TDM: NOVEMBER 2023

[citycenter]

TEST DRIVE MEME

JUMP TO MONTHLY PROMPT ↓ A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION. You wake up on a train. Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words— WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION? ▶ YES ▶ NO Please take a moment to complete your orientation. Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty—there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale. As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 9. If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need. Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD. The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming. TO THE NORTH The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway—it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed—the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information. Immediately to the southwest of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information center. It looks welcoming, with an inviting glass facade and a sign above the entryway announcing it as the "TOURIST CENTER." It's a humble building with a receptionist's desk on the back wall opposite the entrance, empty magazine shelves lining the side walls, and a few spinning brochure racks full of blank pamphlets. Anyone is welcome to peruse the tourist literature, though they won't offer much information, being primarily filled with pictures of the surrounding area—City Hall, the park, a statue garden, and the surprisingly heavily-featured cemetery. There are a few sentences sprinkled throughout about basic offerings of the city, such as apartment complexes and office buildings, as well as a few maps with the same limited scope as the larger version on the wall behind the receptionist's desk. TO THE SOUTHWEST The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat. As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully—very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long. Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of—no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky. TO THE EAST The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store—it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that. A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business. You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex—finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like. The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that—the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils. As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces—a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen. Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS IT IS THE ULTIMATE SHADOW, THE DEFEAT OF CREATION. In one section of the newly accessible portion of the city, nestled in among normal looking residential and commercial buildings, is a wide and relatively short and industrial-looking building with no windows and only one grand set of black glass doors set into one side. Above the entrance is a neon sign that plainly states ART. with smaller letters sm added to the front in metallic paint. Hopefully, this simple signage will give passersby the impression that this is an art exhibit of some kind, with a twist. DO NOT TOUCH THE ART… Once stepping through the front doors, guests will be greeted with a lobby with walls covered in vertical neon lighting that pulses in a rotating rainbow, and mirrored ceilings that make the space feel surprisingly small. To one side is a bar where various cocktails await pickup. They don't have any special effects, but being a bit tipsy might help enhance the experiences waiting for you beyond. There's also a rack of bottles behind it, stocked with the typical liquors and mixers, if you'd like to play bartender for a while. Thanks to the disorienting amount of colored lighting and dark corners, it may be easy to get lost and turned around in the large building, and guests may be surprised to find that they're unable to locate the exit (or entrance) while alone. After leaving behind the lobby and stepping into the exhibit proper, you'll find yourself walking through a central winding hallway with large rooms branching off from it in both directions at regular intervals. Some of them are more interactive than others, but all of them are dimly lit except for the "art" that guests will find themselves in the middle of, encouraged to touch and participate in creative collaboration. A few of the simpler rooms include: Hanging ropes that will light up where touched, changing color with the amount of kinetic force applied: purple for a brush of the fingers, red for a crushing grip. These pulses of light will travel out to either end of the ropes the longer touch is applied, and considering that the room is pitch black and seemingly endless thanks to the mirrored walls, you may want to find some help in lighting up the dark. A sunken floor filled to the brim with translucent plastic balls. This ball pit is a literal bath of color with every-changing light shining up from the floor of the ball pit and diffusing through the balls. A wall of cubbies at the room's entrance awaits belongings and shoes that are asked to be removed by a polite sign at the top of the stairs that descend into the ball pit. Be careful, for the pit is deep and it's easy to sink beneath the surface if you sit or lie down; you may see some shadows of people a ways away from you, but if you wade through the balls to their rescue, you won't find anyone tangible there. A small theater of benches all facing the back wall that is a single large screen. The display is a moving series of lines on a black background that give the audience the sensation that the room is moving, or they themselves are traveling through the space. Atmospheric music—mostly heavy bass and noise that's been timed with the movement on the screen—hums through the room and adds to the sense of immersion. ... IT MIGHT TOUCH BACK. One of the more interesting rooms is actually divided into three smaller rooms, each with a heavy, sound-dampening door that only has a small square window set into the top of it. Through the window, you can see that there is a red room, a green room, and a blue room. Stepping into any of them will be a different experience where guests will be entirely immersed in the color—even the window is a one-way mirror from the inside, blocking out any sights from beyond. The longer guests stay in these isolating rooms, the more disoriented they'll become, and it's entirely possible that moods will shift from the experience. Be careful stepping back out into the exhibit itself, your eyes and ears may need time to adjust. In the green room, guests may feel like they've stepped into a concentrated and unfiltered essence of nature. The speakers play a variety of animal noises layered with leaves rustling and branches creaking as they move as well as wind, rain, and other kinds of weather. Looking at yourself, or your companions if someone stepped inside with you, you see their eyes and teeth pop clearly in the bath of green, somehow more obviously animal than ever. In the red room, the temperature is higher than the rest of the exhibit, not uncomfortably so but noticeable all the same. Looking down at your skin, you can see more of the blemishes, the dark spots or pale scar tissue that contrasts much more starkly. From hidden speakers in the ceiling comes a mixture of sounds that are hard to place as they're so layered over one another, but the overall noise is inorganic, discordant, unsettling. It's hard to focus, let alone look at anyone else you might be sharing the room with. In the blue room, there is almost an absence of experience. The only sound is a low, steady hum that vibrates through you as you stand and close your eyes almost on instinct. Everything gets erased in the layer of blue that covers everyone and everything in the room, skin looking almost gray from the lack of any other colors that are so often associated with life. The last room of note is completely black and empty except for three massive umbrellas of flowers and other plants that are suspended from the tall ceiling, illuminated by lights shining on them from above. Each umbrella is about as high off the ground as the average human and varying by a few feet or so, so that it's possible to stand or crouch beneath them. Once standing in their shadows below, guests will be able to hear whispers coming from above… These whispers tell real secrets of city residents—past, present, and future—though names are never included. The secrets are told in their own voices, though, almost like confessionals to a confidant or their pillow in the dark of night. These secrets can be positive, negative, or simple fact. Some may be shocking revelations of guilt, or shy mutterings of love, or secrets spilled as if the speaker has never thought of this part of themselves before. There is a hush throughout the room, and if guests were to whisper to each other beneath the umbrellas, conversations would not be easily overheard. Residents are encouraged to meet up in the bar with friends, grab some drinks, and then head into the art exhibit. It's also a great place to meet someone new as there will be plenty of interactions happening as everyone hopefully discovers a bit of their inner child. There's no right or wrong order to exploring the rooms, but residents will not be able to find the exit without the presence of another with them—even if you came alone, you're leaving with a friend! For the Secret Garden whispers, players are encouraged to make up something scandalous to discuss with others or even have their own character's voices whisper to them from the flowers. Please remember to discuss with other players before including any information about existing and potential characters that may affect their gameplay. Inspiration for this location includes 9 Lights in 9 Rooms as well as Hopscotch. Title is from Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS WILDCARD. The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There are even some places that other residents have created! There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back. If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations. We highly recommend checking out the Character-Run Locations as well - they might be great places for new characters to get started! JUMP TO TOP ↑

