THE THINGS I GAVE YOU.
» THE BANK — INTRODUCTORY NOTES
District 2 is open, bringing with it access to new and interesting locations—including the city's main bank branch. The bank is a large building with a stone exterior, wrought iron grating on the windows, and large, heavy metal doors that take surprisingly little effort to open, their hinges silent and well-oiled.
Early in the day on July 19, characters in the vicinity of the bank will hear first a low, metallic creaking sound from inside the building, like metal straining against metal. This is followed by the sharper noise of locks disengaging, and then the large, heavy doors on the front of the building swing open slightly, enough to let a person through.
Directly inside the doors is the bank lobby, and beyond that is the main banking floor, with elegant marble flooring and dimly lit chandeliers. It would appear that this was once the main commercial bank of the city, although it is now completely empty, with no tellers behind the counters and no cash in any of the drawers.
You may rifle through the tills and filing cabinets to your heart's content, but similar to the files in City Hall, there is no useful information to be found—all the papers are blank, or are empty forms without any personally identifying information. There are no monetary devices to be found either; this is, after all, not a city that operates on a cash system, so there are no coins or paper bills in any of the tills or, indeed, anywhere within the bank.
What you might be able to find, though, is a rack of delicate, burnished brass keys on a wall toward the back of the main banking hall. Each of these keys is attached to a stamped metal keychain bearing a name on one side and a number on the other. Some of these may be names you recognize, and some of them may not, but they are all names belonging to current residents of the city, and each key corresponds to a safety deposit box within the vault at the back of the building. Can you remember what you stored in that box for safekeeping? Maybe you had better go find out.
At the back of the main banking hall is a vault secured with a large circular metal door. The door is currently unlocked and propped open; it can be closed, but cannot be locked (intentionally, anyway) from either the inside or the outside. The vault contains row upon row of safety deposit boxes, each locked. Participating characters who are in possession of a key can open their own safety deposit box, but it is not currently possible to force open any safety deposit box that does not belong to them. After August 1, players will be able to use their safety deposit boxes to store their own belongings, and break-ins will become possible with prior player permission and appropriate consequences.
Below sections detail the safety deposit boxes for both choose-your-own-adventure players and randomized players! Please see the randomized matches for this event HERE.
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IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A SELF-GUIDED TOUR
For some of you, getting into your safety deposit box is quite straightforward.
You take your key from the rack behind the teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—something that shouldn't be there. It's yours, that much you're sure of, but you didn't bring it with you to the city. You reach into the box to pick it up, and the surge of memory is immediate, sending your mind back to your strongest memory associated with the item in your hand.
Then the vault door swings shut, trapping you inside with whoever else has the misfortune of sharing the vault with you right now. No matter what force you try, the door won't open again. There doesn't appear to even be a mechanism that unlocks the door from the inside, and from within several feet of metal and stone, no one on the outside will be able to hear you shout. It seems hopeless—how long can anyone last, trapped in a place like this?
Should you turn back to the open safety deposit box, you might notice a slip of paper resting on the bottom. The paper looks aged, like it's been in the box for quite some time, and in printed text it reads: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it."
Maybe it means you should let another hold the item you've retrieved from the box… or maybe it means you should share the weight of memory. Try to interpret the meaning in whatever way you can. But should you decide to unburden yourself, and share with someone else the weight of the item you're holding in your hands, you may find that there's a means of escape after all.
Once you free yourself from the vault, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who wish to participate in the event, but who do not wish to randomize the contents of their safety deposit boxes, can open their safety deposit boxes to find an emotionally significant item belonging to the character—player's choice as to what the item is. The only guidelines are that it should be small enough to fit reasonably in a pocket and may not have any magical or weapon properties. Similarly, players are able to choose the memories associated with the items in the safety deposit boxes. The vault door will remain closed until the characters in the vault explain to each other the significance of their items and the memory associated with them, at which point it the vault mechanisms will disengage and the door will swing open as if it had never closed to begin with. However, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL.
» SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A JOINT VENTURE
For others of you, the contents of the safety deposit box may be considerably more disconcerting.
You also take your safety deposit box key from the rack behind the bank teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not.
When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check.
You open the safety deposit box to find—wait, what is that? It certainly doesn't belong to you. Tucked inside the safety deposit box alongside the item is a slip of paper with another name on it, as well as a cryptic message: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." The item isn't yours, but it does appear to belong to another resident of the city. Maybe your safety deposit boxes somehow got mixed up? It seems like it would be a good idea to find this person and return their property to them.
Whether you encounter the owner of the item in the vault or elsewhere in the city, when it comes time to hand the item over, two things happen. One—the doors are locked tight, refusing to allow either you or the item's owner out until you both understand what the item is and what it means to the other. To unburden your heart is the only way to free yourself.
And two—as the owner of the item explains its significance, you find yourself oddly captivated, resonating strongly with whatever emotion the item's owner most closely associates with it. You may not be able to see the memory that the other person describes, but you can certainly feel the emotions they felt—after all, the easiest way to unburden oneself is to share the load with another. Isn't that right?
