🏝️ dulces sueños group excursion! 🏝️

[hearthwarming]

🏝️ who: intrepid adventurers (vacationers?) and more!
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.

[ Hopefully everyone had fun on the Arco Lunar! The morning after the boat departs from the docks, a letter arrives to your mailbox: ]

Hello, intrepid adventurer!

I am excited to have you along for a group excursion to the mysterious new island! In two days' time, let us gather in the town square and set off from there! Please be prepared to stay the night. It will be so fulfilling and memorable for everyone to spend a night on an adventure together!

If you have any questions or concerns, please come find me at my flower shop in town or at the forest farm where I live!

Sincerely,
Oriphi

[ If she accidentally delivered it to a few wrong mailboxes, then... Oops!

On the promised day, once everyone (and likely a few surprise tag-alongs) has gathered or been gathered, Ori distributes little paper bags of snacks to everyone. Inside are cookies, oat snacks, and a freshly-picked apple from her and M-21's orchard. Do with them as you please... Just don't let her catch you throwing it into the sea or something. 🥺 ]

Alright. I think we should head out, then! Thanks for coming along, everyone! I hope it'll be a great time. Oh, and please don't forget to drink plenty of water and use this incredible ointment I discovered on this island! It's called "sunscreen!" Tieflings don't really get sunburnt, but you should use it!

[ And with that our intrepid adventurers set off to the mysterious, dangerous, unknowable... resort island! ]

( This is the ill-fated mass extinction memshare event. Please refer to the event for details on the resort and the plotting post for any specific details for characters' memshares! There are toplevels for each area of the resort (and for the memshare). Enjoy! )

Comments

ota mems to share

[bluminescence]

[ I have given myself far too much anxiety over how to navigate this!! Bear with me...
MEMORIES
Let me know if you would like CYOA or not (some work better for it or not, but I'll make it work!!)
Mind the warnings, a lot of them are dark.

See plotting for something more tailored (though i might add more later). ]

[graftage]

[Giiive me either 6 or 4, up to you if you want CYOA!]

[bluminescence]

[ A memory within a memory. The room that greets Steinbeck is dim, save for the pulsing, organic dotting of lights like the bulbs of white flowers along the ceiling. Though he may find even the darker corners, where marble kisses stone, easier to pierce in the moment. The smooth gray floor of stone beneath his bare feet is surprisingly warm, the walls only an arm's length away on either side. The lights above span between archways, one before him and one behind.

Before him, the path curves off with only the discarded light of some unseen and faintly glowing room. Behind him, the soft steps of a young boy. Robed in simple white with bared feet, he glows dimly. His familiar grey eyes, emanating a haze tinted blue, look through Steinbeck towards the path ahead. Kaspar is six and only looks young for his age in the softer features of his face. Expressionless as his steps are calm, he crosses past Steinbeck close enough to reach out. But Steinbeck can't move, he can only watch as Kaspar walks past, his white hair freshly cropped and too short for his rounded cheeks. His only adornment, a gold circlet resting on his crown

He tenses a moment before the authoritative sound of another's deep voice confirms his identity.

"Kaspar."

Kaspar squares his shoulders, turning on his bare heels robotically as if already wearing military issue leathers. A teen dressed in white has appeared at the other archway, larger in height and mass, though not as much as one would expect given their apparent age difference. His uniform is that of a cadet, white long sleeves and buttons to the golden collar tight at his thick neck. White trousers, down to leather boots. Simple, with only the barest golden touches for adornment, it is far different than the simple scrap of a robe Kaspar wears with his chest bared beneath it.

The older boy carries himself like he relishes the superiority, but his face is similarly expressionless. Shoulders squared to his maximum height, his hair is blonder, slicked back, and his hawkish eyes are a light, softly glowing red.

"Aksel." Kaspar answers, quieter, with his eyes on the other's chest.

The newer arrival sizes up the first, the silence between them tense until the older boy breaks it with a command.

