acatalepsy_logs | ( the sickness: phase two )

( the sickness: phase two )

I ▫ main	IV ▫ premise			XI ▫ applications	XIV ▫ activity
II ▫ logs	V ▫ rules	VII ▫ bestiary	IX ▫ canon updates	XII ▫ taken	XV ▫ drop/hiatus
III ▫ ooc	VI ▫ faq	VIII ▫ setting	X ▫ mods	XIII ▫ reserves	XVI ▫ players

the sickness ends.

the temple.

The Temple, shortly after Astoria's burst of energy, is in a constant state of growth. Trees are bursting into existence from seeds in mere seconds, flowers are growing wherever magic lands . . . and the Temple is abruptly a-buzz with energy, magic crackling throughout the air. You may find a tree in your house, or flowers suddenly growing along the walls, or plants wiggling their way through the stone walls of the buildings of the Temple. All of a sudden, the place looks very overgrown.

The Forest of the Fey seems to be responding in kind, too. Sprites are exceptionally active, darting out of the Forest and into the Temple with increasingly regularity, playing basic little tricks on the members of the Circle they can find. Flower crowns are made at an alarming rate, and there might be a few fruit-food fights that break out with the sudden abundance of peaches and apples that appear on the grounds. Learn how to duck!

With the magic comes the sudden fluctuation of energy: canon powers flicker on and off, as do the powers granted by Astoria. You feel more like yourself, you suddenly have access to energies you did not have previously in the Temple However, it's a double-edged sword -- it is not constant, and it may be more trouble than its worth.

And, remember: the Sickness is not fading immediately. If you make it to Stage 3, then you're stuck with sensory deprivation for at least another week or two. Sorry, friends.

lake dona.

Lake Dona is a massive body of water, stretching outward for so far that it almost seems like an ocean until you see that the water is fresh. It is surrounded by long, leafy trees that dip into the water and has a variety of ancient ruins scattered around it -- weathered stones set into circles at seemingly even intervals, old buildings that seem to mirror the Temple in construct.

In addition to the ruins, there are a network of caverns tucked along the water’s edge, just underneath the surface on the western side of Lake Dona, that appear to go underground into murky darkness. The actual entrance to these caverns seem to be underwater, seemingly guarded by merfolk, but poking around may seem to be more trouble than its worth.

There is plenty of wildlife to be found within the lake itself, ranging from freshwater mermaids who would rather you stay the hell out of their backyard to a rather large and suspiciously friendly plesiosaurus-like creature (some would say that she prefers to be called Nessie) that seems intent on checking out who you are. The lake teems with odd-looking fish, most of which seem to be okay to eat, and plenty of plant life! But who knows what lurks in the depths below . . . that giant sea-monster looking thing has to be eating something.
PROMPT IDEAS: Here are some prompt ideas for this new area! However, don't feel limited to such ideas! Feel free to fish, to explore, to swim, to poke around . . . it's always possible Astoria may check in on your character, too, once she is feeling better! ;)

1.) The Great Pumpkin The overgrowth of plants have caused a massive growth spurt in a lot of the trees, including the fruit trees that sprinkle themselves throughout the Temple. However, the fruit themselves seems to be growing at a rather . . . alarming rate, resulting in a few pumpkin-looking squash growing to the size of small boulders in the fields. Hope you have a lot of spare time on your hands to make a hell of a lot of Temple-pie, because these squash aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

2.) Food Fight!: Those damn sprites are at it again, and are collecting fruit off the ground and throwing it at people. Fight back, organize, and conquer! Or not. It's probably better to just not.

3.) Part Of Your World: The mermaids within Lake Dona are a suspicious lot, and they don't take kindly to strangers stomping through their territory. However, they are receptive to music, so if you are so musically inclined, they will definitely be more inclined to be a little more playful than territorial. If you aren't? Have fun getting tossed into the lake head-first by a bunch of pissed off mermaids who want you to get the hell of their lawn. They don't take kindly to your type around here.