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Wanderer | Genshin Impact

[featheradrift]

I. The Train Station

[ He wakes to the cloying smell of metal and oil, of grime and pollution, to stifling air accompanied by an even thicker silence. He is seated, back against the chair and head tilted down in rest. He's comfortable, somehow, content to stay in place, mind peacefully blank for once—but an annoying buzz filters through his ears, ringing until he can no longer bear to ignore its source.

Eyes open to harsh fluorescent lights, and with a jolt, the Wanderer stands, realizing that he's in an unfamiliar environment. A closed room, seats lining its sides, several doors on each side, and windows to an unfamiliar outside—but what really gets him is the design of the room. In his long years, there's hardly a place in Teyvat that he has not set foot upon. And though he cares little for the architecture of each region, it would be difficult not to see patterns, after centuries of travel.

This room? Not even the Abyss comes close to resembling anything within.

Perhaps what most sets him on edge is the tickling feeling that he ought to be here—like he belonged, somehow, to this room of weird shapes, odd designs, deafening silence that is wholly not Teyvat. Not his world (and that he feels it should be his, still, despite everything is a thought he shoves back into the deep recesses of his mind, never to be touched upon again). He doesn't like this—not one bit.

The buzzing finally draws his attention to a rectangular device laying on the seat next to the one he'd occupied previously. The device shines, and he reads the words upon its surface as he leans over it. He scoffs, and proceeds to ignore the device as he takes time to examine the rest of the room, before he eventually meanders back to the device and attempts to answer to the negative.

But nothing happens, of course, and he's left with the unfortunate reality that he must play to the whims of whoever sent him here if he wants to proceed anywhere. So he completes the orientation, albeit with a few attempts to give nonsensical answers, and the doors open, letting him out to the platform.

