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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[diel]

[ he shrugs at the explanation. thanks for letting him know? ]

Cornelius…

[ that’s more syllables than he’s used to for a name. the vowels and consonants blur together like a breath. he tests out the name one more time around his bread. ]

Cornie?

[spotsalone]

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

Ah—

[ hickey.exe has crashed ]

Hickey will do.

[diel]

Hickey…

[ he nods. ]

Where did you come from? Your clothes are kinda weird.

[spotsalone]

[ He looks down at himself with a slight frown. Sure, his clothes are grimy and it's not exactly his top choice of fashion, but weird?

Then, his gaze drifts to the coat he's slung over the chair next to him. ]

I'm a lieutenant on HMS Terror. We've been stranded for years, frozen in on the arctic sea. Our captain made us walk out.

[diel]

[ don’t mind him choking on his bread a little. hickey’s story just sounds absolutely crazy. but mostly horrifying!

after he’s done inhaling crumbs: ]

I - really? And you’re - alive! Somehow!

[ but - oh… now he’s sad about what hickey had said earlier about the food thing. freezing cold and hungry. mm… and he wasn’t alone either… but still abandoned.

… betrayed…

(… … …)

yoru’s stomach turns. he picks at his bread, no longer hungry. ]

At… at the very least you deserve a warm bath.

[spotsalone]

[ He offers a tight-lipped smile. ]

Somehow, yes. Most of the rest of us weren't so lucky.

[ Ah, Billy... but what a purpose he served.

And deserve. A funny choice of word. ]

I plan to clean myself up as soon as I'm done here. Needed a full stomach first.

[diel]

O-oh, right. Of course. Do you need any help with anything?

[ belated he adds: ]

I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s too cruel.

[ he wonders why cruelty seems so easy to reach for, when kindness costs nothing. ]

[spotsalone]

[ He snorts a humorless laugh through his nose. ]

Cruel is indeed the term for it, but I'm living in the lap of luxury now, aren't I? I won't want for anything now.

[ An optimistic outlook, but he stands by it for the time being. He ignores the offer for help. ]

What about you? Where are you from?

[diel]

[ he opens his mouth, then shuts it. that's enough poking. he shouldn’t - really shouldn’t project his own feelings onto this. even if he thinks the trauma will catch up to hickey.

it always does.

he wants to help before it does. no, don’t poke, don’t prod. they’re not family. ]

Gokurakugai. It’s in Japan.

[ though if hickey cares to notice, yoru wears a fine changshan, patterned with silver dragons. his choker also has a chinese motif. ]

[spotsalone]

[ bold of you to assume hickey knows what japan and china even are......... ]

Goku... rag...

[ He frowns. ]

Japan, I've heard of. It's an island, isn't it?

[ He's fully picturing, like, Hawaii. ]

[diel]

[ yoru: able to say gokurakugai with ease

also yoru: cornie bc cornelius is too hard ]

Yeah, an island nation. It’s nice. We have…

[ well, now that he says it, he’s struggling to think of something actually nice about it. ]

Uh… omelette rice.

[spotsalone]

[ He stares for a moment, waiting to see if Yoru will continue. ]

Omelette rice. I see. Quite a selling point.

[ It's not! ]

Though it's not as if I've anything nice to say about London, either.

[ He chuckles. ]

[diel]

[ social awkward boy struggles with conversation, news at 11 ]

Oh, I heard it rains a lot there. That’s nice… And you have curry.

[spotsalone]

You've a curious definition of "nice". And of London. I wouldn't say it's a city known for its curry, of all things.

[ The rain is accurate, though. ]

Are you eager to get home, then? To your island?

[diel]

[ ? ]

You don't like the rain...?

[ weird! the rain is so soothing and bleak. as for his other question, yoru's reply is immediate. ]

Of course. And I will - because I have people waiting for me. Um. What about you?

[spotsalone]

The sorts of people who like rain tend to be the sorts of people who aren't stuck out in it.

[ His reply isn't a quick as Yoru's, though. He smiles, but his eyes drop briefly. ]

And the sorts of people eager to get home likely have a home worth returning to. Not me, I'm afraid. Truthfully, I'd been on my way to start fresh when I was caught up in all this.

[diel]

[ he likes the rain because he always feels clean after. there are less people out. you could cry in the rain without the need to hide anything.

but he will reflect on hickey’s point because he isn’t wrong, maybe. he hasn’t been stuck in the rain since he was a child. would he like it as much if home hadn’t felt like it’s own flood? ]

… Then… this is like part of your fresh start, isn’t it? You’re alive, you have food, and hopefully you enjoy your bath.

[ not as good as having a new family and he still feels a little bad for hickey, but maybe he will find one soon. ]