4.) Nessie: Within Lake Dona is a massive plesiosaurus-type creature which seems to be . . . oddly friendly? It seems to pop up at the most inconvenient of times. Are you sitting on the edge of the lake enjoying the water? Enjoy a massive ass dinosaur sticking its impressively long neck out of the lake to check you out and also scare the bejesus out of you. That being said, Nessie is an extraordinarily friendly being, and will even give you laps around the lake if you ask nicely!

5.) Caverns: The caverns within the lake are dark, deep, and menacing The merfolk inform you that you cannot go there -- no one can, but the merfolk sure seem to be keeping a careful eye out on it. Testing the boundaries indicates a weird magical field around the entrance of the cave, that works like a bit of a forcefield. Weird, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well now Hank is just being difficult for the sake of it, twisting up his own words and tossing it back at Connor in some sudden desire to play by the rules.

His lips thin. But he has no response to that, other than—]

Truth or dare, Lieutenant?

[Hank pauses, makes him wait for it.

Wait for it.

Waiiiit for it...]

Dare.

[ :) ]

[oh my ra9]

Dare again?

[Connor is not so oblivious to not realize that Hank is giving him a hard time. After that talk of allowing him to ask a question in line with "truth", only to change his mind.]

...Do a handstand -- [Er, well, Hank is a little tipsy, so Connor makes an addendum:] --against the wall.

What?

[He's saying that a lot tonight. Fucking Connor.]

Why don't you just ask me to burp the alphabet or, I don't know, not fuckin, acrobat bullshit.

[Even as he's grumbling he's taking action though. For his first step, Hank flops on his back. Then he puts his hands against the floor next to his shoulders, his feet on the wall, and starts inching his way up, grouching the entire time. He gets about to the point where his shirt's starting to slide down and his neck and hands are taking most of his weight, tries to push off the wall, and slides off to the side, noticing after a second that he's fallen dangerously close to Connor and all but scrambling back.

That little adventure's broken off one of the scabs on the back of his neck from this morning, and tilting his head to look up from the floor at Connor makes a little blood join the faint, half-washed stains already on the back of his collar.]

Look, I don't know if you're trying to uh, grade my fitness levels or whatever, but that's the best you're gonna get. Unless you want me to break my neck and puke on you, you'd better count that one.

Uh, oh yeah, truth or dare, and all that.

[For a moment, Connor almost changes his mind. Almost tells the Lieutenant to ignore that dare, and he'll think of something else -- but Hank's already settling against the wall, attempting his best to do the handstand. From this angle, he can't notice the little dribble of blood from a broken scab; maybe then he would've told him to stop anyway.

But he doesn't have to wait much longer. It's the best Hank will manage and the... gracelessness of it all almost makes him smile. Does make him smile, in that "okay I guess I'll accept that feeble attempt" kind of way.

He's nice enough to not provide any real remark.]

No, I'm not grading your fitness level. Fortunately. [(Well, he tried real hard not to make some kind of remark.)]

Dare.

[For a few seconds Hank just looks at him thoughtfully, thinking about that smile. Then he rolls himself upward, ducking his head and settling against the bedframe.]

Can you even smile? Like, for real? Cause of, I don’t know, being happy? Tell me a joke, Connor. I don’t care what kind. I just wanna see what you’ll pick.

You know the answer to that. I can emulate happiness, including a smile to match.

[A joke, though?]

A man walks into a bar...

[He pauses for comedic effect, purposefully leaving Hank hanging.]

Emulation's not what I was askin about, and you know that.

[Then Hank pauses for just long enough to realize that Connor's going to make him wait, pursing his lips, narrowing his eyes.]

Lemme guess, though. He walks into a bar, and he says 'ouch'.

[Goddammit Hank.]

You can’t complete my dare for me.

[He taps at the glass bottle again.]

And if you’re asking whether or not I smile due to actual happiness, you know the answer to that, too.

[Hank frowns at him, because he does know the answer to that, doesn't he, and knowing makes him decide to pretend Connor just didn't respond. Not to the smiling thing, anyway. He makes himself shove it to the back of his brain and move on, whatever was in his frown turning into disbelief.]

