acatalepsy_logs | welcome to the horologium.

Entry tags:

welcome to the horologium.

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

welcome to the horologium.

Some of you know it is coming. The World Jump, the chaotic thrust into a new universe. But some of you are new, and though you know what the mission is, it is a bit . . . troubling, sitting around and waiting for something to happen. But eventually, you get a message on your watch. It shows Astoria . . . dark hair framing her features, her voice light and musical. She sounds like herself, for the first time in some time . . . that spark of determination back in her eyes.

A MESSAGE FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD WITCH.

"It is time, my beloved Travelers, to go to our new destination . . . and I want you to know that I have the utmost faith in you. Akvos' loss has hurt us all, and I know that many of you doubt our mission. But please believe me when I say that you have done the best job anyone could ask of you. Akvos' destruction was not your fault . . . and to our newest members of our Circle, welcome to our journey. I can only hope that your journey here will work out to the benefit of us all."

That being said, you are journeying to the Horologium . . . it is a ship that has sent out a distress beacon. I am not sure when, or where, but I can feel great darkness, emanating from that place. I believe you all can combat what is done there, without interacting with the Void . . . so please, be safe, and I will see you all when you return."

And, just like that, there is a pull in your stomach . . . your vision blacks out and you feel the sudden sense of vertigo, a sensation of falling, and then . . . nothingness. You open your eyes, and you are suddenly waking up in the midst of . . . fog?

THE AWAKENING.

When you wake, you are greeted by metal — there’s an expanse of silver all around you. The cot you’re laying on is somewhat rigid, like a flattened wedge of cotton more than anything, encased in a capsule-like structure. Should you inspect your surroundings, you’ll find that there are three more cots in your room..or more notably, another person in the room in of itself. Depending on where you’ve been roused from your slumber, however, you’ll find that your circumstances differ.

➜ If you’ve woken up in the northeast wing of the ship, there seems to be a pool of saturated pink goo at your feet. It sticks to the bottom of your heel and collects at the very center of the room, oozing from the cracks and crevices within the metal lining of the walls. And even more notably, the goo has a particularly saccharine scent, as though it’s meant to be...consumed. Looks like you had the misfortune of waking up in the wing adjacent to the kitchen.

➜ In the northwest wing, the ship is functioning at an all time low. When you wake, the room is illuminated for a brief moment...before flickering out, only to leave you in pitch darkness. Power returns to the room intermittently and only for a few seconds at most, but it appears as though you and your newfound roommates will have to navigate the darkness if you want to leave.

➜ In the southwest wing, the fire alarm in your room has been activated for some inexplicable reason. It’s an obnoxiously loud siren that slices right through the whirring of the machinery around you — and it goes as far as to trigger the sprinklers hanging from the ceiling. Water sprays from above you, hopefully ensuring that you’ve woken up if nothing else has. It doesn’t seem to be draining either, so it may be for the best that you escape with some haste.

➜ In the southeast wing, your circumstances are for the most part rather unremarkable. An untouched room, mostly intact...until you try to open the door. It won’t budge — unless you have some form of super strength, your muscle power is rendered useless on its own. You might just have to commission someone else to help you...

Beyond your room, the word “Horologium.” stretches across the wall.

Welcome to your new home.

WHISPERS IN THE DARK.

In a way, it feels as though you’re suspended in time.

The ship is always humming, always whirring as it makes a haphazard attempt to function. The noise comes to a halt every so often, leaving you with nothing but silence and the idle creaking of the floor beneath you.

There are remarkably large, bright white doors that divide each and every wing. A circular window is positioned at the center of all 4 of these doors: but nothing can be seen through it. It’s likeness is that of a black hole’s, like someone had gone as far as to paint over it.

On every door, the same word is emblazoned in black lettering: EXIT.

Except the word itself appears to be scratched out to some degree — as though it were scrubbed out in a fit of desperation but remained no less.

When you see the door, you might be overcome with excitement. Or perhaps not. Regardless of what your reaction is like, the lights around you will dim and flicker at an alarming frequency. For a moment, it’s almost as though the gravity around you has slowed, and the hallways are becoming narrower by the second.. Voices and faces from the past emerge in your mind. You see someone you shouldn’t; they’re calling for you. They’re here with you right now, beckoning you to come closer...

If you reach the door and attempt to open it, it won’t budge. And the further you walk away from it, the more the effects will subside.

But there’s no telling if you’ll sleep well tonight.

INVESTIGATIONS

The ship is fitted to house approximately 500 people — it’s a bit of a ghost town, however, lived in but abandoned no less.

The chairs are in the mess hall aren’t aligned perfectly. The tables are a bit crooked. The lounge is lofty, but not pristine. The rooms may be barren, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that they were somehow someone else’s before they became yours. There’s an array of locked doors, varying in sizes and shapes, all of which withhold something potentially useful to you. You may be inclined to visit the lounge, the mess hall, rifle through the bedrooms . . . the ship is yours to explore.