"Strike me."

Kaspar hesitates. Aksel does not. He lunges with a fist aimed for Kaspar's unprotected belly. The smaller boy barely blocks it with a stifled grunt. But the force of the hit still causes his own knuckles to graze his tensed stomach, for his cloaked back to touch the wall behind him. Aksel seems neither impressed nor disappointed when he leans over just so, to coolly remind Kaspar of the rules of this place.

"In these halls, you will address me by title." And with that, Aksel leans back again, adjusting his cuffs as his steps carry him down the hall with his parting words, "Do try not to disappoint mother."

Suddenly, Steinbeck can breathe and move freely again. Either path is open to him as Kaspar's eyes settle on stone. After Aksel's steps fade away, tension snaps and Kaspar clenches his fists. He finally lets his shoulders shake slightly with his deep breaths.

> what will Steinbeck do? ]

[graftage]

[He's disoriented at first. It all seems like some far-off dream, something like smoke to drift through and be forgotten. But as things progress, realization comes to a head when he recognizes the young boy in front of him, a chill spiking down his back at the name.]

[Kaspar, so young, so precious - and before he can reach out, another figure comes, and Steinbeck's expression turns to something wary, and then cold, and then-]

[...]

[A part of him feels the vicious heat of anger rise (rise, haha, as if it isn't always there, like an almost-feral dog, barely changed) and he wishes he had his knife to use it properly, for once, as the weapon it is.]

[But he can't. He watches as Aksel bends down, hisses his words, and walks away. And for a moment, this so-called dream lets him. As much as he would like to chase him down and bash his head into the wall, his first inclination makes him stumble over to Kaspar, bending down.]

Hey. Hey....Kaspar....?

[He doesn't know what's happening, but might as well check on the boy.]

[bluminescence]

[ The boy's eyes snap to Steinbeck's and for now, there is no recognition. It is instant, the way he pulls himself back together again with breath evening and stance shifting. The second his eyes land on the man, Steinbeck's skin begins to glow just as dimly as any other Groscian. There is still a flash of surprise that this Kaspar is too young to hide. Even bent, he can tell Steinbeck is taller than father or Aksel.

A colder wariness settles. Fists slightly clenched, one foot solidly behind the other, it is more a challenge if Steinbeck is looking for one than any sign of fear. Kaspar is already big for his age, rounded but already with more muscle and marks than could ever be from childhood games alone. Defiantly, he lifts his chin.

But he has yet to learn how to keep the curiosity from lingering in his big grey eyes. Kaspar's voice sounds punched coming out at normal volume, forced words as if his brother is testing him again. ]

What is it? I will not be made late.

[ Yet he pauses. Because he knows what is waiting for him. The muffled sounds of a crowd have started filtering their way down. Happy sounds, at that. He swallows. But Kaspar feels rooted to the spot by the soft words. ]

[graftage]

[He glances at his own hands, surprised of the glow, but smart enough not to comment on it. Okay. Guess this is happening - he puts his focus back on the young boy, instead, with familiar eyes that look at him so curiously and yet so warily.]

[The way his voice comes in a normal tone, somehow, makes something clutch in his chest. As if he's feeling the aftereffects of a punch delivered squarely where it was not needed.]

...I wanted to... [A pause.] I wanted to make sure...you were okay.

[bluminescence]

[ His chin lifts higher, as if it might assist him in looking taller. It only serves to highlight the contrast between his baby face and the muscle forced on his frame when he puffs up his chest a little too. Far too much like his brother.

But little Kaspar hesitates, unsure why some stranger would even care at all. He still believes his canned response more than the slight quiver of his lip lets on. ]

I am ready for any fight. Any trial.

[ Then quieter, with a stray glance down the path, he whispers his childlike confusion at Steinbeck's existence. His eyes narrow at Steinbeck when they snap back to him. It is hard to look threatening with such a cute face. ]

... what's your rank?

