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?
▶ 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.
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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.
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I WANT TO BE SEEN CLEARLY, OR NOT AT ALL.
» DAY AFTER DAY IN THE ARTIST'S STUDIO…
When you step into the lobby of the museum, you find yourself faced with several options. Ahead of you, as well as to the right, are long hallways full of blank canvases, faceless statues, and pieces of art of varying skill levels created by fellow City residents. The hallways seem endless, but the lighting is warm and inviting, encouraging you to walk along their lengths and explore each of the canvases in search of some invisible treasure.
As you walk along the hallways lined by these empty frames, you begin to notice podiums standing at even intervals. They look like docent podiums, the kind where a museum guide might stand and store their guidebooks and informational materials. You decide to open one of the podiums, and are surprised to find that instead of a map of the museum and an explanation of the art, the podium is overflowing with various art supplies. There are watercolors and oil paints, acrylics and pastels, brushes and turpentine and palettes on which you can mix your shades.
Maybe you leave them there, or maybe you decide to create some art for yourself. These canvases just look so empty, after all, and deeply in need of a little color to brighten up the place. It doesn't seem all that likely that anyone will come around to punish you, either—and with that, you grab a handful of art supplies and make your way down to claim a canvas for your very own.
» …I DRAW A SECOND BODY, THEN A THIRD, AND SO ON.
Down the hallway to your left, however, is an exhibition room full of masterfully painted canvases, sculptures with faces, and even more abstract pieces of contemporary art. The walls are painted a warm, dark brown and the overhead lights draw attention to each of the pieces of artwork, leading your eyes around the room and encouraging you to gaze at each piece in turn. There are benches in the center of the room as well, cushioned ones that allow museumgoers to have a seat and spend a while contemplating the art they're observing.
As you continue around the room, examining each piece one by one, you begin to realize that some of these works of art look… familiar. Not familiar like you know who painted them, but familiar like you recognize the contents, or at least you recognize something about the setting or the circumstances depicted in the painting or sculpture. In fact, upon closer inspection, the common theme uniting all of the pieces of art becomes even clearer: these are all works of art that have to do with you.
There's a painting of the house where you spent your childhood, maybe, or a portrait of the woman who raised you. A sculpture depicting the person you've regarded as your rival for most of your life. There's the building where you went to school, or the jail where you were falsely imprisoned, or the ship that you spent months aboard before you ran aground. Each piece of art depicts some important moment in your life, whether positive or otherwise. Some are rendered in brilliant detail, while others are in an impressionist style, but it's clear that everything is somehow connected to you, in one way or another.
You look closely at each of the cards affixed to the walls next to the works of art. While each of the pieces has a title, the artist and year fields are blank—there's no way for you to know who created these pieces, but it must have been someone who knew you very, very well.
Before you know it, another museumgoer has entered the room. Maybe this is a little bit awkward now, letting someone else look so intently at all the most intimate moments of your life. Or maybe you find it exciting to finally be able to explain all of the happenings that made you who you are today. Either way, you find yourself compelled to give the newcomer a tour of the exhibit of you, and to explain to them the subject of each painting so that they might better understand how it ties in to the greater theme.
The art museum has been open since District 4 opened in November, but until now, the exhibit in the left wing of the museum has been closed to the public. It's open now, and full of beautiful works of art—paintings in different styles, sculptures, even more experimental and conceptual pieces—that all have to do with the theme of you. That's right, your character is the subject of this exhibition, and every piece of artwork in it features something that makes them who they are. They could depict landscapes of places that are significant to them, portraits of people who have influenced them throughout their lives, photographs of the worst things that have ever happened to them, or conceptual art depicting their mental state.
Upon entering the left wing, characters will feel the urge to stay there in the exhibition room and act as docent for their own exhibit. They will feel oddly compelled to explain at least two of the works of art in depth to any museum patrons who come through the exhibit, and only once they've given those two detailed explanations will they be able to leave the exhibit hall. The works of art can depict anything that was significant to the character, not only negative things but positive as well, and can be any style of art that the player wants to explore. Please feel free to be as creative as you want!