What, that was it? Really? [He breathes out a little laugh.] Where'd you get that one, Bad Jokes Warehouse? No, god. Okay. I guess that counts. Androids can't tell jokes, I guess we've got that established. You wanna try another joke, or ask me something? I'll give you a truth this time, just to shake things up.

[A bad joke?

Silence hangs for a precarious minute, in which Connor doesn’t reply. And then in a stubborn show of just barreling forward, he decides to try again. After all, failure always sits unwell with him.]

I went to the zoo and I saw a baguette in captivity.

[Someone stop this madness, look at what you’ve done, Hank.]

The zookeeper said it was bread in captivity.

[...]

What.

[Hank's face doesn't know whether to smile or look totally, completely confused, and flickers rapidly between the two. He just stares at Connor for a few seconds, trying to find any clues at all in his expression.]

Was that a joke? Or were you just- [He said he'd stop accusing Connor of not working right. Right now, that's hard.] -cause I heard you, and I'm looking at you right now, and I still can't tell.

How do you not recognize that as a joke?

[Connor's brow knits together, and he leans back.]

Or does it require further explanation?

[Because explaining a joke makes it more funnier, right? Maybe if Connor hadn't registered this as a stark challenge right off the bat, he would be more inclined to actually deliver them without the blunt-force intensity of being in the interrogation room.]

...Please. Yes. Please, Connor, I think- I think it might actually make my night, if you explained that joke.

[Humor is crouched in Hank's voice but he's doing his level best to keep it hidden, trying as hard as he can to play this straight. If Connor twigs to how hilarious Hank is starting to find Connor's whole approach to humor he might get insulted and quit.]

I think- I really think you need to explain it to me.

[So maybe Hank's level best isn't that good, tonight. Hopefully good enough.]

[Too bad that Connor has turned up his observational talents up to 11. Critical analysis of Hank’s tone and changes in expression, still there despite how he wishes to hide them, reveal that he’s definitely not requiring an actual explanation regarding why the joke is humorous.]

No, I don’t need to. You know well enough why the pun works, I think.

What sort of jokes do you think are funny then, Hank?

Fuckin... [Hank slumps theatrically over to one side, grinning, disappointed.] What if I really wanted to know, Connor? Are you gonna tell this hilarious joke and then leave me out in the cold like that?

Look, it's- okay. Someone thinking their own joke is funny doesn't mean it will be, but when you tell it like- like you, it comes out sounding kind of um, kind of special. You've got to believe in it. And also not pick the oldest, tiredest joke in the book.

Okay, look, you want one that's kind of meta like the one you tried to tell me, how about... [He leans forward, thinking, and tries to rub at his face before looking at his hand, betrayed, and abandoning the gesture.] Okay, a chicken walks into a bar. The bartender says, 'sorry, we don't serve chickens here, try the place across the road.'

I don't guess you'll think that one's a knee slapper or anything, just like, think about it. Note how I'm holding myself, you know, casual. A little smile's important too, not so big that you look like you're trying to terrify them into laughing, but something. You don't throw a joke at someone like it's some kinda deadly weapon. It's funny, you've got to smile.

I feel like I'm committing some kind of crime telling you how to do it right, that before was actually hilarious, but do you wanna try that again? See if you can come off a little more uh, human this time?

I know that, Hank.

[Theoretically, he knows that. He knows that humor is a delicate thing that each person interprets differently, and that it requires a mishmash of careful timing, intonation and delivery. He has programming — mostly unused — that tells him that much, that he hadn’t used out of a pure desire to test the joke efficiently and with forceful application.]

Fine. Give me a moment.

[Connor leans back, LED flickering. He takes a moment to reset, not bothering to hide the way he adjusts his body language, his expression, queueing up a tone and smile that’s more amiable. More “human”, as his programming from CyberLife dictates.

A different joke this time, though.]

Let’s see— How does a penguin build its house?

[Leaning forward, grinning, it’s almost jarring how quick he’s settled into the change of demeanor like it was nothing. Maybe for an RK800 it is nothing; all part of the manipulation game that threads around his core. ]

Igloos it together.

