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sticksandbones2024-01-05 07:59 am
sticksandbonesmods) wrote in sticksandbones2024-01-05 07:59 am
Entry tags:
EVENT & TDM 008
LET IT GO
WAKE UP
It’s strange, how as the dawn of a new day finally arrives, coinciding with the howling winds dying out, classic, adorable snowmen seem to have popped up all over the Grove overnight. The fog wall has yet to surround the barren remains of a town that once was, but it’s visible once more in the great distance.
Not that you can see it immediately. Something covers your eyes, and you can feel something heavy and frigid wrapped all around you. As you struggle more and more, the crunch of snow echoes through your ears as you step free- and when you turn back to examine their prison, you’ll realize one of the snowmen was you.
Meanwhile, old residents will get to deal with more and more people popping out of snowmen like daisies, and must remember that this is just their life now. It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.
Though, maybe you ought to help them before frostbite sets in.
Not that you can see it immediately. Something covers your eyes, and you can feel something heavy and frigid wrapped all around you. As you struggle more and more, the crunch of snow echoes through your ears as you step free- and when you turn back to examine their prison, you’ll realize one of the snowmen was you.
Meanwhile, old residents will get to deal with more and more people popping out of snowmen like daisies, and must remember that this is just their life now. It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.
Though, maybe you ought to help them before frostbite sets in.
MIRROR, MIRROR
The quiet couldn’t last forever. You should have known that something would happen, especially with the fog beginning to make itself known again. And this time, it’s something quiet. As you wake up one morning, there is a mirror on your nightstand — it’s silver and round, able to fit comfortably in your hand and wreathed in crystalline snowflakes.
And as you look into it, your reflection twists into something still undeniably you, but… have you a temper problem? Too many lies? A sadistic sense of humor? All of your worst traits are dragged out and reflected on the mirror, and no matter what, it keeps ending up wherever you are — and whoever else looks into the mirror will see this awful, terrible you, too. All of your worst characteristics, all the things you try to hide, unable to be hidden.
Maybe you keep trying to hide it. Maybe you let it stay wherever it keeps turning up, following you like a particularly terrible walking salesman, or maybe you break it. Regardless, nothing seems to happen… for now.
And as you look into it, your reflection twists into something still undeniably you, but… have you a temper problem? Too many lies? A sadistic sense of humor? All of your worst traits are dragged out and reflected on the mirror, and no matter what, it keeps ending up wherever you are — and whoever else looks into the mirror will see this awful, terrible you, too. All of your worst characteristics, all the things you try to hide, unable to be hidden.
Maybe you keep trying to hide it. Maybe you let it stay wherever it keeps turning up, following you like a particularly terrible walking salesman, or maybe you break it. Regardless, nothing seems to happen… for now.
WITH SHARDS OF ICE
“For now”.
Late into the night, everyone wakes up to a sudden, terrible chill. When you open your eyes, you’ll find that you aren’t in your inn room or home, but instead within a giant castle made of ice. It must be a ballroom of some sort, a grand hall glittering in the moonlight — but looking out the window shows that the world beyond the castle is but a frozen wasteland of more blizzards and nothing else. Though you’ve been granted some of your gear — weapons and some supplies, and coats if you’re lucky — you’ll find that the temperature is dropping steadily, while something approaches…
Peek out the door to the main hall and you’ll see what’s coming so noisily. An army’s worth of hallowed ice knights with all sorts of weapons are marching to the door, intent on slaying the intruders. Should they get close, they’ll attack; should they land the killing blow, you’ll instantly freeze into a solid block and shatter.
And if you broke the mirror that haunted you? On top of all of this, you can feel yourself gradually growing colder, physically and emotionally, and your magic, if you have it, takes on an icy flair that you may find difficult to control. Maybe it's your feet that start to turn to ice first — maybe it's your fingertips. But as the night goes on, you’ll steadily freeze solid, and like any fairy tale, only an act of true love could possibly save you. Good luck figuring out what that actually means. True love’s kiss? A genuine compliment? A hug? What could possibly save you from your fate?
