpasses Etraya in its development, offering attractions and activities to engage its inhabitants throughout the day. But with these advancements come additional responsibilities. By day, at least one adult from every household is expected to fulfill their shifts at 'day jobs', lasting anywhere from four to eight hours. Meanwhile, the youth are expected to go to school, absorbing knowledge in various disciplines.

Each job duty requires different skillsets, but whether or not those required skillsets are matched to those who are expected to work them... well. They’ll have plenty of time for training, won’t they? Or perhaps they’ll get dropped right into their job and be expected to figure it out all on their own.

For the younger residents, education is structured into two main institutions: "Sandalwood Lower" for those twelve and under, and "Maplewood Upper" for older students. These schools offer a broad curriculum encompassing Language Arts, Mathematics, Science, Physical Education, Technology, Fine Arts, and a diverse array of Foreign Languages. Electives range widely, from specific sports to Survival Training, Creative Writing, Journalism, and Sociology.

At lunchtime, the school cafeteria presents an array of choices. Options range from standard fare like school pizza to other offerings such as vampire's blood, brains, and hearts—just in case an unexpected guest should drop in. After all, one never knows who might show up in Moorecroft.

⏵ honey do's ⏴
But life extends beyond work and school. A structured routine of what is expected of each household is kept on digital calendars, and installed on the wall in the kitchen of each house. These calendars update daily with smaller tasks, and weekly with larger ones, detailing what is expected of those residing within its walls.

Typical tasks include simple activities such as:

Take the child(ren) for a walk outdoors.
Visit the local park.
Bake a pie for the neighbors.
Tell your spouse(s) how important they are to you.
Share a secret.
Shop with your child(ren).
Mow the lawn.
Don’t forget to attend your child’s school’s PTA meeting!
Help with homework.
Take family photos.
Go on a date.

More complex tasks are found under weekly checklists, and may involve:

Host a neighborhood barbeque competition.
Volunteer at the hospital.
Teach your child a sport.
Start a soccer league.
Create a garage band.
Get a part time job.
Join a club.

Eos will check off each task as it is completed. At the bottom of each calendar, a tally records the completion of tasks, providing a visual measure of productivity and community involvement.

⏵ night watch ⏴
As the sun lowers over the horizon, everything shifts. Every long-term resident understands the consequences of curfew and the threats within. They retreat to their homes, urging those unfamiliar to them who may not understand the rules just yet that they, too, need to return indoors for the night.

Within the confines of their houses, life continues under a fragile veil of normalcy. A peek into some of the homes of long-term residents will find them playing board games with their family units, completing homework or work assignments they were unable to finish during the day, watching a few family-friendly shows on their couches, or enjoying a late dinner. Eventually, they’ll return to their beds and wait for the sound of their alarms.

In Moorecroft, no friendly companion bots roam the streets during the day. In their place, highly advanced robots emerge to enforce curfew once the time comes. They silently make their way through the streets, sweeping away anything that isn’t part of Eos’ design: trash left out on the street, bugs left by suspicious men wearing cowls that have ears on them, graffiti, new decor that Eos decides she doesn’t like. No winds shake the trees, there are no cars on the road, but noises can be heard coming from outside that don't sound... normal by any means. Croaks, whispers, scratches against doors and walls alike.

Those who defy curfew will be asked, once, to return to their homes. If they opt not to listen, they are met with force: physically restrained, subdued, and dragged back to their homes. If they decide to fight, the bots are not above killing them and dropping their limp bodies just inside the front door of their houses. They will revive after 48 hours but not without cost. Each return carries an absence—a missing memory, a lost skill, or a fragment of their very essence, stolen away in the process of their revival.

Even those who manage to evade capture will awaken in their beds with no recollection of their death or what they may have witnessed before dying. They will instead have a vague feeling that something horrifying happened.

⏵ NOTES ⏴

Daily and weekly tasks can be chosen by players! We won't be listing these out for each household, but relying on players to choose what's most fun for them to play with within their households.

As noted on Mission Plotting, we're open to one group successfully staying out past curfew, but would like to keep this to one thread.

We have a separate log for NPC interactions for this mission!

For any questions relating to the contents of this log, mod queries thread on the initial plotting post to assist us in keeping all mission-related information in one place. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ.
⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ There's an upshot to Fabian's reluctance to pull back the curtain. The greater the hype, the higher (or lower) the expectations.

Krouse isn't strictly relieved at the sight of the catastrophe, but there's a definite relief-adjacent tinge to the drop of his shoulders as he steps inside. ]

Single parenting, huh?

