[closed]

[badfeyth]

WHO: Ghost (badfeyth), Reno (astraphilia) , Johanna (keepgodwaiting) , Lestat (perfectdevil) , Alhaitham (justscribing) , and Kaveh (fussiest) .
WHAT: The "Monologue With The Moon" player plot!
WHERE: [emphatic shrug]
WHEN: 1/6/24
WARNINGS: Possible references to murder, violence, related dark themes, medical equipment, Omelas Kid™ Scenarios, shady institutions and their operations, etc.

You are standing in a nondescript, space-age sort of room; the walls are a silver metal so polished that you can almost see shadows of a reflection in it, and the floor is likewise sturdy and reinforced. There are two Star Trek-style sliding doors leading out of the room, one on the left wall and one on the right. Both are currently in open position, enabling you to see out into the corridor beyond; it looks pretty much the same out there as your surroundings in here. Maybe there are doors; you'd have to look closer to check.

Currently in the room with you is a pretty normal-looking wooden podium that's clearly seen some use (though in what ways, you'd have to look more closely at it to determine), and a very abnormal-looking escape portal that's just kind of floating in midair, definitely big enough for even a very tall human to walk through, but for the fact that it's behind an impenetrable forcefield. You're welcome to hurl yourself at this, hit it, whatever, all that you want, but unfortunately it ain't budging under any method currently available to you or your party.

Really, your circumstances look something like this:

The other thing you might notice is that your clothes have received a slight glam-up, in the sense that clipped to a pocket, lapel, belt loop, or other convenient area of your attire is some sort of ID card. That might be worth having a look at.

Speaking of having a look at things, maybe you ought to look around?

Comments

[justscribing]

[How interesting. Alhaitham is going to take with him one of Ghost's journals and one of the other person's journals.

And then, just to be sure, he's going to kick over the beanbags and see if anything is under them. This is unlikely, but he's inclined to be thorough.]

[badfeyth]

[He is now in possession of two journals! Inventory get.

Kicking over the beanbags tragically does not do anything except send clearly-loved possessions and post-it notes scattering haphazardly around the room as the big weighty masses of bean-filled fabric displace them. The pristine stack of blank journals that Kaveh found goes spilling all over the floor. It replaces itself instantly in the exact same height and number immediately thereafter.

Is there any other property damage you want to cause, Godzilla?]

[fussiest]

Hey! [ kaveh says from where he'd been examining some of the post-its, head whipping up at a clip: ] This isn't a pile of rocks in the middle of the desert you're circling, this is Ghost's room. Be gentle, you brute! Surely you know the meaning of the word, what good otherwise are the twenty languages they beat into the solid rock of your head?

[justscribing]

[There will, unfortunately, be no further property damage because the wife is mad. He is raising his eyebrow at how the stack automatically resets itself.]

And what about you? Are you going to put all of those journals back where you found them?

[fussiest]

Taking journals and kicking over a pile of them are two entirely different actions, and you know it! Besides, we'll need something to write on if we are to organise our collective thoughts later. Removing journals is constructive - kicking over beanbags is just you testing boundaries again.

[justscribing]

I was checking if anything was under them. Knocking over your growing stack was collateral damage. [Which, he glances between the books and the shelf.] ... Aren't there more books than there is space for them?

[fussiest]

Then limit your collateral damage. You know how to do that. [ ... a beat. kaveh also looks. ] ... well, yes. But that in itself isn't unusual. In case you've forgotten, you're like that too. You're very like that.

[justscribing]

No, Kaveh. The ones you're pulling out. [His gaze flickers again as he makes the mental calculation. This had not happened on his side of the shelves.] Are they duplicating?

[fussiest]

[ ... oh. kaveh looks at his books, then at the pile. ]

There didn't seem to be an end to them, it's true. I suspect if we take the entire pile, another pile will spring up.

[ ... a contemplative silence, because that seems terribly useful, if it were in the real world. an endless supply on sketchbooks on demand. but in a space where, well, space is limited - that seems deadly. ]

[justscribing]

Is there anything in them that makes it worth pulling the whole stack down?

[fussiest]

Oh, I know that look. That look is trouble. You are trouble. No, there isn't, because the entire pile is blank. As in, all the books are blank.

Ghost did mention she used to write stories. These must be where she wrote them.

[justscribing]

There's a whole shelf with journals full of them. [He wiggles one of the books he grabbed.] The other ones only seem to have the planning stages, but it's thorough research. Perhaps they were writing together?

[fussiest]

... much in the way that we write together, I suppose. One following one another. [ ... ] Did you get that sense, too?

[justscribing]

I did. [How close they must have been to finish thoughts and build concepts together. To wind together a private world that was between the two of them, pressed between two beanbag chairs with a shared device. Alhaitham knows it. Kaveh knows it.]

Though I haven't seen a name. It might be deeper in here or in one of the other rooms.

[fussiest]

[ they know it, alhaitham and kaveh. the creature that they once were, and that they have become, knows it. ]

... perhaps. Or rather, I hope we find the name in another one of the rooms. I don't know how to feel if that name is entirely gone.

[justscribing]

Worried she forgot it, or she refuses to think about it?

[fussiest]

Worried that she has a reason to forget or to not think about it.