- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Come clean; you have no name
[X] Share this information with Jill
Full disclosure is the best idea here.
[X] Share this information with Jill
Full disclosure is the best idea here.
Shimmer, Glimmer, & Gleam - A Quest of Loss & Gain
- Thread starter Morrowlark
- Start date
- Original Sci-Fi Fantasy Horror
[x] Come clean; you have no name
[x] Share this information with Jill
Welp! Someone decided it was a good idea to poke at, what I'm guessing, was the reflection of dreams? And then a fucking Eldritch Thing noticed and has poked back in some fashion. We don't really have a reason to not share this with Jill right now, and shes been tolerant of our eccentricities in this initial meeting
Also, we have no reflection or shadow... so we may be something from the Mirror. Whether we took over the original mind behind here, or swapped places somehow, remains to be seen. WELP!
[x] Share this information with Jill
Welp! Someone decided it was a good idea to poke at, what I'm guessing, was the reflection of dreams? And then a fucking Eldritch Thing noticed and has poked back in some fashion. We don't really have a reason to not share this with Jill right now, and shes been tolerant of our eccentricities in this initial meeting
Also, we have no reflection or shadow... so we may be something from the Mirror. Whether we took over the original mind behind here, or swapped places somehow, remains to be seen. WELP!
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
I do wonder if we had lost Dream Logic if we wouldn't have Gifts, or if they'd just be weaker.
Hopefully when we sleep we can dream we can fly so we can give ourselves a superpower.
Hopefully when we sleep we can dream we can fly so we can give ourselves a superpower.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Also, are the dogs mutated normal dogs, or nightmares of getting bitten by a dog whatever given form?
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
How much finding out matters to you might be something to think about long term.
Damn, it might actually be global. A hybrid scenario consisting of reality reconfiguration and species transmutation, but it's weird how humanity turned into... I'm going to call it veilglass, and the city on fire, then the Impact arrived. Were there two Impacts, or did something occur beforehand, like a metaphysical equivalent of the sea receding before a tsunami?
So mirrors, huh? As a medium. Interesting.
[X] Come clean; you have no name
[X] Share this information with Jill
So mirrors, huh? As a medium. Interesting.
[X] Come clean; you have no name
[X] Share this information with Jill
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
The recording mentioned fragmentation. Perhaps some pieces hit first, before the main body of Impact.
[X] Come clean; you have no name
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
Quick note from work lunch, party people; you might want to devote some thought to if you have any goals, and what they may be.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Short Term:
-Find or create a melee weapon to use just in case we want to conserve ammo.
-Find more people, not just to divide duties among, but also to put heads together on The Situation.
-Talk to Jill, find out what's her deal. What did she do before all this happened? What skills does she have? What's she learned so far?
-Mayyyyyyyyyybeeeeeeeeeeee do an autopsy on a dog-corpse? See if there's any medical knowledge we can glean?
-Do we have a phone signal yet? Can we message someone? Does social media work?
-Put Jill in front of a mirror, and see if something is up with that.
Medium-Long Term:
-This whole deal might not be reversible, but it's survivable. Can we push back the... NightMirror, for lack of a better term, and make a stable spot?
-This whole deal changed people. In what ways? Has anyone gained some sort of useful mutation or abilities from it, like fiction would suggest happens?
-Find or create a melee weapon to use just in case we want to conserve ammo.
-Find more people, not just to divide duties among, but also to put heads together on The Situation.
-Talk to Jill, find out what's her deal. What did she do before all this happened? What skills does she have? What's she learned so far?
-Mayyyyyyyyyybeeeeeeeeeeee do an autopsy on a dog-corpse? See if there's any medical knowledge we can glean?
-Do we have a phone signal yet? Can we message someone? Does social media work?
-Put Jill in front of a mirror, and see if something is up with that.
Medium-Long Term:
-This whole deal might not be reversible, but it's survivable. Can we push back the... NightMirror, for lack of a better term, and make a stable spot?
-This whole deal changed people. In what ways? Has anyone gained some sort of useful mutation or abilities from it, like fiction would suggest happens?
We also need to prepare for the titular Aftershocks.