[ He says it softly, just to break up the pause before it gets awkward. The keening of the unseen cyber-child is louder past the threshold, that specific pulsing wail that's the bane of public transit and sleep alike. ]

All right. I'm going to drop this in the kitchen, you go get the kid, and I'll get started. Where do you keep the trash bags?

[ He pivots on his heel to face Fabian again, deftly dodging a clump of wrappers on the floor, and fixes him with one of his most reassuringly confident smiles. ]

It looks worse than it is. Give me an hour and you'll be amazed.

[ He's not even putting on a front. He's cleaned up uglier messes than this. The level of biohazard is practically tame. And there's a sort of anticipatory rush at the prospect of slipping into something that, while not strictly his element, isn't out of his comfort zone either. ]

[ Krouse is being so nice about this.

And yet Fabian just.. stands there, kind of looking frozen. He doesn't further follow Krouse inside. He doesn't even reply to the other right away. He just stands there, staring at the other, looking more and more unsure with each passing moment of what he should be doing here.

The reason for his bafflement only comes a moment later, when he finally and slowly manages to ask: ]

You.. don't think it's weird?

[ That's the part he doesn't get. Krouse walked in on this literal disaster site, and rather than scolding him or making fun of him, he's.. being helpful? He's not even really remarking all that much on what he's seeing here? ]

Edited 2024-08-25 20:59 (UTC)

[ That, at last, earns Fabian a weird look: eyebrows raised, mouth tilted at an angle, skepticism written in the crease of his forehead. ]

You've got a job and a baby. Why would it be?

[ He's not talking about the specific job, as requested, but it does exist. He assumes Fabian's been taking a stab at it, not that he cares if he isn't. That's not even the half of it, really. ]

It's a messy house. Not the end of the world. You should have seen my apartment the first month after I showed up.

[ His show of puzzlement fades away, when he judges that its work is done. If Fabian thinks it's weird, the trick is to treat it as normal. Not that it isn't, but that's always a relative judgment. ]

You're fine, man.

[ ... ]

Oh.

[ That's the oh of a man who still doesn't fully get it, but is slowly coming to terms with the fact that this is happening all the same. A part of him may still be waiting for the other shoe to drop, but another part of him wonders if maybe it's not going to drop at all. If this is just it.

But that doesn't mean he knows how to actually react to any of it. Fabian easily takes to praise when he's in a dramatic mood, easily takes to offense when it feels like he's being insulted. But what do you do when you expect someone to think less of you, and then they don't? ]

.. okay.

[ It's nowhere near usual levels of enthusiastic that Fabian usually throws around. It's weirdly muted, even as he slowly takes a few steps into the house to catch up with Krouse. ]

I don't know. [ He says, and the tips of his ears have grown a few shades darker with him fully realizing it. Something about Fabian does still look a little ashamed, despite Krouse's easy acceptance. ] I thought it should be-- you know. Better than this. [ He's never seen any of his friends' places looking this messy. Seacaster Manor never looked this messy until he was left there by himself. ]

[ Right, Krouse thinks.

Mismatch of expectations to reality. No one thinks of how hard keeping up with a whole house is before you have to do it yourself. When someone else handles it, your awareness of the process is tangential at best. ]

Nah.

[ Krouse shakes his head, moving towards the kitchen with his tray of brownies, expecting Fabian to follow him at least partway down the hall - he thinks the crying is coming from that way. ]

They make it look like that on sitcoms, but that's because people don't want to see it, and keeping track of the props between shots would be insane. [ He glances over his shoulder, casually not looking at Fabian's ears. ] You're used to living with people, right?

[ With some slight hesitation, as if he doesn't want to answer that particular question for some reason, Fabian lands on: ]

Yeah.

[ .. he pauses again, and then excuses himself with a quick 'hold on.' After he leaves the kitchen, it doesn't take too long for Fabian to return to where Krouse still is standing there, holding the crying robot baby in his arms. It is indeed crying its little robot lungs out, even though Fabian looks like he's doing his best to rock the baby in his arms. ]

I.. uh. [ It's like he's still halfway through his explanation, despite having left the room and returned. Like maybe he needed it to momentarily contemplate whether to tell Krouse this or not, but.. then again, Fabian is pretty sure this moment is actually massively ruining the other's impression of him. Maybe there's no lower he can go than this, talking over the crying baby. ] I always-- lived. With people. I mean, papa died, and Cathilda returned home, and mama then went on a year long cruise with her new boyfriend, so.. um.