For characters who don't want to enter the exhibit hall at all, there is also the option to create art of their own. In the main and right wings, there are plenty of blank canvases all over the museum walls, and interspersed throughout the hallways are podiums containing various art supplies: watercolors, oil and acrylic paints, pastels, etc. Characters can make use of these mediums (or bring their own from home) to create works of art on the available blank canvases. These works of art will not be reset, unless a player chooses not to app, and starting the following day will have a museum card on the wall next to it indicating the title, artist, and medium of the artwork.
The title for this month's monthly prompt comes from "Bluest Nude," a poem by Ama Codjoe.
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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!
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citylogs2023-12-01 09:00 pm
Elidibus | Final Fantasy XIV (spoilers through most recent patch)
Elidibus was not unused to strange occurrences, throughout the many thousands of years of his existence he had seen many oddities. This, however, was a novelty. He had gone to rest at the end of his long journey, duty finished, the Star left in the hands of stewards able to protect it - and the end of all averted. It was tempting, to keep watch from the Aetherial Sea. So he did. Why resist such things? He watched, but from time to time, he closed his eyes to sleep. To rest after so long.
He did not expect to open them in a completely different place. From the start he can tell he is no longer on the Star he so loved, phone and network aside. The very feeling of his body had changed - he felt... lesser, somehow. No longer as mighty. But that did not trouble him overmuch.
Not when there was clearly new sights to see.
He heads up into the train station, and begins to take in what he can.
Artwork:
The gallery is full of shattered mirrors, and Elidibus stands transfixed. Swathes of light and dark war with one another, an ouroboros of balance with a long figure in white in the center. A slash of red across the faces mark his station, and he knows the truth of things. Divine justice stands tall in the center of the room, a depiction of his transformed self but eyes covered and wings broken, kneeling before a violet chrysalis. There are paintings of his outline but no features. Outlines of his people but without faces. Great sheathes of poetry where all the pages are blotted out with bleeding ink. And all around the mirrors throw broken images of all back at him.
He stands before the statue wordlessly, unable to bring himself to move. He knows it is the truth, was the truth for millennia as his memories and very identity was lost inch by agonizing inch. That he has it returned is no comfort, not now. Not when the mirrors twist his own face in ways he almost doesn't recognize.
Wildcard!
Free space, tag me with whatever!
no subject
And though he enters the exhibit in search of the young man within, any words he may have to say to Elidibus fall silent at the display before him--meant for Elidibus, but echoing so deeply within him that his breath shudders.
A future yet to come. One soul of many, soon to be lost in that swirling darkness. And the heart of it all here before him now. It cannot be ignored and will not be forgotten, but Hythlodaeus tears his gaze from the sight nonetheless, plastering a smile on his face and doing his best to appear welcoming.
"I think I preferred the previous art installation more," he quips lightly. "Much more whimsical, for one, and not something I think we would see on Etheirys."
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"It is a shame to have missed such a thing, I should have liked to see it." His eyes rove around at the walls for another moment before returning to Hythlodaeus's, a wry smile sliding onto his lips, "Though you must forgive me if I admit the bar has been set quite low by these pieces, striking as they are."
Turning, Elidibus tears his attention from the exhibit entirely with a bit of willpower. It has been some time since he had seen Hythlodaeus in the flesh - though he had come to rest, whole, within the Aetherial Sea. A lack of attention would not do.
"With that in mind, our reunion should take place outside of these confines," he pauses for a moment, thinking. "Though I am unfamiliar with this place as of yet. Would you be willing to lead?"
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"There is a diner that the people here have set up to welcome those who have only just arrived, as well as to provide what information we have gathered so far. Alternatively, there are plenty of other restaurants available if you would prefer to explore the culinary fare first, though the restaurants are not always trustworthy."
He gnaws for a moment at the inside of his lip, carefully considering his words as he leads the way to the exit. "Though if you do not mind, I have a couple of questions to ask. Odd ones, perhaps."
no subject
Though he does not yet know what the other man remembers.