Goals? I guess find more people, find a defensible area, come up with a short crisis plan in case of another disaster, natural or otherwise.
If some pieces hit first, then other pieces may hit at a later point.
Goals? I guess find more people, find a defensible area, come up with a short crisis plan in case of another disaster, natural or otherwise.
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
There's no rush to define concrete goals immediately; after all, you're all of maybe 38 hours old at this point. But you'll have to make some decisions here shortly.
A gentle reminder to the folks asking how Gifts might shake out; cashing one in is a surefire way to get an idea.
All that said, welcome to the tail end of my evening, party people. Human folks call this 'early morning', but here where the party don't stop it's whatever time I say it is. Let's dance.
A gentle reminder to the folks asking how Gifts might shake out; cashing one in is a surefire way to get an idea.
All that said, welcome to the tail end of my evening, party people. Human folks call this 'early morning', but here where the party don't stop it's whatever time I say it is. Let's dance.
Aftershocks 3: A Name Is A Gift; Like All Gifts, You Hope It Is Appreciated
New
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
Slightly In The Past (Post-Rescue Meal)
Answering 'do you have a name' should not be this difficult when the answer is pretty obviously 'no', but you have enough social awareness rattling around in your ravaged(?) mind to understand that this is not going to sound like a sane and sensible state of affairs from the outside. It's not even a sane and sensible state of affairs from the inside. From your perspective you were born in a bathroom and neither of your parents bothered showing up to it. That's a crazy person kinda sentence.
"Lass?" Jill asks, very gently. That's concern on its face, right? You're doing something concerning. "Lass, you look like you saw a ghost. You don't need to tell me, it's okay -"
Something inside your head that was blocking your ability to talk comes free, and with it comes everything. Everything. You definitely said, "I don't have a name," near the beginning, but the rest of this conversation is a blur in your memory, a swim of tears and soft sobbing as you explain how you woke up, what happened, about Nicole Bartman and the things that aren't enough like rats and the absolute terror that grips you when you're trying to sleep, that this time there's going to be another Impact, and you won't be ready, and you'll just shatter like those statues, and you don't, you can't, you don't want to die, and you're sorry, you don't know why you're crying like this you're sorry, Jill's had a hard time too it's not fair -
A hug from behind stops your blubbering, and you sob with your chin on Jill's arms. Your next clear memory is working on the soup.
Somewhere in there, Jill tells you, "I'm gonna call you Orchid, for now. A hidden flower. At least until you decide on another name, okay?"
And you'd said back: "Orchid," before pulling your mask back down over your face, and tucking your auburn hair behind your ears in vain for the bajillionth time.
* * * *
The Present
Following that spirit of disclosure, so agonizing in the moment and yet so remarkably freeing after the fact, you give Jill access to the splinter when it's your turn to sleep in the tent. "The person speaking is going to say some proper names," you warn it in your raspy voice. "Please don't say those names to me."
Jill raises an eyebrow. "You mad at 'em or somethin'?"
"...Jill, when I said there are words that make me cry blood I was being literal."
"...Oh."
"Yeah."
Your last thought when you drift off to sleep is that you really need to ask Jill what the fuck its gender is at some point soon, when you're not still raw and fragile from...everything coming out. Your first though when you wake up and stagger out of the tent like a member of the living dead is: it's been crying. You try to offer Jill silent comfort the way it offered that to you, sitting near your new friend(?) and lightly touching the back of its hand. You feel like a fool. How is Jill so good at this? How are you so bad? Should you even be touching -
Jill's hand squeezes yours gently.
"We have some problems," Jill murmurs. "From the sound of Doc -" you shake your head violently, and Jill course-corrects mid-word, "- this person, whatever just happened...it's not a usual manifestation or collective nightmare. It's. Our world changed, forever."
"Ontology," you murmur. "The metaphysics of being, of what makes a thing that thing. It sounded like he was...describing all of our reality as one ontology, and then we got...hit by another one? Like two pieces of ice in a river smashing against each other..."
"Sounds like," Jill says with a soft sigh. "...These prosthetics are part of me now, you know. They used to be plastic and steel. Now they have sensation like...not the point, we have some problems. Food, for one."