Here, he finds the place just as alien and unfamiliar, and he thoroughly investigates the area, trying to understand exactly where it is he finds himself today. Unfortunately, the results aren't illuminating, and with an annoyed sigh, he begins the trek up the stairs into the station proper. There are people here, in the station, but it doesn't take a genius to observe that a majority of them seem to be confused about their sudden arrival to this place, the "City" as the device had called it, and the Wanderer opts not to initiate conversation.

So, to any other newcomers, or to non-newcomers visiting the station, a man with a wide brimmed hat may be found examining the station in its entirety, keeping to himself instead of asking people questions. ]

II. City Park

[ He should have noticed much earlier that his Vision had gone inert. The unsettling, alien city, the unfamiliar sights and smells, everything—it should not have distracted him so much that he did not realize this immediately. But it hadn't been until he attempted to command the power of Anemo to fly that he realized he could no longer feel the swirling energy around him, comforting like a soft, airy blanket that he could push and pull at whim.

It's the Gnosis all over again—the panic, the desperation, the impending loss that he must suffer (again and again, why must he suffer loss)—and before he knows it, his feet have taken him out of the station and into the sprawling city of tall, imposing blocks and windows. It's nothing like Sumeru—nothing like anywhere in Teyvat—but the thought doesn't register as he keeps moving, walk changing into run, until he finds himself surrounded by greenery.

Here, in the calming space, his pace slows to a stop. Familiar it was not (because none of this looked like Sumeru's flora, but it was still flora and that had to count for something, right?), but the emotions swirling in his heart lessen slightly, releasing his chest from its iron grip, and he takes a gulp of air like a drowning man. He stands still, hand placed upon the dull, colorless Vision laid atop his breast, as he continues to will himself back to calmness.

Anyone who wanders into the park will find him in this exact position, eyes closed, completely unmoving. ]

III. ART

[ It's not until a few days after his arrival that the Wanderer approaches the bizarre art installation with curiosity. So far, the city had turned out to be relatively harmless, as there were no monsters, Abyss creatures or anything, really, that threatened its inhabitants. It was just somewhat unsettling, and he was not going to give the bastard that threw him in here the satisfaction of seeing him cowed and afraid.

In the dreary sea of grey and grey and grey, the neon signage had stood out, like a siren beckoning him to enter, and who was he to deny the call? So enter he did, much to his regret, as he loses the entrance and exit both, and now he's stuck wandering this strange building filled with— with— it's not art (and it's not like he ever subscribed to the Akademiya's view on art but this? This is definitely not art. It's an assault to his eyes is what it is.)

You might find him at the ball pit, glaring sullenly at said balls, like his eyes might set them on fire. Or you can find him in the red room, where it seems as if lines have been drawn upon his skin, particularly around his knees and elbows, outlining the joints of a doll. Here, his eyes are closed and brows wrinkled, the discordant noise almost too unpleasant to bear.

Alternatively you're free to encounter him in any other room in the exhibit and set up a different scenario! ]

▶ IV. Wildcard

[ If nothing sounds appealing, you can set up a completely different scenario! ]

ii.

[excaliburden]

[For Altria, too, the flora is... reassuring in its own way. It reminds her of Faerie Britain, and while that's its own can of worms, there's something about the familiar that will always be reassuring, regardless of her own feelings on it.

... Point is, she stumbles upon Wanderer not too long after he stops there--and pauses. Should she...? No, he's absolutely having a moment to himself, right? It'd be super rude to interrupt, probably.

Even though she's really, really curious.

She should probably just... quietly... try to move around--



Instead, she trips over a root she doesn't see because her eyes are fixed on him instead, and while she doesn't faceplant, she does stumble with a quiet little yelp. Nice going, Altria.]

[featheradrift]

[ He whips around like a startled cat, hand moving to conjure Anemo—a reflex—but the wind doesn't come and he's left feeling empty again, motion aborting abruptly as a tragic expression crosses his face. But it's there for only a moment before he forces it all down (now's not the time to break down), forces himself to adopt a more neutral pose (he can't show weakness), and slowly unclenches his fist.

He takes a good look at the intruder, spying her posture, her expression, the root, realizing all at once that he'd parked himself in the middle of the path, in plain sight. Foolish.

With a sharp exhale from his nose, he tilts his head down, letting the wide-brimmed hat cover his face. ]

...you okay?