[ He still both looks and sounds real awkward. ]

Perhaps not as much lately.

[ When Fabian returns, Krouse is in the midst of clearing packages off the floor, filling a garbage bag he located under the kitchen sink. He even found a pair of bright yellow gloves to put on first.

He nods at Fabian when he returns with the baby, sparing the robot a quick glance and resolving to be a really good goddamn sport about ignoring it. Babies crying is not one of his top ten sounds.

Neither is what Fabian musters as if the conversation hadn't paused at all. Krouse does pause, straightening up from behind the kitchen island, fixing Fabian with a steady look of evaluation. ]

Sorry.

[ Krouse says, not sounding sorry at all. He sounds mildly ticked off. ]

Your mom left you alone to go on a cruise with her new boyfriend for a year after your dad died? Just to clarify.

[ What the fuck. ]

Well, it's--

[ Something about Fabian's attitude here is definitely awkward. It's like he's uncomfortable with the topic, or like he feels the desire to defend his mother all the same the moment he hears Krouse's tone. Like he's worried that he's just representing this story the wrong way, like he's worried about putting his parents in a bad light when he loves them so much.

.. or maybe it's just that he's trying to open the fridge at the same time to grab a bottle of milk to help silence this crying baby. ]

It wasn't right after. [ That makes it better, right. ] There was a year between my father dying and the cruise, and-- Really, it's just that she doesn't understand that a year to me is different than it is to her, since she sometimes forgets that I am not going to live practically forever the way she is, you know?

[ All very normal things to say.

Don't mind him, Krouse. ]

[ Krouse was, prior to his life going to fucking shit, living the life of a fairly average teenage boy in a mid-sized American city.

That means he has plenty of experience hearing about shitty parenting decisions and mostly keeping his thoughts to himself. He's familiar with Fabian's tone of voice, the wincing defensiveness buried in rationalization, the edges of a story blunted with denial. It's not that bad. It wasn't right after. She just doesn't get it, but it's not her fault. ]

Right.

[ He breathes out through his nose and starts reaching for trash on the kitchen island, stuffing away crinkling snack containers and dumping pizza crusts into the trash bag. ]

That's got to be rough, sometimes. I guess I hadn't thought about it.

[ He still thinks that's a profoundly shitty thing to do to Fabian, but that's parents for you. They fuck up. Krouse's mom is a shining exception in a sea of mediocre to bad.

She just lucked into a son who'd make her deal with the same shit from the other direction. ]

So your mom is the elf, and your dad was the human, huh? I hadn't asked. Wasn't sure if that's a personal thing. [ He moves over to the counters, keeping his voice lightly interested. ] Is it a personal thing? I don't know how all of that inter-species stuff works for you guys back home. Where I'm from - you definitely don't fucking ask people shit like that about their parents.

Oh. [ It's a surprised sound, but only slightly. It's mostly the sound of someone who hadn't quite realized yet that people from other worlds might think differently about this sort of thing, and is only now for the first time being confronted with the idea at all. ] No, it's fine. It's-- It's not really personal.

[ He doesn't think it is, anyway? Maybe it's different for other people. He hasn't exactly known a whole lot of people to talk about this stuff with, considering the only other person he's close with who is mixed like him was adopted, and therefore had different problems entirely. ]

I mean, everyone knows my papa, so I'm fairly sure everyone already knows. [ Especially when Bill Seacaster is perhaps the least elf-like being in all of existence. ] I'm not sure if mama ever thought about how he was going to die much earlier on than her though.

[ .. probably not, Fabian figures, given that his mother hardly ever seemed to think about anything before his father died.

But he is still trying to defend his parents here, so of course he isn't going to offer Krouse those words. Instead he just sits there, rocking the baby in an attempt to try and make it grow a little bit more quiet. ]

And even then, he still went way before his time. [ Before the end of his human lifespan, Fabian means. He doesn't have to give the details, right. ] Maybe that made mama want to date an elf and have a new elven family that she wouldn't have to say goodbye to as soon.

[ Fabian just says that, like it's barely anything. Like it's understandable, like it's sort of embarrassing that Fabian might have a leftover qualm or two somewhere. A qualm or two about the concept of his mother moving on to not just start dating someone new - that can be rough, but it's not like people's moms don't deserve romance - but apparently dating someone new in a way that leaves Fabian feel like she's upgrading to a new, more durable model.