"Roof garden."
"Orchid..." The name makes you blink in confusion for a second before you remember, oh right, that's me, and a little thrill goes through you. "Life isn't like a videogame. Food doesn't grow in three days. If we plant a garden here, we have to stay here, and if we have to stay here we need to lay in food, fuel for the fire, fuel for the generators, maybe find more ammo -"
"Tobacco," you add in a tiny voice.
"...Tobacco," Jill concedes, "and a lot of places are going to be picked clean very fast. And if they aren't...I'm almost more worried if they aren't, 'cause that'd haveta mean they're dangerous to loot. Maybe we should pack up what we can carry, and find a better place."
You frown. Chew it over. Jill tells you to take your time and that you should eat anyway, and soon enough you're getting some of the Eternal Soup and trying to understand your own feelings. This is the place the refraction brought you to. Surely it's special, right? It's not a bad place, especially with how aggravating it would be for anyone to march on the freeway in force...there's so much roof space, so many tools and materials and even some vehicles that aren't damaged in the form of the tractors. That glass garden with the edible fruits and vegetables is here.
You met your friend here.
Should you leave that behind? Maybe it'd be pragmatic...
...Maybe you can do both. The voice that is not like yours had talked about oneiromancy, the practice of manifesting dreams. The glass over your heart might not be burning any more, but it's still warm. Still ready for...something. And that word, 'refraction', has been on your mind. A bending of light, such that a thing appears to be other than where it is. A strange word to use for the restructuring of an entire reality, but what if what got refracted was the ontological laws of both worlds? What if they could be refracted again, on a smaller scale...
Lose 1
[ ] Blood, sweat, and tears
[ ] This new home you barely know, but already love
[ ] One Gift, in an effort to accelerate your garden
You are 39 hours old.
Answering 'do you have a name' should not be this difficult when the answer is pretty obviously 'no', but you have enough social awareness rattling around in your ravaged(?) mind to understand that this is not going to sound like a sane and sensible state of affairs from the outside. It's not even a sane and sensible state of affairs from the inside. From your perspective you were born in a bathroom and neither of your parents bothered showing up to it. That's a crazy person kinda sentence.
"Lass?" Jill asks, very gently. That's concern on its face, right? You're doing something concerning. "Lass, you look like you saw a ghost. You don't need to tell me, it's okay -"
Something inside your head that was blocking your ability to talk comes free, and with it comes everything. Everything. You definitely said, "I don't have a name," near the beginning, but the rest of this conversation is a blur in your memory, a swim of tears and soft sobbing as you explain how you woke up, what happened, about Nicole Bartman and the things that aren't enough like rats and the absolute terror that grips you when you're trying to sleep, that this time there's going to be another Impact, and you won't be ready, and you'll just shatter like those statues, and you don't, you can't, you don't want to die, and you're sorry, you don't know why you're crying like this you're sorry, Jill's had a hard time too it's not fair -
A hug from behind stops your blubbering, and you sob with your chin on Jill's arms. Your next clear memory is working on the soup.
Somewhere in there, Jill tells you, "I'm gonna call you Orchid, for now. A hidden flower. At least until you decide on another name, okay?"
And you'd said back: "Orchid," before pulling your mask back down over your face, and tucking your auburn hair behind your ears in vain for the bajillionth time.
* * * *
The Present
Following that spirit of disclosure, so agonizing in the moment and yet so remarkably freeing after the fact, you give Jill access to the splinter when it's your turn to sleep in the tent. "The person speaking is going to say some proper names," you warn it in your raspy voice. "Please don't say those names to me."
Jill raises an eyebrow. "You mad at 'em or somethin'?"
"...Jill, when I said there are words that make me cry blood I was being literal."
"...Oh."
"Yeah."
Your last thought when you drift off to sleep is that you really need to ask Jill what the fuck its gender is at some point soon, when you're not still raw and fragile from...everything coming out. Your first though when you wake up and stagger out of the tent like a member of the living dead is: it's been crying. You try to offer Jill silent comfort the way it offered that to you, sitting near your new friend(?) and lightly touching the back of its hand. You feel like a fool. How is Jill so good at this? How are you so bad? Should you even be touching -
Jill's hand squeezes yours gently.