[ Is not what he means to say, but it's what comes out of his mouth regardless, and part of him doesn't feel upset about it at all. ]

[excaliburden]

[She straightens immediately when he speaks, face a little red--but he's not really looking at her, which helps the embarrassment a little.

Besides... that's a nice thing for him to ask, isn't it?]

Oh--! Yes. I'm fine. Great even! I bounce back really well, even if I fall. Which... I didn't!

[So it's all good. Right? Right.

... Ahem.]

What about you? Are you... doing okay?

[featheradrift]

That's none of your business.

[ That too, is a reflex, and if it weren't for the unfamiliar environment, the fact that he'd been whisked away to some unknown, alien city (and what was Nahida doing, not even reaching out to him?), if his Anemo Vision was still working, maybe he'd feel contrite about his attitude.

Suffice to say, he's not in the best of moods, so it's a small miracle that one line comes out with only a minimal amount of heat. The next line also comes out with just the touch of a bite, the mocking tone a shield for the softness within. ]

And what brings you to this sad excuse of a garden?

II

[justscribing]

Oh, it's you. [Hat Guy. Lesser Lord Kusanali's... attaché? Assistant? He never actually bothered to ask about him when he suddenly showed up towards the end of Alhaitham's stint as the Acting Grand Sage. Nahida's business is her own business.

Still, he's the first familiar face to show up after they did. And Alhaitham's curious what that means.] You must have just arrived.

[featheradrift]

[ The voice snaps him out of his trance, but it's a familiar voice, and he'll take familiar right now. Anything over this strange, stifling, lifeless city.

He turns toward the Scribe, crossing his arms over his chest. Instantly, his eyes are drawn to the Vision clipped onto the man's clothes. Dull. Lifeless, just like his Anemo Vision. So it wasn't just him. If anything, that just makes him more displeased, and it shows in his expression. ]

And what's it to you?

[ It comes out a bit more stand-offish than he intended, but who could blame him for feeling skittish at the moment? ]

[justscribing]

[The offense rolls off Alhaitham like water. Instead he scrutinizes the reaction for an answer to a question he hasn't yet voiced.]

You're not here because Lesser Lord Kusanali sent you. [Another kidnapping, then, and a confirmation there's yet still nothing she can do for them. He wasn't holding out hope by this point, at least.]

I haven't seen Sumeru in a few months now. I've been wondering how the Akademiya is handling itself.

[featheradrift]

[ He clicks his tongue in irritation as Alhaitham quickly draws a conclusion from his attitude. The man was far too perceptive, but admittedly, it made things easier, because he didn't have to voice obvious conclusions.

The Scribe's words draw his interest though, and his brows furrow. Months? He hadn't heard of the Scribe vanishing recently—Nahida hadn't said a word, and he thinks she would have said something if Alhaitham had truly disappeared. Then again, he's not sure the man is ever around—he hears people searching for the Scribe often enough that he sometimes wonders how the man still has his job. ]

Positively imploding from a lack of the Scribe's presence.

[ Dripping with sarcasm, here. ]

iii. ✨

[fussiest]

[ under the red pall of the red room, kaveh thinks - it's too much, isn't it. it's the intensity. kaveh doesn't necessarily dislike it, is the thing. but you are meant to be laid bare beneath it, and this city has never made it a secret that being laid bare was for the sole purpose of recreation, of taking the sacred and dragging it kicking and screaming beneath clinical light. there was no soul to it. kaveh knows this. but in the red room underneath the brutalism of the crimson light, kaveh thinks - scars are like the lingering scent of blood.

he hadn't meant to notice, is the thing. but kaveh's intentions very rarely coincide with reality, and in any case, it's his job to notice things. cracked foundations, leaky rooves, a single mosaic tile out of place, ball-joints. kaveh looks. his own scarred hands wring, picking along his half-chewed nailbeds as the thought lingers, and is dismissed, and then lingers again in the way of an unending spiral.

it's been two days since he's slept. the red of the room bleeds. kaveh continues to look. ]

Um. [ kaveh starts, after a long enough moment's passed that even the most desperate of plausible deniabilities couldn't be cited - ] Are you quite alright? You seem to be in pain.

[featheradrift]

[ The red exposes him for what he is, peels back the layers hiding his existence, written in long faded lines made fresh again, under the light. The screech echoes the yawning void in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole—but it's the presence of another that brings him back to the room, plants his feet on the ground and reminds him that he—ought to leave, this room is truly unpleasant.