Those of you who survive until morning, who don’t become solid statues of ice or die within the castle’s walls, will be lucky enough to witness the sun coming up through narrow windows the size of your forearm. All around you, the castle starts to melt, dripping freezing water onto your head. For as much as you try to run before you, presumably, drown terribly…
…your eyes will close, and you’ll wake up in your bed, drenched.
Late into the night, everyone wakes up to a sudden, terrible chill. When you open your eyes, you’ll find that you aren’t in your inn room or home, but instead within a giant castle made of ice. It must be a ballroom of some sort, a grand hall glittering in the moonlight — but looking out the window shows that the world beyond the castle is but a frozen wasteland of more blizzards and nothing else. Though you’ve been granted some of your gear — weapons and some supplies, and coats if you’re lucky — you’ll find that the temperature is dropping steadily, while something approaches…
Peek out the door to the main hall and you’ll see what’s coming so noisily. An army’s worth of hallowed ice knights with all sorts of weapons are marching to the door, intent on slaying the intruders. Should they get close, they’ll attack; should they land the killing blow, you’ll instantly freeze into a solid block and shatter.
And if you broke the mirror that haunted you? On top of all of this, you can feel yourself gradually growing colder, physically and emotionally, and your magic, if you have it, takes on an icy flair that you may find difficult to control. Maybe it's your feet that start to turn to ice first — maybe it's your fingertips. But as the night goes on, you’ll steadily freeze solid, and like any fairy tale, only an act of true love could possibly save you. Good luck figuring out what that actually means. True love’s kiss? A genuine compliment? A hug? What could possibly save you from your fate?
Those of you who survive until morning, who don’t become solid statues of ice or die within the castle’s walls, will be lucky enough to witness the sun coming up through narrow windows the size of your forearm. All around you, the castle starts to melt, dripping freezing water onto your head. For as much as you try to run before you, presumably, drown terribly…
…your eyes will close, and you’ll wake up in your bed, drenched.
FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW
The morning after that dreadful night, things… settle, again. Aldric’s Grove is quiet, and clear sunlight glistens across the snowy plaza and radiates off of frosted trees. Even now, the apple tree and blackberry bushes are unfazed by the cold, though the fruit may taste crisper and chillier than usual. Those that died within the castle return to life, feeling colder than normal for the rest of the day, but there seems to be no lasting damage. And, everyone who participated in the castle “game” receives a mysterious gift: A wooden coin with a sigil on it, resembling a clock with backwards hands behind a shield, attached to frosted pinecones, red berries and sprigs of mistletoe. It feels warm and protective.
You go outside. It’s been some time since anyone’s seen anything from the woods, let alone something that doesn’t want them dead — so imagine one’s surprise when a small family of deer can be seen walking amongst the trees. Birds alight to the branches on rare moments, and it’s surely a sign of something, that life has begun to return to the forest despite the deep snow and deeper chill.
Never mind that one of the deer has an extra set of antlers and another has three eyes. Never mind that the birds sound like people. Never mind that the rabbits have blood on their maws.
It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.
You go outside. It’s been some time since anyone’s seen anything from the woods, let alone something that doesn’t want them dead — so imagine one’s surprise when a small family of deer can be seen walking amongst the trees. Birds alight to the branches on rare moments, and it’s surely a sign of something, that life has begun to return to the forest despite the deep snow and deeper chill.
Never mind that one of the deer has an extra set of antlers and another has three eyes. Never mind that the birds sound like people. Never mind that the rabbits have blood on their maws.
It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.
SPARK NOTES
CLICK TO EXPAND!
WAKE UP
Good day, new arrivals! You are now a snowman. Hopefully people who have been here a bit longer are willing to give you a blanket or ten.
MIRROR, MIRROR
A mirror appears and starts following you around, reflecting what you think are your worst traits or worst version of yourself is. Other people can look into it and see the awful you, too. You can break it and it'll leave you alone, or you can let it stalk you all month.
WITH SHARDS OF ICE
Welcome to the ice castle! It's cold, but you have your stuff with you, and it's not unlivable. Well, until the frozen army of knights starts marching in with the intent to kill everyone inside, anyway. One lethal hit from them will make you shatter into pieces. For those of you who broke your mirrors, you'll gradually grow colder both physically & emotionally, and eventually start to freeze solid. Don't worry, though, you can be saved through the power of love.
FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW
Dawn rises on the Grove and the dead come back to life. Everyone who participated in the castle game receives a magical charm, though they don't know what it does so far. Animals come back to the Grove as well! ...why do they look like that?
OOC
Happy January! TDMs are game canon as a reminder, and if you'd like to plot with people for this event, head over to OOC plotting. While it is not known to player characters at this time, the charms granted as a reward for the ice castle can undo one future negative effect (i.e. a major death). They are a one-time use item. As for how characters discover this information... idk, we'll see how y'all decide to utilize those. :)
UPDATES
❖ None yet!
I | HELLO HAT BRO. i mean arson bird— my poor door /jk
...Even if he had to endure countless hours of loneliness. But that had always been the case for the nine long years before he first snuck onboard the landship, Rhodes Island's — had always been the case for him, the Troupe Leader's unfinished opus, whose soul had been stained with the crimson shine of madness.
But at least in Rhodes Island, he had a place to belong, to stay in — a place where he actually felt a semblance of safety; a place where they thought of him as one of their own and fought to bring him back from the accursed castle. The Feline had grown accustomed to its nooks and crannies, its hustle and bustle and silences in some parts of the landship.
...It was, in plenty of ways, home.
And even if this place - Aldric's Grove - feels strangely familiar and alien at the same time, much like the castle at Calais-Blason, it was still leaning heavily towards the latter, which makes him feel antsy in addition to being uneasy. PARANOID, PARANOID. The VOICE calls out mockingly in his mind, in an almost singsong tone. He could almost imagine how his reflection would look like, in that accursed silver mirror.
Almost.
The presence of another, who approached with swift steps, disturbed Phantom from his thoughts and the siren song of his mirror. It was not too late for him to vanish, like a shadow, or like his code name suggested, but...perhaps he is curious.
...Or perhaps, he is lonely. Forlorn. Much like the edge of this settlement, where The Woods seemed to go on forever, framed by mysterious fog, not unlike the one surrounding his old castle. The lack of his usual cloak means that his visage is visible, and he turned slightly towards the newcomer when he is close enough to him. ]
...Yes. [ He shrugs, a bit noncommittally, as if he hadn't just been harangued, indeed, by the presence and aura of the aforementioned mirror. The Feline avoided the other operator's gaze, the eyebags below his eyes betrayed his sleeplessness. He knew who this bespectacled operator is, albeit in passing: a Liberi from Kjerag, belonging to Karlan Trade. Gnosis. Not that he particularly cares. This man isn't The Doctor, after all. ] I see I am not the only one. Is this...some sort of a curse? A jest? Divine punishment? Or perhaps merely a regular old day here?
[ The last bit was delivered rather sarcastically, even if his tone generally remained flat. ]
Who else is here?
no subject
[Dare he bring it up? Well, being polite and minding people's feelings has never been Gnosis' thing, so:]
Shalem and Irene, neither of which are here now, both of which disappeared under mysterious circumstances I cannot ascertain. [Though he has a feeling they're both dead. That thought, he doesn't voice.] To your other questions — a "curse" may be apt, given all that has happened here, but I'm not so superstitious as to believe in such.
[He shakes his head. The feathers hanging by his ear are just a tad ruffled.]
no subject
...But their esteemed superior wasn't here, and thoughts of said person made him nearly sigh. He loathed to admit it, but he...was starting to miss The Doctor. And he was asking that question because he wanted to know if their commander was here or not.
Gnosis's answer, however, serves as confirmation that The Doctor wasn't with them in the Grove. Phantom felt relieved, yet even more forlorn at the same time.
He was alone. Again. ]
...I see. [ He simply said, not ruffled by the apparent tactlessness of the other operator. Despite being a former stage actor and singer (even if that was only a mask), he wasn't one to display excessive emotions, either. That Lucian belongs to another time, not the man he is now — the phantom that he had become, to both his former self and his former life. ] So Abyss was here — had been here at some point.