"The diner shall do, I would not want to inconvenience you overmuch," he looks slightly amused. "Though I am curious why said establishments are untrustworthy - I suppose I will find out soon enough."
That Hythlodaeus has questions is to be expected, and Elidibus allows his smile to fade in favor of a more serious expression. Nothing grave, but giving the respect owed. "I suspect that I may have similarly odd answers. Ask, and I shall answer as best as I am able - do not fear the subject."
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After all, asking what he remembers seems almost... cruel.
"What is it that you were doing before your arrival? Were there any particular events of note?"
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"Ah, you wish to determine from which point in time I was plucked?" not unexpected, that. "I had gone to my rest within the Aetherial Sea, after our Star had seen its salvation. Though I had kept watch for a time after nihilism's defeat, seeing how our new old friend took to their new dawn."
Plenty to inform the other man, without delving into details which may confuse one taken from the past.
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"Aetherial Sea" is a new term, but he believes he can glean its meaning all the same. The word "Salvation" strikes a different cord, one drawn together from second-hand memories and an ill-advised cup of tea. But if Elidibus was seeking rest, then the salvation that comes to mind couldn't be the same one painted on the walls they just left.
"... The future, then," he decides. "Approximately twelve thousand years so, if I am correct?"
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"All events led to our Star's survival, and for that I have no regrets." The words come easy, utterly sincere. "You are from the past, then?"
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Pandaemonium spoilers
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artwork.
It's hypocritical advice from Daan; too often this place has played upon his experiences and fears, his greatest failures, and no one else is any different. But he's always been one to dispense advice regardless.
And so: he addresses the too tall man, a bag slung over his shoulder. Daan gives a vague gesture, as if to suggest they make their way to the exit.
"Whoever runs this city probably gets their kicks by messing with us. Wouldn't be the first time... and certainly it won't be the last."
no subject
"Such imagery is not new to me - the strange draw, though, was troublesome. Is it always such? Influences of the mental variety?"
With a last glance back at the shattered mirrors, Elidibus fully turns his back on it. He is himself, he is whole, and there is a new individual here to meet. "I am known as Elidibus, and it is good to meet you. Would you kindly lead? I am yet newly arrived."
no subject
So he's opted to walk away from it. He haunts himself perfectly well on his own, and doesn't need the outside help.
"I'm not exactly a museum goer on an average day, but this is only typical in this city specifically, I've found. Whoever is running the show seems to enjoy bringing out parts of ourselves we'd rather leave behind. Hell knows I've got plenty of examples under my belt by now."
At the introduction, he gives a polite nod. "Call me Daan. A pleasure, Elidibus. C'mon, I'll show you out."
As promised, he turns on a heel to begin their walk.
"This is about the time in which people start showing up here, so that tracks. Though I guess if you're lucky, maybe you'll bump into a friendly face or two. In the meanwhile, I'll try to answer your questions."
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Elidibus follows the other man, his height allowing him to easily keep pace. Keen eyes flit here and there as they travel, taking in the surroundings as they pass - filing away details from each sense.
"That there is some sense of predictability is some measure of comfort. How long have you been in this place, if I may ask?" knowing full well that some do not wish to speak about themselves, Elidibus nonetheless wishes to gather information. About Daan, about this city - his curiosity is in full force.
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Either way, at least he doesn't have to deal with it by himself.
"Mm, about half a year now. To be honest, I still don't entirely know what's going on. None of us do. We have dozens of theories, too few facts."
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That had been one reason why Elidibus had wandered, ending up at the art exhibition. Familiarizing himself with the area could only provide him with boons in the future, but more immediately, knowing where the living spaces were - and what surrounded them - was imperative.
"A mystery to all, then? Well, my people were always avid researchers, no matter the topic. From teleportation to healing magicks, from new ways of harnessing the elements to new designs of creations - even the most unique of niches had one passionate about its study." Even if he preferred to learn as much as he could about a wide range of things, Elidibus did appreciate those who took to a specific topic with single-minded focus. "Sky, sea, land, it mattered not."
