WEEK 4

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 4

[After the meeting, Lilac gives everyone a small vial of something red. Those who left the meeting receive it from the rats on the crew. She gives instructions as to how to take it. Take in a drink, preferably tea. Drink it slowly. Make sure you can get to your bed once you finish. The headache will come quickly.

Nevertheless, even as everyone slips into sleep, they are visited once more by the Conductor in what must have been a dream. Or was it? It's not clear.

She is quiet as she speaks, looking out the windows, even though the view is obscured by the glass.

"I know you think me as a monster. Maybe I am after all these years. I have no illusions. But I cannot regret the things I've done.

"Nor can I regret the Bazaar...it was so wonderful. It opened my eyes to the truth of things and opened doors I never could have seen on my own. It was the first time I felt true love for another. I wasn't the only one-my daughter, too, passed through the Wicket. Saw the sea more sunless within the Bazaar's body. Learned as I learned. She sought to rival me in symbols, in marking skin."

She closes her eyes.

"She is dead now, of course. Everyone I knew in the Neath-on our Earth-is. Well. Almost everyone. London endures, naturally. But the Echo Bazaar...it's beautiful promise...it's gone. The Seventh City will never fall, and it's Message will forever remain undelivered. Of all the creatures in the universe who might remember it, I am alone in honoring it.

"Perhaps it's noble. Perhaps it's foolish. In any case, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it's the thought that's important. As long as I am here, there is yet a possibility that the deed may be finished, somehow.

"Still, I wonder. Maybe you have the answer.

What happens to a Message, when neither the sender and receiver exist anymore?"




As the day dawns, everyone wakes up to the sound of howling winds and darkness. Their head hurts, but they do have a new memory to accompany the ache. They are also at a new port. It is a dark place, teetering on the edge of safe space and the unknown in between void, where those who enter rarely return. Or, so you have to assume, right? Either way, that blackness on the deep horizon doesn't look particularly fun to try to drive through.

There is a legitimate fear in Lilac's expression that betrays her for the first time, as she lets everyone disembark, including the unicorn and the young man, who quickly jump onto another train to get away from this place. She also refuses to leave the train. She does leave you with a fair warning.

The Synod of Carcels is dangerous, in its own way, and everyone can feel it. Everyone can feel something hanging in the air. It's not natural. It's bending reality. It's also not something that started with you or your arrival. Yet it threatens to become that way, to become part of you. You can feel the temptation gnaw at you. You can hear the winds whisper of it. There is a hunger here-and knowledge as well.

The question, of course, is whether the price to uncover those things is worth it-and what will be found here with the price that is paid. But as the Conductor said-a reckoning cannot be postponed. Not forever.


There are eleven strangers left in this place.]

((IMPORTANT OOC NOTE: This week and it's investigations involve major Fallen London spoilers, in particular spoilers regarding Seeking Mr. Eaten's Name and one of it's endings. If you, as a player here, are playing Fallen London and do not wish to be spoiled, let us know, and we will make sure you are not given any ending spoilers to the best of our ability. We will also be marking spoiler-filled comments with tags, and we request that our players do likewise, in consideration for those who might look through this post in the future.

With that said, have fun, and remember-all shall be well.))

Comments

[charmingheroine]

Wha - Minato!?

[Falling down a Well Of Unusual Size is not how she wanted to see him finally out of his room again, really....]

[strangerpeople]

[He will try. But he will fail. The odds are always stacked against a man with glass bones.

The executioner is already behind him. He need only a gentle shove.

In you go with her, Minato.]

[biddentodance]

[He'd been off balance anyway! Great! Here's hoping the impact of landing doesn't break his hands!]

[charmingheroine]

[Well, she knows better than to grab his hands... and she manages to grab his wrists, just far enough up to not fear she'll have broken him again anyway.]

What are you doing here?! You tried to save me!?

[biddentodance]

Couldn't just watch...

[Falling, he's falling into darkness, and it's a different thing entirely but his mind wants to jump back to that man laughing as he fell backward off the tower, red blossoming on his shirt and jacket, laughing like--

No, focus.]

[charmingheroine]

[She can't laugh anymore. She can't really make out his face, the dim light from above is essentially gone now, but she knows those eyes, now, and she can picture the look in them to match those words. She might be mixing them up with another pair, but he would have done the same exact thing.]

You tried. They wanted this to be an ordeal of betrayal... you still came after me - after us. Thank you.

[She squeezes his wrists, gently, as she would his hands if she weren't scared.]

[1/2]

[strangerpeople]

[They fall. They all fall until they black out. And then, they know no more.