[ Unlike Gnosis, the Feline didn't bother to correct himself. Shalem is no longer Abyss, but what's the difference? Neither of them could ever truly escape the Troupe's grasp and its influence. Still, it feels like deja vu, although he didn't say it aloud. ]
Yes. You are a man of science. I am aware. [ He shifts his gaze, briefly, to the sky above them, his expression inscrutable, before he brought them back to meet the Liberi's. ] Perhaps I needed such a man to lend me his assistance. I suppose we should talk elsewhere.
no subject
[Of everyone here, Gnosis has been here the longest, followed by Mizuki; the Liberi therefore has encyclopaedic knowledge of this place and its workings, even if none of them make sense and he's long given up on trying to untangle the various threads of nonsense.
To the inn they'll go, though, likely with the mirrors teleporting after them. Gnosis' chirps from behind them something about how he's just as reckless as the ones he criticises, which is hilarious, because isn't he just another coward? and he pointedly ignores it. Shut up, mirror, he doesn't have to listen to you.
Once they're within the much warmer walls of the inn, not that the temperature has ever bothered Gnosis one bit, he sits down on the couch and motions for Phantom to do much the same.]
I suppose, [he begins, with something of a sigh lacing his voice,] the most important item on the itinerary is this: This place is not Terra. You'll find many people here from "other" worlds, with their own colourful backgrounds and histories. None of them are infected with Oripathy, nor do we have anyone here qualified to treat it, and none of them are aware of any Terran struggles beyond what might have been shared by other Operators at this stage.
cw: mention(s) of death, terminal illness, mention(s) of depression, suicide & suicide ideation
[ Phantom accepted the suggestion without much questioning, accompanied with the slightest hint of a nod, the VOICE in his mind quieting down for once. The mirror is still there regardless of that fact, and he could still hear its siren song - figuratively speaking - but there are more important matters at hand now, thankfully.
To the inn they go, together — despite the lingering question he still had regarding The Doctor, he'd also learnt when to cooperate with others during his stay in Rhodes Island. Thus, the Feline kept the question to himself, and followed suit. A glance was spared in the direction of Gnosis's mirror when it chirps, but otherwise, he minds his own business.
...And focusing on the matter at hand, because otherwise he'd spiral down a hole of loneliness and depression, feeling more lost than ever. Both Miss Christine and The Doctor had been his anchor, and neither of them was with him in the Grove. At the very least, the former was most certainly wasn't here, although the naive part of him, that Lucian, still harbours a small bit of hope that the latter was, somehow, here.
But that was a selfish thought. He should have been happy that The Doctor is safe and sound back in Rhodes Island, along with that Perro operator who was his co-star once in a movie of Director Nian's — the one with a blinding smile and a...strangely therapeutic presence.
The keyword being should. ]
...I apologise. I was a little lost in my thoughts. [ He voiced, after realising that he'd spent a moment or so hovering awkwardly before the sofa, as if he had lost the plot. At least he was certain that he was 'awake' — for the most part, that is. The VOICE let out a small, derisive laugh at this thought, as Phantom sat beside the other operator on the sofa, putting a safe distance between them. He still wouldn't risk hurting Gnosis, especially not with the mirror weakening his already weak sense of self further. ] Please begin.
[ Though, it seems like his companion needed no encouragement, as the man immediately began with his explanation. There was no surprise on his otherwise stoic visage, no ripples at all on that still, unreadable lake; Phantom might have been carved from statue. Or he might have been a snowman, just like one of those many strange ones dotting the Grove ever since this morning. When he speaks again, his tone, despite still being carefully maintained to not betray any stray inflections, was careful, thoughtful. ]
I have no cause to doubt your words. You do know what you are talking about, after all. And all of this was too...real, too elaborate to be a prank. It is not one of my many nightmares, either, or a trick that my mind had so often spun. Neither was it a hallucination. By the process of logical elimination, I have no reason to doubt you or the merit of your explanation, either. [ Despite being a haunted man, and one often trapped between nightmares and reality, he isn't stupid. A slightly longer pause transpired after this initial response (probably more words than he ever spoke to any other operators for the past four years), and he regarded Gnosis silently before he added: ] However...you mentioned that no one here is qualified to treat Oripathy, and none of these...people from other worlds were even aware of it, let alone understood.