[ Tall means military to him, but he isn't wearing any markings he recognizes. Yet the man hasn't corrected him or acted in the ways he expects, making the boy nervous.

It still feels like a trick. ]

[graftage]

Of course.

[He knew that already - he could feel that already, scars and all, on a body much older. Kaspar has had his fair share of trials. He wants to spare him from unnecessary ones.]

[He watches as the young boy glances up at him with familiar eyes, his heart softening at it in a way that only an older sibling can feel.]

Me? I'm really, uh, quite average, I suppose. [He scratches the side of his neck, bashfully.] Look. Regardless of rank, I wanted to check on you.

[pactmarshal]

[ five and whatever style fits best! ]

[bluminescence]

cw: war setting with no violence, just darkness and leaping from high places

[ Trahearne finds himself in a dark tunnel, the smell and feel of the low oxygen filtering in even before the sight of glowing, armed and white uniformed men fill his field of vision. A hole marks the end of this tunnel, the main portion of which still has low and hazy light glowing, pulsing, and spilling out from its mouth. But it doesn't come close to reaching the men or where Kaspar stands at the edge of the hole. Nearly a foot taller than any other, even his glow does nothing to pierce the pitch black of the depth he is staring down into. His hair is too short, largely hidden beneath his helmet, and his back remains to Trahearne.

The seemingly unending darkness threatens to swallow them whole, even after his eyes adjust to see as well as a Groscian in the dim lighting. The reason that Kaspar is more comfortable doing farmwork at dusk or dawn.

Expressionless, he loads his rifle. Other men with glowing eyes in light shades of blue, red, grey, and yellow all remain squarely on him. Kaspar is the tallest among them all, towering a foot over most of them. Their matching white uniforms are stark against the tunnel walls; collars illuminated by the glow of their skin and cloaks obscuring their forms.

A circle of them take their stations around the same edge as Kaspar, summoned by a single hand gesture from him. Like Kaspar, their collars are gold and their harnesses strapped about their torsos. The lines of sturdy cables attached to them are manned by silver collared men.

Kaspar is sixteen and baby faced despite his strong jaw and broad shoulders, aiming Thyra quietly into the darkness for the first time. A breath, a shot, and Kaspar's eyes slipped closed as the bullet flies unseen. There is no sound, just the collectively held breath before Kaspar's fist raises in the air. A man behind him diligently translates the hand signals that follow into the heavy, black iron winch anchored into the tunnel opening.

Shouldering his rifle and securing it, Kaspar glances back to his engineer. The other man's glowing thumbs up is all Kaspar needs to tug once against his harness before spreading his arms and breaking protocol to free fall from the edge and down into the depths with eyes wide open behind his goggles.

Captai--! A man to his side cries out. But there is no stopping his descent now.

Voices start to sink away first, the world disappearing behind Trahearne as Kaspar's knowledge of the surface dwindles. Complaints in snapped Groscian about his recklessness. Whether to follow or obey the order to stay. Trahearne can either jump or be sucked down along with Kaspar's memory -- a now distance glow as he falls. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ Before Trahearne even sees Kaspar, he knows who this memory belongs to.

The glowing soldiers, the darkness--who would he if he could not piece together his roommate's, his dear friend's world from what information he's been told alone? He is attentive, if anything, and at once many things he's come to learn slot into place.

If Kaspar towers over the rest, then so does Trahearne. He glows like the rest, conspicuously fuchsia, but decides to hang back, putting a respectful distance between himself and the activity. Whatever is going on, it must be important.

Though it is almost immediately clear that Kaspar is in charge. His eyes remain fixed on him, evaluating him for the first time in a professional manner. Trahearne is impressed. He carries himself in a way he has never seen before, and if it weren't for the familiar glow he might not have recognized him.

It's a good thing, however, that he keeps an eye on his roommate, then. Kaspar has always been one for his whims, hasn't he?