Charlotte Aulin. Minato Arisato. McBurn. Caleb Widogast.

All of them.]

[2/2] MASSIVE FALLEN LONDON SPOILERS

[strangerpeople]

[Blink.

And then they are in...well. It depends on their perception. A church? A sanctuary? They will see the interior of the holiest place they know. Indeed-they will be seated inside it, as if they had been there for hours.

And in front of them, on an alter, is a catafalque, made of a hard bone and cinder. And on top of it, a human person. They are still. Their arms are folded across their chest.

Also, their head is on fire.]

[otherworldlyking]

[ Literally on fire or metaphorically.

Either way how about trying to stand up and see who this person is? ]

[strangerpeople]

[Very much literally.

Whoever it is, its no one McBurn would know. Aside from the fact that they are female, there's no other indication that anyone knows who it is.]

[otherworldlyking]

[ Do they look dead? If so, anything else noticeable about this holy ground he can get from looking around?

Anyone around to try to stop him from rolling the body off or no? He's not trying right now but is there. ]

[strangerpeople]

[They definitely aren't moving. So they are probably very much dead. Or at least unable to voice any objections.]

[charmingheroine]

[Charlotte's immediate reaction is an inarticulate cry of indignant disgust. You do not put a coffin on the altar. You do not put a fancy state-funeral bier on the altar. You most definitely do not put a PARTIALLY FLAMING CORPSE ON THE ALTAR IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH -

But this is an ordeal of betrayal, isn't it. So, as viscerally repulsed and enraged as she is, Charlotte makes no sound after that first utterance. It all makes sense. Betrayal like being pushed, betrayal of social norms... this is still part of the rite. Right? That must be why she seems to be alone... mustn't it?

She approaches the altar, boots quiet against the flagstones of the aisle.]

[15unknowns]

[As she gets there, she will notice someone attending to the catafalque. Gently smoothing out the wrinkles, tenderly holding a blood-red candle in their hands.

They look over at Charlotte, watching her.]

[charmingheroine]

[This is so not how she wanted to be walking down the aisle at St. Mary's. For one, she's not even wearing white... for two, this isn't actually St. Mary's, and she has to remember that.]

Am I meant to be asking you questions, or... that one lying down there?

[She's survived two betrayals, if this counts. There were seven stations, though, weren't there? It's that thought and the wariness it brought with it that keeps her back out of easy reach of the figure.]

[1/2]

[15unknowns]

[The figure steps down, revealing themselves to be-]

[2/2]

[disregartist]

[She's--!?

No. Her eyes are blue. Her hair is jet black. Her clothing is a somber black. She is nothing like the woman on the train, even though this is...so very clearly, at the same time, the Conductor.]

(You can ask me anything you want, Charlotte.

That's why you're here, isn't it?)

[biddentodance]

[He looks around, blinking in the bright sunlight. What even... It's not green like the light from the executions, at least. But after so long in the dark, it hurts, so don't mind him suddenly rubbing at his eyes, trying to see again.]

Ahhh...ow...

[Hi McBurn, hi Caleb, he's here too?

...

Anyway, once he's gotten the spots out of his eyes, he'll go....look at the altar and body? Does the body appear to be wax, or is it clearly made of what a body is usually made of?]

[strangerpeople]

[It is definitely wax.]

[biddentodance]

[While not necessarily reassuring, because Atsushi, it is at least an ease on his mind. And stomach considering people smell awful when they burn.

....is the head actually on fire, or is it a wick where a head ought to be?]

[strangerpeople]

[It is the head. However, Minato can see a wick sticking out of the person's head. So.]

[katzenpfote]

[The sanctuary is small, because of course it is. It's not much more than a small cave with some candles and a carved stone symbol of the Archeart. It is a forbidden deity in the Empire, after all. He'd pushed that memory aside... he's not a religious person, after all, but the one watching over many aspects of magic is still one that must have homage paid to them.]

[He rises from his seated position, gazing at the person.]

... Are you the one who was buried here?

[disregartist]

(No. Not her.)

[Hello again...?...Caleb.]

(She is his memorial. His epitaph. His candle.)

[katzenpfote]

I see. Who was he, who sacrificed you so?

MASSIVE FALLEN LONDON SPOILERS

[disregartist]

(His true name would rip you apart with its paradoxical nature. Otherwise, he is Mr. Eaten. But his original Earth’s name...it was Candles.)

[A wry smile. It lacks the coldness, the emotionless ness, the distance of the Conductor.]

(No one save myself, and not even for the Name. I was discarded a long time ago and became that woman on the train. But I had a name too, once: Millicent Clathermont.)