Watching them through the screen was fascinating, the Observer would have to admit; had anyone else been present to spark a conversation. Otherwise, they were silent...ambiguously ominous as they had been in the past. The face on the screen, half-hidden through the hardly functioning lights of the bridge were interesting. Though they had yet to specify, the Observer was well aware that Miss Autumn and her 'wayward' companions were spread aboard a ship named 'Grandeur Rust'. It knew much of them, and much of the journey they had undertaken; though previously observed through a less-than-mundane medium. It shifted in its seat, waving a hand that seemed to be composed of flickers rather than flesh and made sure to make symmetrical the undulating shroud of gray that framed its not-quite-body, hoping that its attention would not be drawn, again, elsewhere in the Void.
Miss Autumn slowly removed the hand from beneath her lip, leaving a small streak in the drying blood that seemed to coat her; eyes of an indeterminable color seeking something in the distance, for the barest of moments.
"You were talking about Pygmalion's Gallery", a voice prompted with calculated monotone, the Observer supposed/knew that it was the ship's Artificial Intelligence Assistant, "is something wrong, Miss Autumn? Aside from your curren-"
"I dunno, now shuddup," her voice was hoarse, her syllabic canter as askew as always, her accent somewhere between Old-Earth Brooklyn and O.E New Jersey, though the Observer knew it was more an act, than an accent, "I'm tellin' a story. Pyg's Gal wasn't anything big, y'know, Art? It was-"
"I have told you that my name is Ca-"
"'Cart', fine, then. Never met such an uppity machine, before."
Miss Autumn straightened her back, revealing a few wounds that glistened stark crimson against the meticulously umbral outline of her rather outlandish garb. The Observer silently contemplated how it was a nice mesh of colors, and how the frayed flesh complimented the hexagonal pattern of the bodysuit; then, even more silently thanked the Fates that she wasn't still wearing her reflective helmet...or using her voice mod. Slowly, Autumn placed a fist beneath her chin and leaned forward; as though expecting some combativeness from the AIA. When Cart didn't respond for a long thirty seconds, she settled back, crossing her arms across the wounds and letting her head fall back onto the seat.
"So, yeah, like I was sayin'...Pyg's Gal was where the Bond was forged," she cast an eye down towards the screen, prompting the Observer to note that her eyes were green, staring nigh-vacantly into the souls of whoever happened to be watching, a momentary frown forming on her face before she looked upwards toward some fleeting burst of light, then away, "You're broadcasting this, right? To everyone that can hear whatever siren song you sent out?"
"Yes, Miss Autumn," Cart was brusque, but the Observer smiled at how well the AIA was tolerating the presence of this intruder, "given the threats that your crew made-"
"They ain't my crew," she warned with a flick of the finger, "I don't claim to be the leader. We ain't got much of one, as it is. I just happened to be the first one here. Might be the last. Now lemme get on with the damn story, alright?"
"Yes, Miss Autumn."
"Now, as I was sayin'..."
The Observer would have smiled, if anyone had been there to see it. Rare though the compulsion was, it would not have to listen to get the fullness of the journey...perhaps one more time. It stood from its throne, cast amidst flickering constellations and the ragged breaths of a Collapsing Space; immediately expanding in size and dimension to form a thin dome around the entirety of its domain, taking on a prismatic cast and settling into a scene that was not the beginning of an individual story...but the first tenuous thread, that it would happen to call an adequate starting place; unfortunately it seemed that finding what it sought would be somewhat more difficult than imagined, so extensive was the damage wrought upon Esoteric Space by the will of the mundane.
Miss Autumn was gone, as was Cart, as was the Grandeur Rust, as was that particular future. Its non-body now the equivalent of a screen, the Observer retreated inside its self...searching for a signal; a signal that proved its self readily available...if something of an antiquity to the year 31XX. A radio signal; particularly, a pirate radio signal. Not the deep-space, freighter-raiding, gun-toting, bullet-wound-having, bleeding-out-in-a-chair kind of pirate station. This was a station coming from an apartment's most sequestered room, from technology so ancient that it made the Observer feel a little sorry...and a little uneasy.
That was not there before, was it?
Miss Autumn slowly removed the hand from beneath her lip, leaving a small streak in the drying blood that seemed to coat her; eyes of an indeterminable color seeking something in the distance, for the barest of moments.