This man, he remembers. Remembers his wavering form, how he struggled to stay upright after the exertion of the race, and yet to the Wanderer, he had seemed stalwart and firm when rejecting the Sachin, resolute in his purpose in the world.

He looks, at scarred hands that carve dreams out of reality and wrest existence from inexistence. He doesn't look at eyes that blend far too well into the red of this room, that pierces through his layers, sees him for the puppet that he is. ]

It's nothing.

[fussiest]

[ well, kaveh thinks. it's not a particularly odd answer in turn, though it does say quite a bit about what sort of person this is, to deny something that the very room has laid bare. it's pride, kaveh thinks, as he considers the young man up and down, concern furrowing a thin line down the centre of his brow. in the aftermath, the story had come clear: alhaitham had not been the only one who was looking into sachin. and kaveh, well, it was beyond kaveh to meddle in the affairs of state and religion, but given that they have neither of these things here, perhaps there was a responsibility after all.

that, and this young man knows nahida. ]

It evidently is. The city doesn't bring in people who have nothing. [ kaveh says, with a thin wisp of a sigh. it seethes between his teeth. ] Come. [ he gestures with a hand. ] We ought to leave this room before this city decides that nothing isn't good enough of an answer. I know that it hasn't accepted it any other time. You don't want to be in here, right? Well, neither do I.

[featheradrift]

[ It's strange, how easily this man reaches out to another, as if the string he draws between him and another won't one day snap and swing back, won't cut into him and mangle his soul. And he knows Kaveh is not like him—not jaded and bitter, not having let his idealism crumble to reveal ugly cynicism underneath.

But still, he can't help but ask: ]

Why do you care? I'm just a nobody, an unknown scholar from Vahumana. You have no reason to look out for me.

iii.

[halbird]

[ mm.

well, sinclair wonders for a little bit too long whether or not he should approach the stranger cursing the balls in the ball pit with his eyes. on one hand, he looks as if something's bothering him, and maybe he could help? on the other hand, he looks as if something's bothering him, and how could he help? maybe, maybe, wanderer would rather be left alone.

in the end, sinclair's beginning to become more comfortable with the fact that he'd rather help and mess up than not help at all, to this stranger's misfortune. it's this realization that drags the question up from his throat, a polite ]

... Are you okay?

[ said as he approaches just the slightest. that same politeness keeps a little distance between them, still, but he's here. ]

[featheradrift]

[ And for his troubles, Sinclair gets those murderous death ray eyes turned on him, like the man had just interrupted a mortal duel between the drifter and the ball pit.

It's not really the ball pit's fault that he's feeling so miserable right now. It's just that the floor being an obstacle reminds him that he can no longer fly—that his Anemo Vision has gone inert, and there's just too much attached to that for him to brush it off easily. ]

Do I look okay to you?

[ If it comes out too spicy, well, only Sinclair could be blamed for interfering. ]

[halbird]

[ eep.

that is spicy. does sinclair expect this? yes. does he still pause over it mentally, wondering if he's about to get smacked? yes. does he stay regardless, even if it might potentially make things worse? yes.

he's gotten a little used to it. so, he steels himself and Deals With It. ]

You... don't. That's why I asked.

[ ]

If you saw something in the pit, it's not really there. This place likes to show you things to make you uncomfortable. To upset you.

[ meant to be comforting, yes, but he lets just a hint of bitter slip through there. ]

[featheradrift]

I don't need you to tell me that. It's obvious.

[ He snaps back, but it's not smart to antagonize someone who's trying to be helpful when he's in an unknown, alien-looking city and his Anemo Vision is inert. But, at the same time, it's a little suspicious. ]

Why do you care anyways?

art: red room;

[cashewlater]

[ cyno can't help but want to explore any and every new crook of the city that is revealed, determined that somehow, somewhere, they will gain some useful intel, but more often than not it is simply more of the same. unsettling strangeness. blank notes. nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

this is certainly something, however the neon lights might disorient and disturb him. in the red room, cyno's skin is streaked with scars, painted across his body. he's not in the attire that the wanderer might recognize, but instead he's in something a little more comfortable, though not dissimilar - black shorts not unlike his usual, as well as his usual bolero top, but his helmet has been discarded for now, his hair pulled back into a messy tail instead. fabric warmers cling to his lower arms, and he wears several gold rings, and studs in his ears.

yet he is still irrevocably cyno, as this is irrevocably the wanderer. hat guy, as it were. a new arrival, he must assume, and how curious those scars on his knees are.. interested though he is to see someone else from teyvat, that terrible noise is making his head pound. ]

We should move on from here.