[ As much as he hated the check-ups, and as pessimistic as he was towards the treatments - even years onboard the landship still could hardly change his mind about it - that was practically the only thing that stood between him and certain death, at least outside of field operations. ]
Then...what do we - the Infected - do about it?
[ He was more aware than anyone that they lived on borrowed time, and that the treatments are merely prolonging the pain, cheating death of his due by borrowing just one more year, as if life isn't hell in itself — as if thoughts of death hasn't been haunting him every waking moment.
...Sometimes he desired it so badly that it was as if death was a memory. A dearly beloved one, at that. He sighed, and rubs his temple, as his mirror chimes in, in a cold voice not unlike the one haunting him in his mind: 'YOU SHOULD JUST END YOUR LIFE, LUCIAN. THERE IS NO POINT TO IT ANYMORE.' ]
Please...just shut up for once. [ He retorted, weakly, for a moment forgetting that Gnosis was still in the room, burying his face in his hands. ]
no subject
[It's like talking to half the people here. Phantom is not the only one with a voice in his head; Mizuki does the same thing, talking to himself, and a few non-Terrans have done so in the past as well. Sometimes he wonders if y'all are okay.
It's no matter, though. Gnosis isn't offended, merely making a comment, and he continues his explanation easily enough.]
This place — Aldric's Grove, or "the Grove" if you're pressed for time — does have a doctor. I work closely with him at times. His clinic is next door to my lab, and we often share the space. His name is Add, but he is, unfortunately, someone outside of Terra. I don't believe the other Infected here have had many dealings with him.
[Kreide, possibly, but Passenger doesn't exactly cooperate.]
Providing Doctor Add with the requisite understanding of Oripathy — materials, research, et cetera — should give him what he needs to work toward what Rhodes Island previously had. Otherwise, I may be the most qualified here to assist, as...
[As he's done enough awful experimentation to try to treat Oripathy in the past? Let's not say that one.]
...one of my majors when I was in university was around Originium and life sciences. I'm no Medic, but perseverance has never led me astray before. For the time being, place faith in what we do have here, as little as it is.
[He'll give Phantom that much, before he starts dropping what is effectively a nuclear bomb on the situation. A "hey, did you know reincarnation is a thing and we've been here before?" type of bomb.]
Phantom: guess ill die ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
He looked like a man who was freshly roused from his slumber and was still confused, unable to discern between his dreams and the waking world that he'd woke up into. ]
You...did not hear that? The mirror - mine - had just spoke— [ The VOICE laughed in his mind, coldly, entertained. YOU ARE HEARING THINGS AGAIN, LUCIAN. REMEMBER, YOU ARE A MAD MAN. ] —Never mind. I suppose it was only in my head. Again. And the music...
[ His eyes grew unfocused for a moment, although fortunately, he managed to get ahold of himself, and he sighs, once again rubbing his temple lightly before casting his gaze elsewhere. His silver mirror, for its part, had teleported to the space beside him, on the sofa, between him and Gnosis — he still refused to see it. Phantom's stubbornness are quite commendable, really.
If the other operator spares his mirror a glance, it'll show him an image of an empty, eerie stage, and a faint yet discernible singing can be heard in the back. Perhaps that was the 'music' that he'd mentioned just now? Or perhaps...it was simply the manifestation of the one that he'd always heard in the back of his mind - the Troupe Mouthpiece's inception and the Leader's opus - the endless music of the night, inviting him to take the stage once more? ]
...Faith. I have never had the luxury of it, unfortunately. Not that I particularly cared about my condition. I am aware that I have only a few years, at most, and considering what you'd just said, operator Gnosis, then I am a dead man walking. My Infection rate is likely higher than anyone else here. [ A small, self-depreciating laugh sounded from him, as jarring as an off-key note, or a piano that plays itself in a dismal, abandoned castle. He brought his face to rest in his hand, closing his eyes and mumbled, in a dark tone: ] ...Perhaps I should just go ahead and end my life, as the mirror - the voice in my head - had just kindly suggested.