"We have some problems," Jill murmurs. "From the sound of Doc -" you shake your head violently, and Jill course-corrects mid-word, "- this person, whatever just happened...it's not a usual manifestation or collective nightmare. It's. Our world changed, forever."
"Ontology," you murmur. "The metaphysics of being, of what makes a thing that thing. It sounded like he was...describing all of our reality as one ontology, and then we got...hit by another one? Like two pieces of ice in a river smashing against each other..."
"Sounds like," Jill says with a soft sigh. "...These prosthetics are part of me now, you know. They used to be plastic and steel. Now they have sensation like...not the point, we have some problems. Food, for one."
"Roof garden."
"Orchid..." The name makes you blink in confusion for a second before you remember, oh right, that's me, and a little thrill goes through you. "Life isn't like a videogame. Food doesn't grow in three days. If we plant a garden here, we have to stay here, and if we have to stay here we need to lay in food, fuel for the fire, fuel for the generators, maybe find more ammo -"
"Tobacco," you add in a tiny voice.
"...Tobacco," Jill concedes, "and a lot of places are going to be picked clean very fast. And if they aren't...I'm almost more worried if they aren't, 'cause that'd haveta mean they're dangerous to loot. Maybe we should pack up what we can carry, and find a better place."
You frown. Chew it over. Jill tells you to take your time and that you should eat anyway, and soon enough you're getting some of the Eternal Soup and trying to understand your own feelings. This is the place the refraction brought you to. Surely it's special, right? It's not a bad place, especially with how aggravating it would be for anyone to march on the freeway in force...there's so much roof space, so many tools and materials and even some vehicles that aren't damaged in the form of the tractors. That glass garden with the edible fruits and vegetables is here.
You met your friend here.
Should you leave that behind? Maybe it'd be pragmatic...
...Maybe you can do both. The voice that is not like yours had talked about oneiromancy, the practice of manifesting dreams. The glass over your heart might not be burning any more, but it's still warm. Still ready for...something. And that word, 'refraction', has been on your mind. A bending of light, such that a thing appears to be other than where it is. A strange word to use for the restructuring of an entire reality, but what if what got refracted was the ontological laws of both worlds? What if they could be refracted again, on a smaller scale...
Lose 1
[ ] Blood, sweat, and tears
[ ] This new home you barely know, but already love
[ ] One Gift, in an effort to accelerate your garden
You are 39 hours old.
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
And now I'm going to fucking bed, party people. Remember to hydrate, take breaks between dances, and cheese it if the fuzz shows up.
Thanks for reading and participating!
Thanks for reading and participating!
Have a good night!
[X] This new home you barely know, but already love
[X] This new home you barely know, but already love
[X] One Gift, in an effort to accelerate your garden
Let's test this out! Roulette wheel of infinite possibility, here we go!!!
Let's test this out! Roulette wheel of infinite possibility, here we go!!!
I agree. I think having the Butcher's Bill somewhere accessible, at minimum, would do wonders to making sure people can keep track and keep up with things, no matter how long it has been.
Solarstream
It's all in the cards
- Location
- Zombie World
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] One Gift, in an effort to accelerate your garden
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] One Gift, in an effort to accelerate your garden
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
I've been on imageboards too damn long, that thought didn't even occur to me despite currently reading a Quest that does exactly this.
Which, speaking of: morning party people, how do I sort threadmarks into tabs like they are in, say, Divided Loyalties?
Kermie
Surprisingly Not A Frog
- Location
- Somewhere On The Planet
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
Where it says "threadmarks"; hit the little X, than tap again for options
- Pronouns
- He/Him
...so Jill had lost some part of their body before all this, but when this refraction hit, because they... perceived the prosethetics as 'a part of them', they fused to them and they became part of their body. Interesting, and has some implications on how body image collides with dreams.
I wonder if the refraction would give trans people instant HRT, heh.
The Butcher's Bill
New
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
The Butcher's Bill
'ware spoilers, O ye archive reader or new participant; this will be updated as things go on.