[featheradrift]

[ The voice is a familiar one. It takes him a little longer to place the look—he doesn't think he's ever seen the General Mahamatra in casual wear, but he supposes his usual regalia is unnecessary in the relative peace of the city.

He only looks for a moment before averting his gaze—it's hard to maintain eye contact for some reason. It's the red, he thinks, and the buzzing in his head, eating at his mind, searing his eyes. ]

Oh? I didn't know the General Mahamatra took a leave of absence from his duty.

[ A light, airy statement, and yet heavy with sarcasm. His usual, when he wasn't feeling comfortable enough to be gentler. ]

[cashewlater]

[ cyno frowns. why must be like this?? it's like he makes his entire life a contest out of being unlikable. thankfully cyno is a stoic man, and aside from his frown, he appears unruffled. ]

I had no choice in the matter, just like you.

[ the city chooses who it chooses, after all. ]

Believe me, I would rather be home.

[featheradrift]

[ It's not a contest—he is an unlikeable person, and he'd prefer people not get the wrong idea—that he might be nicer than he looks. Plus, he knows Cyno isn't going to do anything about his attitude, so what reason does he have to be nice??

It's the red, the discordant noise, the alien buildings and blocks of windows that have made him bare his fangs, to settle into something he is more comfortable with. ]

Too bad we can't all get what we want.

[ Bitterness, in his tone. He would mind all of this less if his Vision were not inert. That, to him, is the greatest injustice of this whole situation.

He still isn't looking at Cyno. Red doesn't suit the General Mahamatra, he thinks. ]

iii, red room

[cranekin]

(One of his favorite colors is red so it's only natural that Tsurumaru would wander into this room sooner than later. After months in this city, he's traded out his traditional kimono for more modern clothes-- a plain pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. There's little to suggest he may come from an older time or from Japan save for the white robe he wears loosely over his shoulders.

When he sees the Wanderer, his eyes linger on the lines and he makes no effort to even try to hide it. It's hard not to notice and he immediately thinks of the old dolls and puppets from when he was a younger spirit. Another thing like him, perhaps? Well, he'll wonder about that later. Right now, it seems he is in a state so Tsurumaru will approach and casually drop his robe over the boy's shoulders-- fine, high-quality kimono silk, gold chains jingling lightly, a stylized golden crane on a lacquer crest.

Skipping ahead, he calls out brightly without looking back at the Wanderer, )

My! What a boring room! I can feel myself turning to rust!

[featheradrift]

[ Through the haze of discordant noise and screeches, he feels eyes upon him, tracing the lines drawn into his skin—the sign of his inhumanity. He would call out the onlooker, but it's hard to focus, he vaguely thinks, under the layers of fog building up in his brain. There's something about this room that is throwing him off, and in hindsight, it would be fairly obvious, because who could stand to listen to the racket being played in this room, really.

But then, the weight of fabric is set unto his shoulders and he starts, blinking back into clarity. It's—familiar. In the style, the quality. Once upon a time, he had worn something similar. But it was once upon a time.

He turns his attention to Tsurumaru, the apparent owner of the robes draped over this shoulder, and he speaks, voice low, dangerous. ]

What's the meaning of this?

[cranekin]

(He slows to a stop and looks back. His expression is one of quiet surprise as if he's just noticed someone else is in the room with him.)

Hm? (He sounds innocent and he lets out a bright laugh,) Ah, you were standing so still, I thought you were a place to hang my clothes!

(He raises a bandaged hand in the air, the skin from the tips of his fingers up to his wrists showing marks from a burn. It may be difficult to see the details in the red light but while it may be healing, it seems relatively recent )

Oya, oya... do me a favor and bring it over.

I am so sorry for this boy's spiciness

[featheradrift]

[ Wrong answer. With a snarl, he rips the robe off his shoulder and whips it back at the other man with great force. Of course, it being cloth, it doesn't maintain the energy, but it has enough to make it to Tsurumaru with ease. ]

You dare try to command me??

[ There's a gut instinct to summon a swirl of Anemo to attack the offensive man, but, of course, nothing comes, and with a growl, he clenches his raised hand and whips it behind him, using the momentum to turn around and start stalking towards the exit of the room. ]

I don't have time to deal with vermin like you.