However, how you interact with the ship is….entirely up to you. There is something to be found everywhere. Regardless of what you do, where you investigate and how, you might be tempted to look behind your shoulder.

After all, every decision you make matters...right?

(Every Player’s investigation prompt has the potential to differ greatly as your investigation will require mod input. We encourage you to ask as many questions as you would like, we are here to help and provide you with the information necessary.)

Additionally, please feel free to write up and work with your own prompts! These areas of the world are presented as jumping off points for your characters, not limitations. The idea of this world- as with all the others- is to explore -- you may use as much leeway as you want in order to come up with what your character will do.

If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask them back on the various threads back in the OOC post from before!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's too bad Hank's too distracted by the dangerous concept of eating real food to notice what she's doing. For the sake of his fancy pampered pet dog he'd probably appreciate it.]

Oh god. Uh, I mean- no. No, that's uh- [He swallows, then clears his throat.] That's fine. You just, uh- you just keep it for yourself, you probably need lots of, uh-

[Is that rude? Saying someone probably needs to eat a lot, if they're part horse? His fucking life, jesus.]

-anyway, if you even eat meat, don't horses- fuck, I mean... centaurs? Starts with a j, fuck. [He rubs a hand over his face, presses his fingers against his brow, and keeps them there, grimacing. He should have known not to talk to her when he was feeling like this. He goes on anyway, though, his voice slow and unhappy.] Shit, I, um- just, keep it for someone. Not for me. Okay? Sorry.

... I eat meat.

[Most of the conversations she's had with Hank have... not gone as she'd planned them to. He said a lot of things that confused her that she could only guess were things specific to his time and world, and there was the matter of how rude she found it that he kept saying all of this was fake, that she somehow wasn't real...

But. Even she knows this is weird. Right?

Slowly, her knife work slows, and Konoha can't help but turn to look at the man. Or. His back, mostly, but.]

... Are you alright?

I, uh-

[He stays how he is for a few seconds and then slides his shaking hands off his face, wraps his arms tight around himself, and half-turns to face her, grimacing, shoulders hunched.

Okay, pros and cons of being honest with her. Cons: he might have to spend a whole lot of time explaining. More time than he wants to spend thinking about it. Pros: He won't have to think of a way to lie without ticking her off - good, cause he can't think of one - and it's not like her opinion of him can get any worse.]

I'm probably about to barf a little bit but uh, I'll live. Hurray.

[Okay, or he could just be honest without actually explaining shit. That's an option. It's the easiest option, so it's probably not a surprise that's the one he went with.]

[Oh.

They may have had their differences, but that doesn't stop her being sympathetic to the idea of being physically ill. She'd nearly thrown up her first time riding a "subway train", unused to the strange motion, so-]

Is it the stars outside? I had to stop looking at them myself, it's too weird to be floating out here like this...

[But if he's about to be sick...]

You can eat ginger, right?

Uh- yeah. Yeah.

[He's never really been a natural remedy kind of guy but he knows what she's getting at, and after a second his expression starts to twist up with guilt. Or nausea. Or both. Probably both.]

...Thanks.

[She did all the work of thinking of an explanation for him, and it's really convenient and it's really easy, and it's always harder to lie to someone who genuinely gives a shit.]

It's uh, it's not- It's not the stars. Is that like, a motion sickness thing? Do you- I guess you wouldn't know if you get motion sick, huh, you can't really... ride. In a car.

[He's trying to be nice and polite and make conversation, okay. He's trying.]

Or a- a boat, I guess? You could probably fit on a boat.

[It gives her something to focus on. Something to do, to think about that wasn't how utterly insane it was to be in space. That wasn't about how confusing all of this technology was. That wasn't how her hooves and legs ached from walking and sleeping on all this hard metal.

That wasn't remembering the faces of the children she'd looked after in Akvos. The faces of the people she'd gotten to know in the Circle, who now were gone. ... Hopefully back to their own worlds, but.]

Connor called it "motion sickness", so I guess that's it.

[As she finishes up slicing out Sumo's portion of the rabbit, she uses the "plastic wrap" Hunk had taught her about to wrap it, placing it to the side and beginning to dice up the portions she'd offered Hank a moment ago. Her mother's recipe for ginger soup usually had chicken, but. Rabbit should be fine, too.]

I've never been on a boat, though. It's a few days journey to the ocean from my village.

[Well, it doesn't seem like she picked up Hank's little attempt to tell her the stars aren't his problem. Which is sort of what he was hoping for, wasn't it, asking her about motion sickness and fucking boats and shit. That is called burying the lead, and he damn well knows it, and he did it on goddamn purpose. And that's- fine. He tries to give her a friendly smile, which - well, it does maybe end up looking like a smile, sort of. That's also fine.]