He smiles now, looking down towards Daan, "I do not mind lacking the knowledge at present. It will be an interesting journey, uncovering facts one by one."
no subject
He'd prefer it that way.
As for Elidibus, Daan gives him his full attention, but he does seem to be surprised to hear about how educated his people are. Though, that could mean anything; perhaps his "people" are merely the rich and the lavish, the nobility, leaving the lower class to squander. That would not surprise him.
For now, he focuses on a point of topic immediately familiar and most interesting to him: "You say healing magicks. Is that something you yourself are familiar with? Can you elaborate on that?"
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"To clarify, I mean both of the physical first aid as well as the magical varieties. My abilities have been lessened by nature of this place, but I am sure that they would bee effective enough should I ever need to make use of them." He hoped not. Things did not seem to be overly violent here, and even if things should go that way he had confidence in his combat prowess to prevent injury.
Noting Daan's interest, he smiles. "Is that a topic you are familiar with yourself?"
Artwork | Spoilers through Endwalker.
Not so much this particular hall, however, even with its imperfect and cryptic reflections. For at its heart he has already detected a thread of aether - persevering and warm and nigh on ageless even by lofty Amaurotine standards. A willing shift into aethersight reveals to him a unique color which can belong to only one. ...And that's where Emet-Selch finds Elidibus.
His sharp gaze sweeps over the walls, settling on the familiar white robes as he makes his way to his side.
"I've heard it said that works of art are as mirrors unto the soul. Reflecting a man's aspirations and ambitions, his most enduring of hopes and most unyielding of struggles. A thousand words captured within a single brushstroke."
For Emet-Selch's part, he looks much the same as he always has in the world unsundered. His red lacquer mask hangs about his neck, just as it would have during meetings of high import. And though he is not dressed in his usual robes, the overcoat he wears is modest and black.
Endwalker spoilers
He had gone to rest in the sea of souls with Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch so recently, after all. So it is all too easy to regain his composure, face already bearing that genuine smile, mind quieting. Elidibus, too, looks as if he had stepped out from that unsundered world. The same face, hair, the white robes and red mask hanging upon his chest - only the eyes are different. They retain their color, but have aged in their depths.
Sweeping an arm out to gesture at the exhibit around them, his face takes on a far more placid look. "As you are far more adept in the matters of the soul, I must defer to your opinion," he says, evenly. Deliberately so. "Though I shall also question your taste, should the numerous installations of broken glass be attractive to you."
Looking back now at Emet-Selch, it is clear that Elidibus attempting to restrain himself from laughing.
"It is far too literal in this case, leaving the viewer no room for interpretation," if the mirrors are souls, and they are broken... "That is without speaking of its inaccuracies. That fate never befell myself."
no subject
At last Emet-Selch lets out a long, low sigh, though not before something pained and conflicted crosses his face. After all, he always was a sentimental sort despite his grumbling and bluster.
"So I've been apprised. And so you have lived...and returned, it seems."
A statement rather than a question. He sees no need to ask nor to hide what little he knows of the future. Emet-Selch doesn't manage to return that same calm placidity - emotion tremors within him - but he remains straight-faced; professional.
"Though I should think you as much as anyone would know I take no pleasure in seeing my colleagues broken, Elidibus. Nor my people reduced to mere fragments of half-forgotten memory."
A cross of his arms, his customary way of speaking returning in the form of a complaint, one which may simply be an attempt to clear the air.
"In other words, I find it a distasteful portrayal. Insulting even. Were the curator present, and you less even-tempered, I might even suggest that you bring the matter to their attention."
no subject
"Perhaps I may do so regardless of my temper, should the curator ever appear. Unfortunately, it appears that we would be waiting for quite some time before that would occur, and I for one do not wish to linger overmuch in this place."
He does not look back when he steps forward, his attention entirely on Emet-Selch. Elidibus stops just shy of where the taller man stands. That calm, collected bearing slowly slips from his face, blue eyes bright and expressive. A myriad of emotions play over those youthful features, eventually settling on a bittersweet fondness - he does not know from which time Emet-Selch has been taken, but for him, everything had already happened. Erichthonios had come from the past, so it is possible that this version of his friend could hail from a world prior to the sundering as well.