'ware spoilers, O ye archive reader or new participant; this will be updated as things go on.
Name: Currently, your name is Orchid; it was a gift from Jill
Health: Okay; you lost a lot of blood growing a roof garden recently.
Fashion: Form-concealing layers with more pockets than a god
Weapons: Your weapon of choice is your .45 bottom-barrel revolver; you have
Intangible Assets
First Aid training; a doctor saves your life. You keep people comfortable while they die.
Time at the gun range; you know gun safety, use, and maintenance. You are most comfortable with revolvers and pistols, though with time and ammo learning another firearm shouldn't be difficult.
A talent for dream logic; there's something so strangely familiar about the alien world that has come, isn't there?
Your privacy; your mind is your private sanctum
Forklift certification; this body knows how to drive forklifts and other retail vehicles. And really likes it.
Tangible Assets
A Home; Currently a single building divided into two defunct businesses (Jillian's Farm & Fleet and Dirty Dick's Crab Shack), your home has space, tools, tractors in potentia, generators that might be encouraged to work, a deep and wide selection of clothing, snacks, some real food, supplies to garden, firewood for your Eternal Soup, medicine, and a roof that doesn't leak yet.
A Glass Garden; these plants are not enough like the ones that you know. Their life is alien to this world, and they make Jill uncomfortable in an odd way. But they're edible and nutritious, and "safely" inside Jillian's Farm & Fleet.
A keycard; Provides access to the labs at Threshold Innovations, Ltd. It's labeled Nicole Bartman, who died for you, mostly because you killed it. It was an accident. It. It was an accident...
A phone; none of the Contacts exist any more (though you can still manually call the numbers, maybe), but it's charged, it has slots for 2 more data splinters at a time, and the screen is even intact. Haven't had time to see if it works yet.
2 data splinters; up to a terabyte of storage space each, small enough to slot into your phone. One is barely used at all, containing only recordings from the mysterious person whose comforting voice was not like yours. The other, uninvestigated, is labeled PICS 4 JESSIE; the dots over the 'i's are little butterflies.
Gifts
You have two potential Gifts
The Glass Thumb; you can cause a local refraction to encourage those odd glass-and-metal plants to grow, assuming you have seeds and soil. Getting them started is relatively painless; making them grow instantly, bear fruit more often, or otherwise be less like 'normal' plants and more like something out of a dream takes a toll on your body and mind.
Tangible Losses
Some possessions; you have no way to know these are missing, and might never find out, but there are things someone or something took which you, therefore, do not currently have. The only one you have any conscious relationship to is your missing cigarettes and lighter; even then, it's more that your body is craving something that the scent of tobacco reminds you of. Someone in Salt Bay City has cigarettes and they're going to share or someone's going to get hurt.
Four bullets; expended to rescue your new friend(?), Jill Hatter.
Intangible Losses
Your identity; you can't remember any details about yourself, and a lot of the supplementary information is missing too. What gender are you? Fuck if you know, you're not even sure what gender anyone else is. Your original name, if there ever was one, is gone, and many other names are also gone. When exposed directly to evidence of your identity, or those other identities, you experience agonizing pain and possibly injury.
Your reflection; you have no reflection, you cannot be recorded by cameras, telescopes and spyglasses and binoculars fail to see you entirely. Praise the gods that you're audible and/or visible to the naked eye or things would be really weird.
Your shadow; the Reformed Temple of the Deep Dreamers teaches that the shadow is part of your soul. You really wish you would stop remembering that every time you look and see that you aren't casting one, no matter where the light is or how bright that light might be.
Your innocence; people have died for you. You ought to know; you killed them.
A certain artistic bent; you used to be better at this. You remember...not remember...you know you're supposed to be good at this. Why aren't you good at this any more? Why -
Tinkering; the pointy end of the nail goes down, right?
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Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
I do not know why that second spoiler block keeps coming back no matter how many times I FUCKING DELETE IT but barring fixing that shit, behold.
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
That double spoiler bug was a real fly in my drink, party people. But we're moving on.
This one goes out to all the dreamers.
This one goes out to all the dreamers.