Well it's, uh, it's nice, if you ever have the time to go. The ocean. But uh- maybe less than it used to be, I guess. It's nicer when you're not, uh- [He clears his throat, trying to clear away the phantom-sensation of water crowding down it every time he tries to breathe. He'd die before he went to another place like Akvos, he thinks savagely, impotently. Astoria can send them wherever she fucking wants. He clears his throat again.] It's nicer when you're not in it. The beach, you know.

[It's not the stars, he says, but she thinks simply. It must just be the thing he mentions right after- just the "motion" part.]

I've heard it's nice, yeah...

[And that there's good seafood. But she's had plenty of that in Akvos now. It had been good. Fresh ocean fish, not the salted or dried fare that made it inland, or the more earthy taste of river fish.

It's fine, then, right? If she doesn't demand he acknowledge that all of this is real, that she exist... maybe they'll just have a conversation. But this one has steered far too close to Akvos, to her knuckles growing pale on the knife handle she grips too tight as she continues cutting, so-]

I guess I shouldn't get on a boat, though. Or "trains" or "cars" or "spaceships". The ground is good enough for me.

Yeah. I think I'm starting to feel the same way.

[His gaze settles on her knuckles, her grip around that knife. He's going to keep watching that as he goes on, ready to change the subject if she seems to get more tense. It's not a good idea to make someone holding a knife feel that way in the first place, but even aside from talking to her hasn't gone wrong yet. Well, he still feels like a shithead. But he's pretty sure neither of them's wanted to walk off yet. He doesn't really want to make that a pattern, their conversations ending that way.]

Or maybe that's just all the uh, dimension-hopping getting to me. I'm pretty ready to put a stop to that fuckin shit.

Me, too.

[See, they agreed on something.

Her gaze stays focused on the cutting board, though, dicing the rabbit into small, bite-sized pieces before she summons a hunk of ginger root, beginning to slice it into thin shavings.]

If we hadn't been snatched up by the Witch, we could just be back in our own worlds... the least she could do is let us stay at the Temple if we don't have the sort of magic powers to help in other worlds.

Yeah. That’d be nice.

[He watches her for a second, still looking slumped and sweaty and miserable but looking thoughtful, too.]

You think you’re not helping out?

Oh, no, not at all-

[She shakes her head immediately, continuing to slice expertly, concentrating on the rhythmic give and take of fingers and knife along the root.]

I'm helping out... and the power the witch gave me is useful to keep everyone on the team fed, especially since we go to places with such goopy food... I just meant.

[...]

You know. Helping out the actual worlds that we're supposedly meant to save. That's different.

Yeah? How's that? Cause I don't see the rest of us doin too good on that front.

[And, yeah, maybe he sounds a little bitter when he adds that last part. He's not going to try to keep that out of his voice. 'A little bitter' is actually an improvement.]

[... Point.

And his bitterness is something she understands, even if her own emotions fell far more on despair and horror.]

... Like magic and fighting experience and knowing the technology, I mean.

[Even if it didn't help them at all in Akvos.

Even though she still wakes up at night thinking she's holding one of the babes in her arms only to find nothing.]

Does that bother you? That you’re not, I don’t know, some kinda tough guy or a hacker or whatever?

[He slumps against the wall, wiping sweat out of his eyes and thinking about that. It’s weird to think about. He’s always thought of her as... Well, to see which one of them ought to be feeling useless all you have to do is look at them right now.]

No, it's not like that.

[As useless as she felt here...]

I've never wanted to be anything but what I am. ... Was.

[Mechanically she keeps moving, preparing her mother's recipe for ginger soup as best she could.]

But what I am just isn't what these worlds need, I'm a lumber worker from a small village. Even if the witch says fighting isn't the only way to "combat darkness".

If she wants to combat darkness she shoulda just bought a flashlight.

[He grumbles it to himself, knowing it's not that funny but saying it anyway.]

I'm gonna tell you somethin I had to learn myself. This place isn't full of like, experts and heroes and... I don't know, whoever else you're thinking of and you're the one exception. That witch doesn't know what the fuck she's doing. She's just hoping throwing a bunch of random assholes at these problems is gonna fix something. The rest of us are just as unprepared for all this shit as you are.

I, uh. I don't know how reassuring that is. But it's not just you.

[A flashlight... Sheryl taught her what those were. Hah. Funny. Or it would be in another time, another place.]

It's not like I think I'm the only one... or that I think the witch is doing things right. I don't know what she's doing, choosing all the people that she did. Some people here are so young, too...

[People who had no business being away from their parents, let alone their worlds...]

But. I just wish that once we all got here...

[He waits a second, then realizes she’s expecting him to fill it in for her. He doesn’t know her that well, though, or doesn’t really understand what he knows - nice people are harder to deal with, that way - and he figures it’s probably not insulting her or anything if he asks her to explain.]

Yeah? ‘Once we all got here,’ what?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

welcome to the horologium.

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