Once you free yourself from your enthralled state, and once you have your own belongings returned to you, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry…
Characters who opted to randomize the contents of their safety deposit box during the plotting post, or who plotted a joint experience with another character, will open their safety deposit boxes to find a small, non-magical but emotionally significant item belonging to another player character in the city. They will need to find the owner of that item and return it to them—this can either be inside the bank vault or in another location within the city. Regardless of where the meeting takes place, the character holding the item will find themselves unable to leave until the character who owns the item explains its significance; as they do, the holder of the item will find themselves swept up in the emotional highs and lows of the memories associated with that item, allowing them to share all of the feelings, regrets, joys, griefs, and rages that the owner experiences in the telling. Additionally, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning.
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. 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.
This month's event headers come from "The Things" and "The Gatherer," two poems by Brendan Constantine. The text of the paper slip comes from Ursula K. LeGuin's The Dispossessed.
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citylogs2023-07-19 08:45 pm
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"Well..." He huffs and pushes some of his hair back with his free hand. "Not to worry. Someone will come along. A lot of people got keys to this place." They'll eventually want to unlock their boxes and when they do, the door will be opened from the outside.
"You're going to be fine." His expression faulters a moment. "I mean, we both are. You don't need reassuring from me." Of course not. Stop rambling, Hob.
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Loki doesn’t know how to react at first. Without thinking he places a hand on Hob’s shoulder as the other man clearly tried to calm himself down. “Are you quite alright, Robert?” His voice comes out uncharacteristically gentle. He’s not used to worrying about such things, but it seems he might actually think of Hob as a friend already. It usually takes a lot to get even remotely close to Loki, but somehow someone treating him nicely was working wonders on him.
“I do not need reassuring about our situation, but I would like some reassurance that you are okay. I would like it if you would take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Would you do that for me?”
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"I'm alright," he says, trying to assure Loki that he'll be fine. At the request, Hob nods a little and complies. He slowly breathes in, eyes drifting closed as he takes in the precious air, then lets it pass between his lips again. He does this several times. Slowly.
After a few moments, Hob opens his eyes, appearing steadier than before. "I.. feel better. Thank you." Loki gets an appreciative smile. "Sorry about that." He didn't mean to worry his new friend.
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What he’s more concerned about now is Hob’s reaction. Or more accurately, his ability to deal with it. He has enjoyed his time with the other man so far and does not wish to ruin that by messing this up.
He doesn’t quite believe him at first, when he says he’s okay, but Loki is relieved when he does as asked and takes a deep breath. Loki keeps his hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, hoping that is as comforting as he thinks it might be.
“You are most welcome, and you have nothing to apologize for.” Loki slowly took his hand away, though he was a bit reluctant to do so. It isn’t often he touched so freely and he found it something he missed more than he would care to admit. “I, um, I would like you to know, that I did not shut the door myself. It closed on its own. I did not intend for us to be shut in here.”
What’s that? Loki’s used to people blaming him for everything? No, not at all!
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When Loki tells him that he’s not responsible for their entrapment, Hob shakes his head and takes a slight step forward. “Of course. I didn’t think you had.” Not even for a moment had blaming Loki crossed his mind. Maybe someone is responsible or maybe it’s just dumb luck and the door shut on its own. Either way, he wasn’t about to accuse the god.
“Besides, there are better ways to get me alone,” he jokes with a broad smile. “I guess we’ll be stuck here for a while.” He looks down at the object clasped tightly in his hand, covered by his curled fingers in his palm.
“Were you here to open a box?”
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For the briefest of moments, Loki doesn’t believe Hob. Usually this sort of entrapment would be right up his alley. Though he likely wouldn’t have caught himself in the trap as well. Then he remembers that the other man doesn’t really know him at all, and he relaxes. He hadn’t actually thought Hob would outright blame him, he just wanted to nip that in the bud before it occurred to him.
Loki can’t help the smirk that pulls at his mouth. He likes the way this man teases so easily. “I imagine people try to get you alone a lot,” he replies. He says it jovially enough, but he imagines it’s true. His eyes follow Hob’s as he looks down at his hand, and Loki has to admit he’s curious.
“I was considering it, yes. I admit I have been hesitant about seeing what might or might not be waiting for me.” Hob’s own reaction to what he found has hardly made him feel better about seeing though. It could be so many things Loki does not want to remember.
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Loki's words may be teasing, but Hob can't help but flush a bit at what feels like another flirtation. They're both good with that sort of banter, it seems. Hob has a feeling it would be easy to spend all night tossing cheeky comments back and forth across a table with this man.
When Loki confesses he's unsure about opening his box, Hob looks down at the object he pulled from his own. His hand lifts and he uncurls his fingers, holding an aged portrait there. Loki can take it for a closer look, if he'd like.
"This was in mine. It's a picture... of my wife and son. Dead some 400 years now." He glances hesitantly from the picture to Loki's face.
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The flush that creeps up Hob’s cheeks is quite lovely and Loki feels something akin to pride that he’s somehow made him feel a bit better after being clearly bothered by what was in his box. That also was a new feeling, actually helping someone feel better. Is this what it’s like to have a real friend?