As he leaps, and the yells start, Trahearne's gaze whips back and forth between the closing darkness and the hole before him. It takes a split second before he makes his decision: he runs towards the edge and leaps off after him. ]

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar's glow shifts in the distance as Kaspar swings around, spying Trahearne's streak of fuschia following him. Sparks fly from the metal soles of his shoes. He lets one arm fall, hand open under him as he angles himself to catch the other man with the other arm.

It's instinct to save him from hitting the ground best he can, even though the safer option for Kaspar would be to let him fall. But the decision is made on impulse, unsure at a distance which of his men he thinks it is. And even once be realizes it isn't, he is committed to it.

More faint sparks, from feet and cable, he only slows enough without stopping as he reaches out for the man he still doesn't recognize. Two coming together as gently as possible at this velocity as he tries to loop him in with a grunt. Though a normal human might suffer, Kaspar pools his light for the collision. There is still a ways to descend before the cable even begins to noticeably slow their joined speed. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ In his impulse to catch up with Kaspar, to escape the impending dark, Trahearne does not remember that he cannot deal with the sensation of falling anymore.

As he falls, panic and fear take over his being, and he instantly wishes he could take back his decision. But it is too late for that. His eyes roam, eventually settling on Kaspar's familiar glow, his only lifeline.

He angles himself to fall into Kaspar's extended arm. Luckily, being made of mostly leaf and wood, Trahearne is not very heavy, and the excess momentum should not pull too hard on Kaspar's limbs. Easily he is caught, looped in; he grabs onto Kaspar, whatever Kaspar holds onto. Best hold tight if there's still a ways to go. ]

Thank you, I--

[ --should have thought before jumping. ]

[bluminescence]

[ The second their speeds align, Kaspar allows his feet to fall out of contact with the walls even as they push off back near the center. But this is no Groscian, he seems to have realized. Kaspar's hold is not idle, as he aims to put as much strength as necessary into forcing Trahearne's arms behind his back with loops of leather. ]

Quiet.

[ Kaspar's command is clipped, Groscian that they both seem to understand here. He rolls them, forcing Trahearne to face the depths strapped haphazardly to his harness by a few straps, the very same binding his wrists, and one strong arm around him. The other stretches out into the pitch black like a lifeline.

His heart pounds at Trahearne's back despite the apparent calm. For some time, besides that and the stale air fighting against them, there is silence. Below them, nothing. Until a pin prick of light gradually becomes more visible. Kaspar grits his teeth. The cable starts to spark again and Kaspar finally makes a sound.

He whistles, his body noticeably shifting in the air without any other effort on his part. Soles connect, sparking and forcing him to grab at Trahearne's knees if he isn't quick enough to protect his feet. Then his hand falls again, fingers snapping. The distant light begins its ascent.

It crashes into them, a crater of late in Kaspar's palm, just in time to shove them back. The force is enough that Kaspar's feet connect with the rocky surface without shattering. The movement is almost graceful, from landing to shoving Trahearne against the nearest wall with his next fluid motion. His eyes glow hot behind goggles, breathing even. He isn't overly rough, considering the obvious military operation, but it isn't exactly gentle either. ]

Who are you?

[passthrough]

[#6 as discussed! I am fine with either CYOA or otherwise, whatever works easiest for how you want to play your memory!]

[bluminescence]

cw: eventual bloody and claustrophobic tunnel fighting / violence / death

[ With the sudden rush akin to waking after death within a dream, Otegine is greeted first by the low oxygen levels and the smell of wet stone and gunpowder. The hazy low lighting of the tunnel filters in as his eyes adjust to see as well as the Groscians around him. They don't seem to notice him bunched in their ranks. A sea of oblivious men glow below him, most only just making it over five feet tall. Except for the man that stands near the front, the tallest: Kaspar. He is around sixteen and baby faced despite his strong build.

