pedalbike | Fourth TDM: Winter's breath

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Fourth TDM: Winter's breath

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As a quick note: This will be the last TDM and Application Round of the year! Have fun everyone!

Arrival

Not all characters (known as Wickie, singular or Wickies, plural) arrive at the same time, surprisingly enough! That’s life for you. Some Wickies find their way to the island at a pivotal (or very mundane) point in their life, or even after or during their death.

Wickies who were standing or walking often find themselves entering the town South Sister, located on Lighthouse Isle, through an open doorway. Those that were laying down, or sleeping, tend to be found lying prone in beds, bathtubs, showers, couches, and similar places within the cottages on Cottage Row. There’s no rhyme or reason to it all! To Wickies familiar with the era, they will realize that everything looks as if it’s come from the ‘90s.

The house which a Wickie finds themselves within could already be occupied. This includes walking into a fellow Wicke, waking up in the same location, or accidentally scaring a room full of people with their sudden appearance.

Oops.

Start of Winter

Thankfully things have more or less dried out, for the seasons are already changing. Or at least, the weather is, and with it...comes snow.

The grass on the island is covered, various trees lose the last of their leaves, the sand becomes crunchy, and even a portion of the ocean water becomes frozen solid. (Take THAT, water!). And with it, Wickies wake up at their feet (or suddenly in their hands if they don’t sleep) warm clothing and various ways to keep warm- or at least keep the cold from messing with their joints!

And with it, there are snow shovels and boots that are set out neatly by the door. It seems more snowk is expected, and foot protection is more important than ever. While it is possible for some (those who are not infected by the Silence at least) to use the teleporter to get from town to their homes, there are pathways that need to be cleared for everyone.

It might be a good time to offer a helping hand! Especially with some Wickies who are snowed into their homes.

Or it could be a good time to use the shovels to gather snow for snow ball fights, snow forts, and similar winter activities. The nice thing about the winter shovels is that they’ll have them for a few months.

Too bad the ground is nearly frozen solid, and these particular shovels are not good for digging into the ground.

Frosty Protections

While there may be the snow and the quiet that’s coming in, there are other things that are coming into the island too. There are tables that linger day or night, which have tangyuan. Some in the shape of various animals, and some of them that are simply balls of colored dough. They are edible, and thankfully they don’t have a negative consequence to eating them (unlike the mooncakes from before) but there are written instructions, which also proclaim outloud to a Wickie if they linger for awhile:

“For the use of protective talismans! Stick it on your chair, your door, your window!”

Interestingly enough, they do seem to work. Wickies who are Silence infected are repelled by them, feeling uneasy and nauseous around them and touching the tangyuan even with covered hands will cause a burning sensation.

Infected Wickies who eat the treats...they’re in for a rough time. Really rough.

There are also little tables with various drinks, some being fruit juice, sparkling fruit juice, champagne and of similar ilk- but not ever with water. That’s just bad luck after everything.

The inscription for this table, which is again read out loud, “Toast to others health”

Picking up the cups, they will be unable to drop it, and the fluid will refill in the Wickie’s cup until they find someone to toast to- whether it’s in humor or in earnestness.

For the next twelve hours after the toast is made, even if the drink is not drunk after, the Wickie toasted will find they will have better luck in that subject, whether it is in health, love, or friendship, or just in general.

The same applies if Wickies toast together to a group of people as well.

Of hooves and horns

The strangest thing of all isn't the sweet rice balls, nor is it the smell of evergreens heavy in the air. Instead, it's the masks set to everyone, and the ruckus music that thrums through the air, deep into the night.

The masks are of a haggard old woman, well worn and aged, and that of a man with horns and facial hair similar to a goat.

There are different effects when it comes to the masks, both happening at night with the music starts.

Wickies wearing the devilish mask find themselves wearing a ragged fur suit, prancing in the streets, ready to whip other Wickies whose behavior has been suspect or bad as of late. Finding the wicked and punishing them is an impulse, neigh impossible to ignore. And, too, there is a sense of wicked glee when they do punish someone with their reeds and whips. Krampus masked Wickies thankfully can be pacified with rum or brandy. They'll need the help of another to pull of the mask. But once it's off, the costume vanishes, and the chagrin of what happened ( or the satisfaction) follows.