Whatever the case, heedless of the other man's personal space, Elidibus reaches out and gently pulls Emet-Selch into a hug. They had not had the chance, having gone to rest in differing ways - though they all rested within the underworld. Simple comforts like a friendly embrace had simply not happened. So he takes advantage of this place, of this opportunity.
Emet-Selch, he hopes, won't protest too much.
"It is good to see you, my dear old friend," fond though the words are, they are tired.
no subject
Emet-Selch sighs loudly enough that Elidibus can hear, his shoulders slumping dramatically as he tolerates the gesture - but only just.
"I can't say I much appreciate being called old by you of all people, but I confess I am relieved to see you. And just as much equally perplexed by it."
He lifts a hand to rest atop the shorter man's head, tousling his hair slightly - a brief and perhaps amusingly ridiculous gesture given the circumstances. Lahabrea would never let him get away with it, but then Elidibus himself seems determined to eschew formalities.
"Shall we take our leave of this place and find another more conducive to discussion? While I've no doubt you would prefer to dwell upon happier moments, and to further your own investigations into the nature of this place, there are at least a few details I think it best we get out of the way."
no subject
That he remembers at all remains a novelty. There had been time to reconcile his memories when they had been returned to him, but it was still all too recent. What was thousands of years compared to so little a span?
He chuckles softly, "You seem to be lost much the same as I am, though - regardless of the strangeness of this place - I find the chance gained to be welcome."
Releasing Emet-Selch, he pulls back to beam brightly up at the taller man, "Of course, we must catch up. You will have to lead the way, I'm afraid, there has been little time for me to familiarize myself with the area. And with the people present, what few we seem to be. Erichthonios was present upon my arrival, and together we have ventured only a limited range."
No doubt this place had curiosities abound, if the art gallery was an example. If Emet-Selch has been here for a time, his insight would be invaluable. Elidibus stands ready to follow, gesturing for Emet-Selch to lead the way.
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"Lost in a different way than you are, I would imagine. Nevertheless, I suppose calling it a 'chance' is apt enough. Would that I shared in your optimism, however."
Taking Elidibus's cue, Emet-Selch guides them out of that particular gallery, willfully ignoring a pair of towering sculptures in long, weeping cloaks as he presses towards the entrance and at last the doors which will lead them outside. The air has a chill - indicating that winter isn't long off, and yet somehow it feels much warmer already.
"As you've already noticed, the population here is exclusively made up of those who have been summoned by our supposed benefactors. Or at least, that's the general assumption. No one has yet stepped forward to take responsibility for our current predicament. Plants abound in what parks the city has to offer, yet there isn't so much as a stirring or a squeak of any creatures - terrestrial or otherwise - to be found."
"And, yes, I encountered Erichthonios earlier. Although now that you mention it, he did say something about a familiar falling out of the sky and crashing directly into you. ...Among other things."
He glances back at his companion. "Is that how it happened, truly?"
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It seems a lonely existence, only their handful living here. But no more lonely than he'd experienced in the past. The company and circumstances are better, at least.
"So we are left to our own devices," his fingers press to his lips and chin in thought, "Curious. That seems a risk, though perhaps less so with the muting of our abilities." He had noticed that immediately, feeling his being and reserves of aether made lesser. It was an odd sensation, and not one he particularly enjoyed. Still, it left his personality and identity untouched, so for that he was content.
He shoots Emet-Selch a smile as he looks back, "Truly, it was. Falling from nowhere, they struck me as a star falls from the heavens. He was a fascinating sort, and one I was proud to claim as my friend - proving invaluable in my investigations into Pandaemonium." Erichthonios and Obsidian at his side, delving into the secrets of that prison, it was an adventure he kept close in his heart.
"Erichthonios and I have found lodgings together, though I must ask after your own living situation. Have you settled in just as well?"
sorry for the delay o/;;
(no subject)