Uh-

[Hank frowns, obviously unsettled.]

That was uh, a lot better.

[He looks away, sucking at his teeth, then looks back, still seeming troubled.]

So before, when you told that other one, that was you being, uh... real with me? And this is uh... your whole humor program? Is that what that is?

[And despite what he thought was a much better attempt, adhering to all of the tenets of what his program told him, Hank still looks dissatisfied. Unnerved, even.

Connor slides out of that smile, into something more neutral and considering.]

I was only doing what you told me to do. To be more “human”. Before, I simply decided to tell the joke without the extra effort.

Is that an issue?

Yeah no it's um...

[Hank leans back, tapping a finger a few quick times against the floor. He twists his mouth up, frowning, feeling like an idiot.]

No. No, you were only doing what I asked you to do. It's fine.

[Connor'd even warned him first, hadn't he? About the smiling thing, that it wouldn't be real. Hank's voice goes kind of subdued, trying to sound dismissive and not quite getting there. He's a fucking moron, what else is new.]

Anyway uh, I guess that counts. Do you wanna ask me a question now, or...?

No.

[As in, “no”, there’s definitely something wrong with that joke — or his delivery of it.

Or maybe the fact that he had tried so hard to make it sound like a way someone personable would’ve delivered it.]

You’re lying. What’s the problem, Lieutenant?

[Everything about this body language says so.]

[Hank grimaces, more put out than irritated. He doesn't have the energy to be irritated at Connor right now, not on top of everything else. Hank sounds tired, too. This whole topic makes him tired. But of course Connor's not going to be happy until Hank goes through it with him anyway. If he's lucky, maybe Connor will let him skip a couple steps and at least get through it quick.]

I mean it. You are only doing what I told you to do. If there's a problem with that, it's not your problem. I'm human, okay? Humans are gonna have some... There's going to be some shit that's, that's hard to, uh... [He looks for a word. A nice, general word that's not lying - fucking lie-detecting detective bots - but that's vague enough to be bearable.] ...you know, kind of offputting. But that's my issue. I said we'd try the whole, the whole friend thing, and I meant it. I wouldn't lie to you about something like that. So let's just put it down to a uh, a human-android never the twain shall meet type deal, okay? And get back to what we were doing.

[Not that Hank's sour, 'trying not to look like I'm sucking on a lemon' expression promises much good in that regard.]

[Connor isn’t sure how to translate that into something he can account for. This goes back to what he felt, when Hank had let his emotions coarse through him, that shuddering need for a connection — a connection born of something real, something human, not just the synthetic calculations of whatever CyberLife had dictated for him.

He should let it go. To be fair, he meets Hank halfway, releasing figurative stubborn jaws so that the pressure isn’t quite as stinging.]

You take issue with my innate programming when it comes to interpersonal reaction? Right. That makes sense, given what I could glean from your emotions.

[He frowns, one not born of anything like programming.]

I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but there’s little I can do about how I approach these sort of situations. If it helps you parse it better, you can think of as part of my personality.

I know! I know that. I said it's not your fault, didn't I?

[He slumps, not bothering to hide the sour look anymore. Wasn't he too tired to be irritated a second ago? What happened to that?]

I got it. I'm an idiot and whatever I might be feeling doesn't make sense. I've got that. Why the hell do you think I wanted to drop it? I can't think of it as your personality, it's so-

I'm dropping it. Okay? This is me dropping it. There's nothing either of us can do, so fuck it. You're an android. Let's move on. Can we move on? Are you gonna let me do that?

[Connor tries to reach out with compromise, and only manages to irritate Hank more. There's a small deflation in the curve of his shoulders, barely noticeable, but there all the same.]

I didn't say you were an idiot.

[Added quietly, maybe a little uselessly. Connor doesn't want to drop it, but he also doesn't want this to devolve into yet another argument with the Lieutenant. With a wrenching silence, he lets it go.

Hard to miss the deflation in tone, the delivery of someone disappointed; or realizing he's disappointed someone else.]

...Truth or dare?

( the sickness: phase two )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)