Mesdames et Messieurs, Voilà, C'est Vous

[lesmodsalouette]

Bievenue

You're wrapped in a soothing, all-encompassing darkness.

Well, perhaps not perfectly all-encompassing -- you can see some slivers of light here and there, just enough to realize that your current space is literally wrapped in something, and that you are a highly customized burrito at the mercy of an entirely too fluffy bed and set of blankets. Moreover: you are definitely not alone.

Depending upon the contents of your bed (two of you, waking up dressed exactly in what you wore last you remember back where each of you came from, in the exact same state as those last moments no matter how illogical or disjointed), it may not be comfortable or feasible to stay cocooned up for much longer. There's a low, muted GONG, GONGG coming from not far away, your bed creaks like a beleaguered ship in an unannounced storm, and it is joined by even more noises of movement beyond the bed canopy as you try to take stock of where you are.

Eventually, you either fall out of bed or drag yourself into this world: your new and strangely crowded personal rooms, the clock insistently sounding out the hour, and the halls and heraldry of the venerable Château Ambregris -- a lavishly decorated and fully furnished version of a more-or-less authentic French castle (assuming you know what France or a castle are).

Left to your own devices for the moment, you may find it helpful to explore the castle for your own purposes, check out the suspicious statues and personalized plaques in the Promenade of Reflexion, or perhaps to try to get to the bottom of the mysterious and frankly alarming amount of bread piled up in front of the place settings in the Banquet Hall. (Were you thinking of escaping? Any attempts to leave the property will be met with no forward progress at all, treadmill style). There's just about every kind of loaf, roll, boule, baguette, croissant or even animal-shaped bread you can think of stacked in baskets. There's absolutely nothing else save for plain bread, but at least you won't starve.

[OOC: Welcome to Château Ambregris, a perfectly normal castle receiving perfectly normal guests. Feel free to ask any questions in discord! The NPC Meet & Greet will be later today, March 8 at 6 PM EST/3 PM PST.]

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[spotsalone]

[ All the work it took. His eyebrows knit together for a moment, and the corner of his mouth ticks up into a curious smirk. ]

I'm more wondering how much it must've cost. Have you ever seen a place this lavish? Yourself, I mean?

[ He's only ever seen drawings. ]

[spotsalone]

[ Hickey frowns, puzzled, and looks down at himself. ]

You can. I don't have much use for modesty.

[ He studies Cain a moment. Something's off with this guy. ]

Are you all right, then?

[spotsalone]

[ ........................................... ]

Ah—

[ hickey.exe has crashed ]

Hickey will do.

[spotsalone]

It's nice to meet you too, Junior. My name is Cornelius Hickey.

[ He takes stock of Junior's vantage point from this little corner. He's got a good view of the hall, of each entryway. Has he put himself here on purpose? Or just to stay out of the way? ]

I saw you exploring around earlier. Find anything exciting?

[uiscebeatha]

Ayaka. Gotcha. I'll remember that.

[ He feels the way the air shifts when Richard waves his hand, and Cain cocks his head with a grin. He doesn't know what Richard's doing, but he'll try and play it off.

He sticks out a hand. ]

Saber's such a cool name! I'm Cain.

[spotsalone]

I'd certainly say they are.

[ ... ]

It's unwise to make enemies with people you'll need to rely on, you know.

[ He saw her outburst from earlier. ]

[uiscebeatha]

[ Cain turns around, and his eyes naturally settle...somewhere near Hickey's, but not quite. ]

Sorry, my eyesight's kinda bad.

[ He takes a couple of steps forward, hand outstretched. Not too close to corner him, but also not too close to the bath edge that the request could be seen as a threat. ]

Could you touch my hand?

[arbalestrier]

Is it?

[He’s never been in a castle like this, so he has no idea what one would consider normal.]

But I don’t understand. Why haven’t these weapons been replaced with modern equipment? Even a .38 Special would be preferable to arming yourself with a sword.

[g’raha: having so many weapons here is hm
sousuke: why don’t they have better weapons, the idiots]

[uiscebeatha]

Wait, really?!

[ He says this with his mouth full. At least he hasn't swallowed?

Somewhere in his mind he pictures any of his mentors smacking that food out of his hand and he feels a fool. What the hell was he thinking?

He'll set the rest of the roll down and then turn to the nearest place setting, grab the empty wine glass, and spit out what he had in his mouth. ]

[uiscebeatha]

[ There's a weird, tense look on Cain's face—he's somewhere between gawking that a House of Serpents is real (why?!), but also delighted by how cool that is and how much cooler this guy is because of it.

He doesn't know what it means, but. ]

Forgive my disrespect, my lord. I just...really don't like snakes. [ There's a joke in his tone but the way he salutes is precise, like he's done it a lot. His grin widens. ] Does that make you nobility, or something?

[uiscebeatha]

Exactly! The more heads and pairs of hands we've got on a problem, the better. You get me.

[ Despite his demeanor, Cain's still on high guard on the inside. ]

But you're good. I was pretty jumpy when I first woke up, too. [ Eyeing the statues... There are so many of them. ] Kind of hard to believe, even.