[ The metaphorical nuclear bomb hadn't even been dropped yet by Gnosis and already he let out one (1) suicidal thought, although at least - even in the absence of Miss Christine, top-notch emotional support for a depressed Feline - Phantom raised his face from his hand after a few moments, getting back on topic. (As if he hadn't just had a minor mental breakdown; in other words, just another day for him.) ]
...You mentioned materials and research for the doctor. How do we obtain the former? Do I have to let him take samples from my body, then? [ He looked doubtful as he said this, although he could be persuaded to do so, providing one knew how to play one's cards right. ] You seem like you still have more to say, however. Go on. I hardly doubt it could send me to an even worse mental place than it already is.
crying phantom nooo
[Phantom's mirror goes acknowledged, but Gnosis simply picks it up and moves it to the coffee table, facedown, a silent show of solidarity. His own is... somewhere. When he looks for it, it's stuck itself to the opposite wall, yammering on, though it's difficult to hear from this distance. Good. Shut up, mirror.]
...those of us here are unable to die permanently. Death comes for us, yes, but there's a chance we'll return. I say a "chance", because not everyone who has died has come back. Still, the impermanence of it all warrants mentioning. This is not to say that you should be reckless and throw caution to the wind — I would recommend the opposite, in fact — but it is to say that if something happens, there's a likelihood you come back to life. It seems that death outside of the "games" the forest plays with us warrants a trip to what we call the Garden, where someone must recover you from its grasp, and the cost for leaving is losing something else. A limb, for example.
[Gruesome topic. Gnosis' brow creases, and his feathers puff up in a way that signals he's internally disturbed by the topic, but he's moving on from that.]
There's one other thing. At some point in the past, all of us were here before — centuries ago, in something of a "past life". There was a tragedy that occurred in this place according to the shadow-people and the gargoyle on the church's roof, and that tragedy resulted in the untimely demise of everyone here. We were then reincarnated into our current lives, perhaps even some lives in between considering the length of time that has passed, and brought back here through a "ritual" that I have minimal understanding of.
I don't mean to infodump at you. I understand that this is a lot, so ask any questions you have.
[There it is. The nuclear bomb.]
sorry, it is how it is (NO)
...That sounds familiar. This would hardly be my first time being trapped someplace where even death would not be able to free me. I suppose the grim reaper must have despised my soul very much. [ That last bit was a wry jest of sorts, delivered with a grim look. Even Gnosis's descriptions about the passage of time in the Grove, and how one must pay a grim price after being rescued and then coming back to life sounds deeply familiar, if not unsettlingly so. It didn't help that even his equally (if not more) stoic interlocutor looks quite visibly disturbed during his elaboration of this. ] Rest assured, it is hardly my first time being a plaything, too.
[ He glances at his mirror, and then the Liberi's mirror. Perhaps it was some sort of reassurance towards Gnosis that he wouldn't play hard and fast with his life, despite his expression/dark joke about ending his own life — although he cannot guarantee that it would be the case outside of missions and even perhaps...those 'games' that the other had mentioned. It would be easy, after all, to pretend to put up a fight and then losing. Or to walk into the line of fire with the pretext of helping out the others.
...It's all too easy. Besides, The Doctor wasn't here. The Doctor wasn't here. His fist silently clenches; when it unclenches a moment later, his expression was blank. He was deathly calm. ]
It's quite alright. You have done me a favour by telling me all this instead of keeping me in the dark. Thank you, operator Gnosis.
[ He nods, certainly feeling that he wasn't wrong in trusting his instincts to ask the other for assistance. He might not know him all that well back in Rhodes Island, but Gnosis's expertise and inclination towards science and rationality is well-known, and in unfamiliar situations, aside from his superior, such a man would be of great help.
For such a learned man of science and logic to speak of a 'ritual', 'past life', and 'reincarnation', however...then this forest (or whatever supernatural entity it harbours) must have either trapped them in a collective hallucination, or...well, that was merely the truth, plain and simple. He was not unfamiliar with the game and process of deduction, after all, although he wasn't a man of science like Gnosis. ]
Is it anything like a Sarkaz ritual? I might be able to help, if you provide me with more details regarding this 'ritual'. I am no Sarkaz nor Leithanian, and I could not claim any quantitative expertise on this matter, either, but... [ Phantom trails off, hesitating for a bit. ] ...I might know a thing or two, from my time with the Troupe — the Crimson Troupe. I am not privy to the details of rituals involving souls and their contract and entrapment, or the reverse, unfortunately, but I might be able to shed a little more light on the matter. Perhaps.