Above Otegine is a single line of soft, organic lighting affixed into stone and casting blurry shadows that dance in the corner of glowing eyes. A line of men hug each wall, two by two, the glow of their skin an answer to the glow above. Their uniforms, weapons, and faces are too clean. None of them can pass for over twenty, and some of them look far too confident to have ever braved war before this moment.

Kaspar glows as softly as the company of men behind him, fist still raised until he shoulders his rifle into place. Aiming it into the dark, it becomes clear there is an ominous break in the overhead lights. A stretch of pitch black, extending far enough that the light in the distance is barely visible.

Somewhere beside Otegine, clipped Groscian he somehow understands slips out from under the breath of an annoyed soldier.

Why've we stopped?

Nearer the front, stand the eager and well armed squads bearing weapons almost as finely crafted as Kaspar's. The tension in the air thickens the farther back in the company, where the most simply armed men are also the most burdened with equipment and munitions for those without bloodletting weapons. The end of the company, hidden just behind the bend. A strategic nightmare in the making.

Beneath Otegine's feet, a subtle, hairline crack. No one has noticed. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Three or Five, or wildcard if you have another you really want to get out, CYOA!]

[bluminescence]

cw: bittersweet love / violence / homophobia

[ The square room Syrlya finds himself in deserted and dark. Small and tinted windows near the ceiling of the only entrance, or exit, allow the hazy glow of light from the hallway to softly filter in. The rest of the details become easier to see as his eyes adjust to pierce the dim lighting as clearly as any Groscian. Whether he could see well or not before.

Metal bedframes and simple mattresses tucked neatly in crisp white sheets line the smooth stone walls. Drab grays, utilitarian, and meant to teach discipline with every spotless inch. There is little in the way of personalization, save for the nameplates written in Groscian with pins of apparent ahievements glinting above their headboards.

Kaspar, almost as broad shouldered as Syr may remember him, slips inside. The light of the hall is a blip in the dark, briefly illuminating the stark whites and grays with the now unfiltered light. Careful, silent steps carry a young Kaspar's glowing form along a familiar path to a familiar bed. His hair is slightly whiter, cut so short that there is barely a curl to be seen save those that shift atop his head as Kaspar brings a small folded note to his lips.

Joy fills the flush on his face, brighting his glow there when it flickers. As he leans to hide the square beneath a pillow, Kaspar runs his fingertips across the bedding. He leans just far enough to inhale the scent of whoever last slept in it. In his hand upon its retraction, a new note. This one, addressed with a small but beautiful flower sketched on its front. Underneath it, in Groscian, is his name, shortened sweetly and written delicately. Kaś.

A chime has him jump, tucking the letter into one leather boot before nearly running on clouds from the room in his haste. The hall light illuminates him again, lessening his glow before the door shuts just as quietly behind him.

And then Syrlya is left to his own devices in the silence of the room. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Ah, well.

Once he orients himself to being so big and warm (is this what Norn feel like inside--?) He runs a hand back through his hair and turns to... walk down one end of the hall as random. He's curious about the note he just stuffed in his boot, but he should find... his own room? First? He hopes he can tell where that is.]

[bluminescence]

[ The hallway stretches out before him, long and empty. His footfalls carrying if not taken carefully. Above him, winding serpentine lights light the path before him, and behind him. There are rows of identical doors, identical rooms like the one he had just exited.

Down and around the corner come the muffled echoes of boys and the clink of utensils. One of the rounded enclaves along the way is a bathroom, as the steel plate reads in Groscian. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Hm... He's going to slip into the bathroom. He'll check if the main door locks, first, or if it's stalls he'll shut himself in one of those. At least he has the sense to realize this letter must be private.]

[bluminescence]

[ The bathroom stall, like the letter itself, is indeed private. Stone and white porcelain, it is just as utilitarian as the rest of the building.