[uiscebeatha]

Dimension? [ He didn't think about it like that, but it makes sense. And if Bradley says so, then it's probably true. ]

Yeah, he's right. Mine isn't working either. It...feels weird and quiet.

[ His wandering, thoughtful gaze snaps back to Tia. ]

Do you have a dragon form, or something? Have you tried shapeshifting?

[uiscebeatha]

[ He watches the pondwater shlorp onto the ground. That's a lot of water...

Water? Cain blinks, the threads of his memory just barely connecting, but they don't quite reach. He definitely feels like he should know this guy, and the feeling vexes him. Without the luxury of being able to sense auras, to the degree he usually can, he feels lost.

Regardless, he puts on a big, friendly smile. ]

Sorry if this sounds kinda weird, considering we've all woken up here out of the blue. But... [ He tilts his head, bangs falling away, red and gold gleaming as they rest on the empty space in front of him. ] Do I know you?

[coldseep]

( Now, that is rude! If he were a proper Northern dragon, he'd probably be leaping to rip Cain's throat out at the disrespect.

But he is not. He's not much of a Northern dragon (but still, he is); and he's not much of a Western one, either (and still, he is); he's just something that fell through the cracks, like Balthazar, like this wizard's recollection of him.

He does not answer Cain immediately. He simply smiles (totally wasted on Cain!!), and Cain can hear him step forward - a long stride, and faint laugh coming right up against Cain's personal space: )

Akira's friend. Did all my whirlpools make you forget? I guess I did hit you pretty hard.

( Not as hard as he should've, though. His sentimentality that Balthazar paid for - or, perhaps, Balthazar would've died, regardless.

In any case - he stopped suddenly short of Cain, the purpose of his rapid approach revealed: a harmless spray of pondwater coming at Cain quickly off Hwylryn's still-wet hair, as much a scolding as it is a tease. Take that! )

[frostlight]

[She'll say. She can't remember the last time one of her kind carried such sentimental beliefs. He's odd and soft, yet a fierce dragon who'd speak with violence all the same, so he's more familiar than he is alien despite complicating matters with ruminations.

Tia has always been more straightforward. Mingling with humans has muddled that somewhat, though.]

What do you want, then?

[frostlight]

["Weird and quiet" is frustratingly accurate. She makes a face that's not directed at him.]

I have. I don't know how, but my powers are sealed.

[antline]

Interrogation...

[Oh, now she's yanking his weird hair. It's hair, but...definitely inhuman? More featherlike, lighter. He doesn't wince, but his face does cross over into a definite frown.]

I don't....understand what you mean. My name is Sariel. Can you stop...touching me?

[simulacres]

I genuinely don’t know which movie that is.

[simulacres]

[ ayaka stops, and follows saber’s glance. ]

Probably. I didn’t bother to check.

[ this is not an invitation to check. ]

[baebladie]

[ Blade catches the intentionally-tossed-jam. He can catch just fine, at the very least. He opens it out of curiosity, though... ]

...You - do you always do this?

[baebladie]

[ Good to know he's paying attention! And here he thought he let his guard down - though, his fingers instead do curl around that hand. ]

Do you believe everything I do follows a script?

[ Elio's, at that. Which, to be honest, yes he does that for a lot of his core motivated actions. But he questions it anyway. ]

[baebladie]

[ Blade wanders around in the general area, even moving to turn his back to the other man to examine the ornamental weapons, whether they be blades or not, to inspect their craftsmanship.

There's an easy answer to the question, but Blade figures there's a higher chance of provocation if he responses in a particular manner. ]

Why should I be concerned?

You won't go through with it. Or do you want to prove me wrong?

[baebladie]

...Blade.

[ Now at least someone here besides Dan Heng knows his name and it isn't because of the profiles, lmao. Though, now it's settling in deeper why the other man scurried on over there, even if he's still waking up... ]

An unfortunate way to meet. If this is...real.

[ It could be a hallucination. Or it could be a dream. ]

everywhere (workshop);

[baebladie]

[ Cain bumps into Blade - or he is about to when the black-haired swordsman reaches out to harshly grab a hold of that shoulder, pushing him back. ]

Pay attention.

[ Someone hasn't realized he's impaired...not yet... ]

[uiscebeatha]

[ It all comes together so quickly—

Akira, whirlpools, the water, the voice—it all hits him at once and it comes back like a wave from the depths, the coral and seaweed from Adams Island swelling and dragging him back to that moment of tension, of desperation.

It hasn't even been that long. A few weeks, at best? It's been a busy few weeks, training and missions and drills and diplomatic tasks leaving the finer details (really, could an entire dragon be brushed aside as a finer detail?) darker as they sink to the depths, his memory now sun-baked, dusted with coconut, warm with the knowledge that he'd "done well..."

It's reflexive: Hwylryn playfully splashes Cain but memories of Borda Island have him on full alert. The water hits his face and he lunges forward, shoulder colliding with Hwylryn's torso to shove him out of Cain's personal circle. The dragon pops into existence. He still doesn't recognize him.

That's who Owen was fighting, huh? ]

What— How did you get here?!