Wickies wearing the woman’s mask will find that they’re not trying to scare people, but instead, they find themselves loping in and out of the crowds, searching, scanning, for certain people, all the while wearing ragged clothing, and often a scarf on their now ratty, graying hair.

It’s with a sickening horror that Wickies will realize there is something in the mask that is watching through the mask itself, and is nodding to itself far away and writing their names on a list.

And it’s not Santa Claus.

The Wickie’s wearing the old woman’s mask can be distracted by scattering seeds or threads in front of them- one inducing a true distraction to count and pick up the seeds, and a rage that comes over that of wasted thread.

Seeds make it easier to pull off the mask, and thankfully popcorn counts as a seed! But thread...well, it is a distraction too, but one that can lead to violent consequences. It might mean some rounds of bait and switching until the mask is taken off.

And that’s when the Wickie who had been wearing the mask realizing the list is of ‘bad’ Wickies, But…

how bad could they be?

Confession network

Yet again, the phone goes off. Doesn’t look like it’s anybody in town, but it’s that weird, cheesy app called The Heart Game. And it’s persistent, too: it doesn’t want to be ignored, making a series of beeps and chirps, much like a pet that wants attention.

The message that pops up is as follows:

We’re back! It’s the time for everyone's favorite game- Confession! So beloved users, our question is:

What do you love about winter? Is it the nip on your nose? The hot drinks? Playing in the snow? Tell us!

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There's an excited trill from the droid at Sabriel's little trick, and even Cal might be caught staring. Old habits die hard, so he's been watching her set to work, wishing he wasn't so paranoid but then it's been that paranoia that's kept him alive the past five years.

He's seen someone else use something that almost looked like fire, but not like this. Imagining the Nightsister he'd met use her magick to light a simple stove seems almost ridiculous.

The warmth of the fire eventually draws him and his attention, and the padawan moves to find a place near it that he can drape his poncho to dry out before sitting by the hearth as well. He finds the explanation he's been given a difficult one to swallow, and with his gaze turned towards the fire, the concerned look on his face remains hidden for the moment. "You make it sound like this place is alive," he says, but a frown turns his lips. "A month is still too long to be gone..." Especially without warning. Cere and Greez, they wouldn't have known what had happened to him, and with the Empire present, they might very well consider the worst.

BD-1's beeping brings his attention back to the present, and he finds the little droid looking up at him, having wandered back to his side. "...Sabriel," he says, nodding as he rests a hand on the droid's head before glancing back at the girl. "Thanks for letting us thaw out here. I'm Cal Kestis. This is BeeDee-One. You said this island drags people from everywhere- what does that mean? Do we know what planet this is?"

"It might be. There's a strange power about this place, and Life and Death here," Sabriel shakes her head, "There doesn't seem to be a clear boundary between them, as far as I can sense."

Which was deeply alarming, and Sabriel had been doing what she could to mitigate it- she just wasn't sure if it was enough.

"It's nice to meet both of you, and you're welcome. It's the least I could do for someone else stuck in this place. As for what planet- I don't know, beyond the fact that no one here is from this world- not even the people in charge. The original inhabitants are all dead." There's an uneasiness in that last sentence. Sabriel had sent to rest any spirits she'd found... but something terrible had happened on the island, and the force responsible still lurked here.

That's an unsettling thing to hear, and it makes Cal wonder at what sort of things the girl can do outside of lighting stoves with a flick of her fingers. He exchanges a look with BD-1, but says nothing more on the subject for the moment.

The more information Sabriel offers, the less he likes the situation. His brow furrows at the mention that the original inhabitants were all dead. It wouldn't be the first dead town he's been through, but those circumstances had a very clear culprit, and most of the people had been moved, not that there weren't casualties. The Empire is not kind.

"...do you know anyone who's been here longer?" He runs a hand through his hair as he thinks, still damp but at least he's no longer freezing. "Who's in charge?"