And yeah. Maybe Krouse doesn't get the finer magical details, or the social norms, or the difficulties of cross-lifespan relationships. But he doesn't feel obligated to be understanding of anyone but the guy miserably rocking a baby in front of him.

A baby. Jesus Christ. That's surely not coming with any associations.

The next package Krouse shoves into the garbage bag crinkles hard. He forces it down, then ties the bag off with quick, jerky motion. ]

I don't think that's how it works.

[ He's keeping his voice level. He's doing a good job of it. He snaps open a new garbage bag, black plastic billowing as he shakes it out. ]

Not that I know your mom. Maybe she does want to date someone she'll spend more time with, in the long run, and that's what's going on. But if she's doing that, it's not because your dad made her. Or you.

We all have to say goodbye to people. Doesn't matter when it happens. It's not easier when it takes longer. [ Is he even making sense? Fuck if he knows, working his way along the kitchen counter for more trash. ] Not that you were asking for my opinion. But there you've got it.

[ Fabian doesn't say anything right away to the opinion - like he isn't sure what to do with it. It's always been easier for him to reframe difficult things in his mind. It's the easiest way to cope with them. All the hard things in his life have some sort of reason behind it. Killing his father made him stronger and gave his father the end he wanted. Everything that happened in Leviathan just made him who he is now. His mother is just moving on this quickly because she's trying to avoid heartache.

It makes it easier to not think too hard about how miserable any of those things really are.

It's why Krouse rebuking the reframing throws him off course. It makes it hard to know what to say here, what to do, other than to start warming up the bottle of milk he grabbed from the fridge so he can give it to the baby in a few moments when it's warm enough, hopefully silencing the awkward crying background noise to an already difficult conversation

At least Fabian doesn't look angry or offended in the face of what the other guy is saying. He just looks.. kind of lost. ]

Well, she's just-- [ He starts.

There's something a little awkward about his tone. Like he knows what he's doing, maybe, but can't stop doing it all the same. He doesn't know how else to cope. He doesn't know how else to explain it.

It's not like his mother doesn't love him, after all. He knows she does. She loves him so much. But-- ]

She's just doing what's right for her. If she is happy, then I am-- then I'm glad for her.

[ Yeah, Krouse! He's just glad for her!

That's why he's spiraling about not being able to take good care of a baby. Because he's just happy for his mom, and doesn't have complicated feelings about the way he was raised or is sometimes treated at all. ]

[ If Krouse hadn't already crossed a line, and he was pretty sure he had, saying anything else about Fabian's mom would definitely be going too far. It wasn't his business. It wasn't his problem.

The counters were decent, the floor cleared of trash. Krouse ties off the significantly less full bag he'd finished things off with and gestures around the already much less devastated looking kitchen, improved significantly by the removal of the obvious garbage. ]

Voila. [ He says, expansively. ] I told you it wasn't that bad. Want to hit the living room next? Bring Hal Jr with us.

[ He paused, reconsidering the reference. ]

That's an AI from a movie back home. Hal. So, Hal Jr.

[ He'll just leave out the 'murderous' part while he ushers Fabian and Hal Jr towards the living room, the box of garbage bags in hand. ]

Cute kid, by the way. [ The baby was...baby-shaped. They were all pretty much baby-shaped. That meant cute in a sort of undefined way. ] And, you know, man - you should have someone do what's right for you, too.

[ Shit. Krouse snaps out another garbage bag, crouching to start picking up trash from around the coffee table. ]

Not that you don't know that. Just - forget it.

[ Fabian follows Krouse without protest. The milk is still heating up anyway, so standing around and staring at it isn't really going to make a difference - he can grab it later. Especially when he doesn't just want Krouse to go around and clean his house all by himself while Fabian sits in the kitchen. Krouse isn't his maid.

Not to mention when Krouse is-- well, he's saying some stuff.

Stuff Fabian doesn't really know how to process, but stuff all the same. ]

What do you mean? [ He says once Krouse cuts himself off, a frown on Fabian's face. He looks kind of confused, even as he's trying to gently rock the baby a little. It does make the baby more quiet, even if he isn't entirely silent just yet. ]

Dude, you are already doing more for me than anyone should right now.

[ Isn't that someone doing what's right for him? More than it, in fact. ]

I should have been handling all this by myself.

[ The bag Krouse is picking up crinkles in his hand as his fingers tighten on it. He sieves an exhale out through his nose and stuffs it into the garbage bag. ]

No, you shouldn't have.