[ Even without The Doctor, he still would have to make himself useful. It helps to distract him, too, from the...gloominess and disease that was his mind and soul, stained with madness and murder. ]
You mentioned the 'forest'. Is there any entity residing in it that you are aware of so far? You spoke of it as if it were sentient. A Feranmut— no, something akin to it, perhaps? I might be able to help with more dangerous operations; even organise them, should the situation arise. You need only to call me.
wheezes sorry for the delay!
[Someone has been talking to some of the Lateran operators, it would seem.]
Snide commentary aside, [no, it's Gnosis, there's no end to it with him,] yes, there is something within the forest that gives it powers akin to that of a Feranmut, though we've been advised to avoid calling it such. According to the Gargoyle that sits on the church's roof, [boy this is a lot,] words have power in this place. Believing in an outcome is guaranteed to make it true, in which case, collectively referring to something as a deity is likely to give it that extra power. We've all been told to refer to it as "the Creature", "the False God", or any other set of potentially-derogatory names in an effort to reduce some of its hold on us. "The Forest", capital F, is generally how people refer to it in shorthand.
[He shakes his head.]
I'll admit, such talk is genuinely beyond me, but I've been thrown from the comfort of my lab to a more Arts-focused environment, and I have no choice but to take those that have spent centuries here at their word. Admittedly, I've seen some of this "power of words" in action in the past, so there's evidence enough to support it.
[That doesn't mean he enjoys it, though. Gnosis prefers cold and clinical facts to a small creature made of stone saying "just make a wish, that'll work".]
Not to worry, we are all...slow...here... (dies)
[ Aside from the quiet determination underlying his words as well as the flickers of its flame in his yellow-golden eyes, Phantom seemed to have regained not only his composure but his footing, as well. It seems to have an effect on his silver mirror, somehow, despite the distance between it and him now - that Gnosis had helpfully put - since the thing seemed to have grown quieter. The VOICE, too, was suddenly quiet.
Everything that the other operator said next in his further (and continued elaboration) did not seem to ruffle him, either — now that the initial metaphorical nuclear bomb has been dropped, and he's had his initial mental breakdown as well as the...early confusion and everything out of his system, even if there was indeed a lot to unpack, nothing fazes him anymore.
That, and the fact that he was perhaps (and likely) a direct contrast to the Liberi when it comes to all this...strangeness, due to the the many similarities it shared with his past experiences with the Troupe and the old castle, means that he did not bat an eye at whatever Gnosis was throwing at him next, not even at that stray mention of 'those that have spent centuries here at their word'.
...It's more or less a regular day for him, essentially. Now that he'd regained his footing, the Feline seemed as stoic as ever. ]
I see. I should thank you for your further and additional elaboration as well. It is certainly the most reasonable course of action, speaking from my own experience in a...similar matter as well. At the very least, I suppose you could perhaps call it that. Might I ask, then...is this your first time dealing with...'such talk', operator Gnosis? [ From his mention that he's been 'thrown out from his lab to an Arts-focused environment', that seems to be the case. ] It is not necessarily an 'Arts-focused environment', if I may opine. I do not question your expertise nor your dedication to science and rationality, but...there are simply some things that one cannot explain with them, adequately or otherwise. I understand that...you are different from most of your countrymen on your stance regarding superstitions and such, and I have heard some things about Kjerag, but sometimes...there is no other explanation than that. Even as unsatisfying and infuriating as it might be. We are all naught but puppets to forces beyond our control, after all.
[ Phantom heaved another sigh, leaning back into his seat and falling quiet for a long moment after that. ]
My apologies, however — I did not mean to impose my beliefs upon you. You have certainly toiled for the truth, and I suppose we all should thank you for that. And...this might sound peculiar or sudden, but... [ He paused for a moment, assessing his interlocutor's visage first. ] ...Since I cannot remember and my own memory failed me at times, might I also ask if you were a member in one of the teams that had participated in the rescue operation — mine, to a particular castle, some two years back?