"The one in charge goes by Admin," Sabriel says, "And no one knows where they are physically, but you can contact them on this device. I should warn you though- they're under some kind of binding and unable to explain as much as they- or I- would like." A strange binding, one that caused harm to the one hearing what had been forbidden, rather than simply stilling the speaker's tongue, "And they seem to enjoy being cryptic anyway."

Sabriel holds up her phone. "Everyone here has one of these- it just shows up in our pockets on arrival, and no one's sure exactly how it gets there," She frowns, "It's one of many mysteries about this place, although among the least disturbing."

Technology was mostly a mystery to Sabriel, but not a threatening one. When the kettle whistled, she grabbed it, pouring out it out into two mugs, and offered one to Cal.

"Here- let it steep for a few minutes. Do you want cream or sugar?"

The Admin, huh. Cal frowns, not sure whether it's just that the person in charge is only known by title, or about what more Sabriel says of the person. "...how do we even know if this Admin is real then? And what do you mean by...binding?"

With the introduction of the strange communications device, Cal starts to pat around his own pockets and belt pouches before he pulls out another phone, frown resurfacing. "Yeah, that's not creepy or anything," he mutters. It doesn't look like any communicator he's used to, but he supposes he'll have enough time to fiddle with it. He sets it down so BD-1 can scan it as the little one is apt to do, the padawan's attention shifting towards the kettle as Sabriel goes to prepare their tea.

"Thank you," he says as he takes the mug, wrapping his hands around it to soak up the warmth. "This is fine."

"We've seen one of their subordinates in person, and the information they've given has been accurate- what we've been able to puzzle out, at least," Sabriel frowns over her own mug as she drops in a sugar cube.

"And I mean that Admin has been magically compelled to not discuss certain topics, or only speak of them in cryptic or roundabout ways. Given that there is something on- or within- the island that is powerful both powerful and malign that," Sabriel hesitates, shivering a little at the memory, "Reacts to the use of its name, they might have accepted the binding for everyone's safety. They certainly seem opposed to the... purple problem on the island." She wasn't going to call it the Silence and get its attention.

Taking a sip of her tea, Sabriel looks at him curiously. "Have you had much experience with the supernatural? You're taking all this rather well."

It's still definitely a lot to digest for all that Cal's used to unusual things. While he's not so certain about magic, he can understand compellments. That's something within range of Force abilities.

"I guess you can say that," he says. "A lot of it is still, well, a lot to take in, but not too long ago I was chased by dead Nightsisters brought back to life, and that's pretty up there on the supernatural scale."

At the mention of the Dead returning to life, Sabriel frowns, going still like she expects something to lunge at her at any moment.

"I'd hoped such things were commonplace only in the Old Kingdom, but- there have been Dead spirits here- weak, bodiless ones, but they've since either passed on or gone dormant." She'd forced some to pass on, but the others... she's not so sure.

"But the problem here is... not exactly Dead, although I think it might have ties to Death," It would certainly explain why the balance in this world was slowly tilting towards Death.

Carefully, Cal tries a sip of tea, at the very least enjoying the additional warmth. Out of his peripheral he can see BD-1 poking about furniture again, and trusting that the droid will keep out of trouble, he returns his attention to Sabriel.

"...you seem to have quite the experience with...death." He's just not sure how to word it, but otherwise he doesn't sound overly wary. Sabriel hasn't sent any undead things after him, after all. "The way you've been speaking about it, it seems like something you're sensitive to. Is it something you're attuned to, somehow?"

"I am," Sabriel acknowledges in a carefully neutral way- not bragging about some amazing gift or confessing to a terrible sin, but simply describing something she can do.

"It runs in my family- we're Charter mages first and foremost, servants of the Charter- but we also use necromancy, to bind the Dead and lay them to rest, to stop them from preying on the living. We do not raise the Dead, or use them as servants." Hopefully that would reassure him. For all that she'd spoken of her connection to Death, she'd never quite admitted to practicing necromancy before. People generally just called her an exorcist.