[ He doesn't look up from what he's doing. He just keeps picking up trash. Not like a maid, but like a - neighbour. That's what they are, in this place, even if their houses aren't side by side. People stuck in the same situation. ]

You didn't exactly ask to end up a single dad with a job. And a whole fucking house to keep up? That's not something you wake up and just have handled.

[ Even if it's fake, and it doesn't matter. It matters to Fabian, apparently. And judging by his own tone, it matters to Krouse, because here he still is, picking up garbage. ]

And it's not a big deal, all right? Christ. [ A beat. ] That's, uh - famous dead guy. Where I'm from. And even that guy would think you don't need to nail yourself to a goddamn cross like this, man.

[ Thanks for the very succinct Christianity explanation, Krouse.

Even if it's not helping Fabian's confusion much. Sure, it at least isn't making it worse by adding yet another confusing element to all of this, but it isn't really helping Fabian's entire confusion about-- the rest of this. The way Krouse helps him so easily. The way he doesn't seem to think Fabian is some sort of huge loser or failure for not having all of this covered.

He stares at Krouse and his trashbag like it's something Fabian has never seen before in his life. Like the other turned purple on the spot. ]

Wouldn't-- [ He starts, then stops.

It feels dumb. It feels so dumb. This isn't just something you ask your random bro friend, but on the other hand, how else is Fabian supposed to get to the bottom of this? He's not a detective like Riz. ]

Wouldn't your parents expect you to have it handled?

[ Krouse snorts. He can't help it. It's just that the idea of his mom thinking Krouse could handle anything like this is so absurd that for a second, he can forget anything else that comes up when he thinks about her. ]

No. Jesus.

[ He shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the back of his wrist thanks to the gloves he's wearing being greasy enough he doesn't want them smeared all over his face. ]

First name of the aforementioned Christ. And no, she would not expect me to have this handled. When we did egg babies for sex ed class she went out and bought a carton of back up eggs to forge replacements.

She'd - [ his breath catches, just for a second, and he's fine ] - she'd probably be doing this for me. Maybe kidnapping a replacement cyberbaby. Just in case.

[ ... ]

Oh.

[ Fabian is definitely underplaying his surprise - or trying to, anyway, since he doesn't really manage to say that 'oh' without looking real awkward about it. It's a weird idea, Krouse's mother doing anything like that. Sure, his own mother became a little more active again after his father's death, but Fabian still can't imagine his mother doing this. Cleaning up.

.. looking after a baby.

The fact that it feels like such a weird thought sits uneasily in the pit of his stomach as he looks at the other guy, trying to figure out what to say here. Willing himself to force out something, just so he doesn't seem pathetic. ]

I guess your mother is pretty cool for kidnapping babies for you. [ Nailed it.

Truly nailed it. ]

Yeah. Yeah, she is.

[ He even actually laughs, shaking his head again to clear it, which only goes so far. It's too easy to picture her, and too hard. He thinks he has the impression of her down, the general outline of her, but the details - the details aren't as crisp as he wants them to be when he tries to pin them down. ]

I guess we have something in common, huh? Felonious parents. Real sons of rapscallions, we are.

[ He's not sure he's breaking the tension in the right direction, but fuck it, he has to do something to keep this garbage clean up from being completely garbage. 'Rapscallions' feels like a thing that's nautical and nefarious. ]

[ At least it does put a small smile on Fabian's lips.

It's not quite the same as the usual though. Fabian's smiles tend to be more like grins, broad and loud, but this smile is definitely nowhere near close to that. It's more just that he's appreciating the attempt he can recognize on Krouse's end right now more so than that it makes Fabian instantly feel better. ]

Well, mama wasn't like that. [ ... ] Not really, anyway.

[ Not that he's fully sure how he would describe his mother to Krouse. It honestly feels easier to talk to him about his father, given that Fabian spent years of his life doing practically nothing else but talk about him.

He finally moves, starting to pick up some of the trash himself to put it into the garbage bag the other guy is holding. The movement is a little slow, a little hesitant, but he's making an effort. ]

Papa always taught me to grab whatever I wanted, though. [ .. theft, Fabian.

That sort of thing is called theft. Yet he's saying it so casually. Real sons of rapscallions, indeed.. ]

Not not really much about.. this stuff. [ Cleaning. ] I suppose it is since we always had Cathilda to take care of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MISSION 004 (part 1)

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THIS NOTIF DISAPPEARED FROM MY INBOX!! how dare it separate me from krouse .·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·.

INBOX!!

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