Loki does want to see. He raises his hand to cup Hob’s to hold it steady so he can take a good look. It’s sad really. This is one reason why Loki never really mingled with mortals beyond maybe a tryst here and there, and even that was long before he’d tried to invade Midgard.
He smiles softly at Hob. “They look lovely. Would you like to tell me about them?”
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"Eleanor was a wonderful woman. Kind. Compassionate. Just lovely to be around. Robyn was... a handful." Hob laughs softly. "But a good boy at heart. A lot like me when I was younger." In too many ways, maybe.
A deep sigh and Hob closes his hand and tucks the trinket into his pocket. "I didn't expect to find something like this here. I wonder what it means."
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Right now, Loki is much more interested in learning other things about Hob. Namely about his family. The woman must have been special if he chose to be with her knowing that he would greatly outlive her and their child. Loki smiles at Hob’s description. “Children who are handfuls are the ones that grow up to be the most interesting.” He means that as a compliment. Loki himself had been described as a handful and rightfully so. Though he’s unsure anyone other than maybe Frigga thought he might be good at heart.
“No, I don’t supposed that is something that would be expected.” Loki’s eyes drift over towards the boxes again as Hob puts the picture away. Despite how sad his new friend sounds, this whole experience is making him even more curious to find out what is in his own box. And yet he still hesitates. “I do not know what it means, but I suspect they are watching for our reactions. It would at least explain why some seem so personal.”
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"Watching us?" For a moment, he looks around as though he might spy cameras. "But for what purpose? What do they expect our reactions to be?" Is it such a shock that people here might be upset or sad if given a memento from the past? He knows Loki doesn't have the answer to any of those questions; he's just a little frustrated with it all.
"I understand if you don't want to give them the satisfaction." Hob is giving Loki an opportunity to choose to not open his box if he doesn't want to.
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"That is the ultimate question, is it not? Why would they do any of this? I must assume there is a purpose, but without knowing who has taken us, I could not do anything but guess as to why anything happens here. I do wish I had a better answer for you though." Really, Loki was just as frustrated as Hob. A frustration that is growing into something closer to anger the longer he goes without his magic a full capacity. The longer he goes without answers of any kind, the more he simply wants to say fuck it and just cause chaos all over town.
Loki sighs and looks over towards the boxes. "You are correct, I do not, however that really is only secondary." He pulls his key from his pocket and turns it over in his hand as if he was still considering what to do, when really he already knew he was going to open it. His curiosity had simply become too much. Loki was not the type to be able to go without knowing.
He flashes Hob a bit of a smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Seeing as we are stuck here, I might as well give into my curiosity finally." With that he moves to find his box. Taking a deep breath, he slides the key into its slot, turns it, opens the box and finds...
"A tea cup?" The confusion in his voice could not be missed.
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Whoever is to blame for putting the deposit boxes into place seem to have set a less personal item in Loki's. As the god opens his box, Hob tries to take a gander over his shoulder, only able to see the item once it's properly removed and made visible.
"Not... something you're attached to?" No sentimental memories concerning this particular cup?
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With a deep frown on his face, he turns to Hob, holding it up. “More than that, I have never seen this particular cup before.” It has some sort of intricate design on it that Loki is sure he would recognize. Suddenly a look of realization comes across his face and he smiles a bit devilishly. He knows a prank when he sees one. “It seems our captors want to play a little joke on me. I wonder if it belongs to someone else here?” He wonders a lot of things about why he’s got this instead of something he might actually recognize, but the first thing that comes to mind is if he has something that belongs to someone else, then perhaps he has their item.
Interesting. Very interesting.
“What do you think, Robert? Have you heard of anyone else getting something that did not belong to them?”
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"A joke on you?" Hob is amused by the idea, but the tea cup is definitely curious. Why would that be in his box? But yes, maybe it was not meant for him. "Perhaps it does belong to another. I think I heard something like that on the network." For a second, Hob is glad that he got his own item. It's not the sort of possession he'd really want in the hands of another.
A loud click behind them has Hob turning to look as the vault door slowly creeps open. "Oh, we've been set free." Guess their captors wanted to ensure they both opened their boxes.
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"Or perhaps I will make myself a nice pot of tea."
He was just considering inviting Hob to have some tea with him when the door suddenly opened again. There's a flash of disappointment on his face, but Loki quickly covers it with a smile. "Now, that is more like it." He straightens his posture and moves back towards the door. "It has been a pleasure, as always Robert. We should do this again sometime, but perhaps without the being stuck in an enclosed space against our wills."
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As Loki makes his move for the door, Hob takes a few quick steps after him. "Wait. I... feel a little cheated, not getting to see something of yours from your box. Maybe you can show it to me later, if you track it down and if it's not too upsetting?" Hob has no idea what the item might be, but he can't help but think he somehow missed an opportunity to get to know Loki a little better. Not through any fault of their own, of course.
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He stops immediately at Hob’s words and turns, a surprised little smile on his face. “I would like that very much, if you are certain.” His tone denotes nothing but politeness as he tries to hide his own eagerness. Loki has enjoyed all his time with Hob so far and would like the opportunity to see him again and this time not by simple random chance.