The padawan takes note of that, nodding. It might be strange talking to someone almost casually about such things, and certainly the idea's a new one to him. "...I don't think using the dead as servants was that Nightsister's intention either," he considers. "She lost her people, and I think the way she saw it, or maybe even how they believed things, one's fight involved all of them, even from beyond."

He shakes his head. "It was a lot to digest in a short time. I'm really no expert in her culture. I'm not even sure if her magick is some different aspect of the Force or...something else entirely."

"Those who have passed should be left in peace," Sabriel says, and she reciting the lesson that was drilled into her head since she started studying necromancy. "You can't bring the Dead back. Not as they were in life- whoever, whatever you bring back will turn into a monster, sooner or later." Which the exception of those brought back immediately, but Sabriel wasn't sure if that counted.

But while the mention of magic doesn't get her attention- she's practiced two different forms, and seen a variety of other techniques, the other term gets her attention as she drinks her tea.

"What's the Force?"

Monsters about sum up what he'd had to deal with back on Dathomir. The dead should stay dead, but then even those who've passed don't stay silent, and Cal has to wonder about the peace. No, maybe that's just been his own perception all along.

"The Force..." Cal begins, lowering his tea from a long sip. "It's an energy, it exists in and around everything. Where I'm from, some are more attuned to it, can sense and even make use of it."

It feels strange explaining something to someone who's unfamiliar with the Force, if at all for how careful he's had to be about letting anyone know about who and what he really was. But Sabriel's been kind, and this current and unexpected problem of displacement seems to trump any concerns of the Empire. That thought alone is a troubling one.

At his description, something in Sabriel's expression lights in recognition.

"Well, it's said that the Charter is all-encompassing- containing and describing everything that is, was, and will be, and the bonds that tie them together. Perhaps your 'Force' is something similar?" It can't be the Charter- he doesn't bear the mark. But perhaps it's something similar.

Brows lift at that; it does sound quite Force-like. "Yeah- yeah, that does sound about right," Cal nods.

"The Order I...well, I used to be part of, was known as the Jedi Order." He stares down at the curling steam from his mug as he speaks. "We study the ways of the Force, and use our abilities for peace and justice, for protecting the galaxy."

Cal's next words are merely interesting at first- a group of magic users, devoted to something like the Charter. The last word, however, throws her for a loop.

"I've never heard of the Jedi before, but- galaxy? Are you saying you've been to different planets?" Sabriel stares at him in wide eyed wonderment. Perhaps he simply mispoke, or perhaps he's from a world like some of the wilder magazine stories her friends read.

Lifting his eyes to look towards Sabriel again, Cal blinks. It's not completely unheard of for people to never travel outside of their worlds, but most know the possibility is there, likely thanks to the galactic war, and even now, a galactic, greedy Empire.

"Yeah. Traveling through space to different planets is pretty commonplace, if you have the means. Sometimes you spend more time between planets than on them, aboard starships that can travel through hyperspace."

"That's..." Sabriel's not sure what to say, Of all the stories she's heard and things she's seen, it's this that stuns her.

"People in Ancelstierre have speculated about the possibility, but there's no technology there that can leave the atmosphere."

And the Old Kingdom didn't really have technology- machines brought over from Ancelstierre simply stopped working, and were never much use against the Dead and Free magic even on the southern side of the Wall.

"It's easy to take for granted," Cal admits. "I'm not even sure how long the technology's been around, let alone how it was first developed. It's still being improved upon. I spent a few years dismantling starcruisers used for battle. They're monstrous things. It's a pretty different perspective after you've been used to being inside them."

It was easier focusing on the inner workings and taking things apart plate by plate than letting your thoughts drift to the time you used to run through their corridors and chat with the troops. The memories would quickly turn towards those last moments otherwise, when things just went wrong.

Cal closes his eyes again, centering himself, focusing on the earthy scent of the tea, on the crackle of the hearth and the warmth it provides. And then he opens his eyes again when he hears BD-1 let out alarmed beeps as the umbrella stand totters just slightly. Guess who'd been trying to hop up onto its edge?

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Fourth TDM: Winter's breath

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