Pulled from the space in his boot clearly meant for a dagger that isn't currently there, he will find the texture is rough, parchment like. Folded neatly, a wild flower of the depths drawn with fine lines and cross shading above his name. Should he unfold it, the note is more haphazardly written than the front. There is an attempt at fancy writing, but time was not on the teenaged author's side.

Forever in my thoughts.
Forever in my dreams,
A life without you would
Tear me at my tender seams,

You are the light that keeps me,
The reason I breathe through the day,
Even when our lips, eyes, and hands are barred from meeting,

I love you so completely
That forever, I will know this feeling.
Seared into my heart

Can he feel it, then, an echo of the way Kaspar's chest swelled and his knees felt weak? Like anyone in love for the first time, swept up in the romance of it all wherever they might find it. There is no thought to the complications of the future.

Complications that begin as the sound of classmates start to pour into the hall outside, a few boys chattering near the door as some enter the bathroom. Kaspar is taller, broader than every single one of them. Though they all wear the same matching uniform as Kaspar. Light hair, white uniforms, and glowing softly in the dimmer lighting of the bathroom.

What will he do with the note now? ]

[irresponsibly]

[ TY TIN!! #7, as discussed! CYOA let's go ]

[bluminescence]

[ Lucia finds herself in much dimmer lighting, the air staler as details fill like the stretch of shadows until her eyes adjust like any Groscian. The first sound she hears is the chiming of a bell from nearby and far away all at once. The bells are pleasant the first time they grace most ears. Before they become the yoke of monotony by sound alone, calling all in its range not only to service with early waking, but to work, rest, and slumber.

And then she is suddenly there, standing along the deserted stone pathway that hugs the stone cavern wall behind her. Before her is the sheer vastness of Vuglodir, the historic and glowing capital under the mountain. Flickering lights mark the size of the massive interior mined out over thousands of years only to be filled in again with structures that spiral or line the walls with feats of marble, stone, steel, and other metals.

Generations of creation, upheaval, advancement and decline are written in the variations of the designs of the buildings. Banners of white silks and golds hang from the complex that circles the uppermost ring of white marble and smooth gray stone. Intricate facades of gold, and the white statues of the saints speak to the age of this place. How out of place then, are the crisp banners of the current Avus, hung from them with the looming figure of a dragon imprinted down its length. Hung at an angle, a reminder to any who dare look up from the deeper belly of the city. Everything is contained under the mountain, within the reach of the Avus.

Like the inside of an egg, the sloped walls are painted in glowing whites and golds, dotted like stars and full of life and movement. Streets and shops are visible in the ring below, humming to life with the early bells and the first train of the day pulling into the station like the trolley and the lifts. Everyone barely grazes five feet tall and glows in the dark, slightly dimmer than the bright but hazy lighting of the paths; like bioluminescent flowers encased in lovely glass.

Rising from the very center of the large cavern is the massive skull of Orm. The truest, purest source of white light in Kaspar's existence. A single, menacing tooth could fit multiple grown man within its cavity. The bones of the skull produce a unending white glow, pulsing with the heartbeat of the whole nation. Kaspar follows his path as it hugs the high walls of the cavern in which the massive city sits. Old murals and reliefs, long forgotten by the current regime, scale the old stone in a broader palette of dulled colors than the whites, golds and silvers of the upper levels.

Down the pathway, Kaspar looks largely as she would remember him as he slows to enjoy the view. He doesn't see her when he turns away, only to pause again by an opening in the stone. He hasn't spied her yet.

What would Lucia like to do? ]

[irresponsibly]

[ What an intricate place she's found herself in. Lucia takes in the decor, the stars, the sounds of the bells... She's not sure where she is, but it'a a miraculous place, one that she will etch into her memory forever with how magnificent it is. Idly, she wonders what this is...

And then she sees Kaspar down the pathway. The wiser thing to do would be to observe. Instead, she calls out towards him with a wave: ]

Oh! Kaspar! Hello!