"You were talking about Pygmalion's Gallery", a voice prompted with calculated monotone, the Observer supposed/knew that it was the ship's Artificial Intelligence Assistant, "is something wrong, Miss Autumn? Aside from your curren-"
"I dunno, now shuddup," her voice was hoarse, her syllabic canter as askew as always, her accent somewhere between Old-Earth Brooklyn and O.E New Jersey, though the Observer knew it was more an act, than an accent, "I'm tellin' a story. Pyg's Gal wasn't anything big, y'know, Art? It was-"
"I have told you that my name is Ca-"
"'Cart', fine, then. Never met such an uppity machine, before."
Miss Autumn straightened her back, revealing a few wounds that glistened stark crimson against the meticulously umbral outline of her rather outlandish garb. The Observer silently contemplated how it was a nice mesh of colors, and how the frayed flesh complimented the hexagonal pattern of the bodysuit; then, even more silently thanked the Fates that she wasn't still wearing her reflective helmet...or using her voice mod. Slowly, Autumn placed a fist beneath her chin and leaned forward; as though expecting some combativeness from the AIA. When Cart didn't respond for a long thirty seconds, she settled back, crossing her arms across the wounds and letting her head fall back onto the seat.
"So, yeah, like I was sayin'...Pyg's Gal was where the Bond was forged," she cast an eye down towards the screen, prompting the Observer to note that her eyes were green, staring nigh-vacantly into the souls of whoever happened to be watching, a momentary frown forming on her face before she looked upwards toward some fleeting burst of light, then away, "You're broadcasting this, right? To everyone that can hear whatever siren song you sent out?"
"Yes, Miss Autumn," Cart was brusque, but the Observer smiled at how well the AIA was tolerating the presence of this intruder, "given the threats that your crew made-"
"They ain't my crew," she warned with a flick of the finger, "I don't claim to be the leader. We ain't got much of one, as it is. I just happened to be the first one here. Might be the last. Now lemme get on with the damn story, alright?"
"Yes, Miss Autumn."
"Now, as I was sayin'..."
The Observer would have smiled, if anyone had been there to see it. Rare though the compulsion was, it would not have to listen to get the fullness of the journey...perhaps one more time. It stood from its throne, cast amidst flickering constellations and the ragged breaths of a Collapsing Space; immediately expanding in size and dimension to form a thin dome around the entirety of its domain, taking on a prismatic cast and settling into a scene that was not the beginning of an individual story...but the first tenuous thread, that it would happen to call an adequate starting place; unfortunately it seemed that finding what it sought would be somewhat more difficult than imagined, so extensive was the damage wrought upon Esoteric Space by the will of the mundane.
Miss Autumn was gone, as was Cart, as was the Grandeur Rust, as was that particular future. Its non-body now the equivalent of a screen, the Observer retreated inside its self...searching for a signal; a signal that proved its self readily available...if something of an antiquity to the year 31XX. A radio signal; particularly, a pirate radio signal. Not the deep-space, freighter-raiding, gun-toting, bullet-wound-having, bleeding-out-in-a-chair kind of pirate station. This was a station coming from an apartment's most sequestered room, from technology so ancient that it made the Observer feel a little sorry...and a little uneasy.
That was not there before, was it?
Hey, there! It's ya girl Crumbs, trying to get something started. (hahaha! I did get something started. Here's the OOC Thread) That something is still gestating, but the concept won't leave me. The idea is pretty simple. We're going to be folk living on a Station (usually an artificial world. that's not our good fortune, though, we're going to be starting somewhere more rustic. more adequately, we're going to be starting in the poorest city on one of the more 'out of the way' Stations. this Station will be called Hati, for reference...and preemptive clarification.) that will get caught up in a series of events stemming from seeming coincidence.
Hm...that is, to say, in all; I want this to be a ludicrously 'anime' experience. Expect threats from another 'world', a lot of ambiguous phrasing, teenagers with powers (actually, funny thing, everyone has at least one power. more on that, soon.), a long journey through the winding mazes of psychological analysis, and some things that border on downright magical. I'm looking for three or four other people. People who're willing to get creative.
There's more than that, but I'm not going to get too heavy into it until I know if the hook worked.
Here, have some information!
Hati Station; Named for the wolf who pursued the Moon in Norse mythology, Hati Station is something of an antiquity compared to more modern Stations. It is hardly large enough to warrant the classification, bearing only four notable cities, and would likely not have, if it had not been one of the first created. Its founders, the Monotome family, originally opened Hati as a mining station; digging deep into the heart of the place...ripping out what valuable minerals they could and abandoning the place for two generations.
With the return of their attention, and, surprisingly, their migration, Hati underwent a century long stretch of redesign and redevelopment. Now, instead of the harsh structures of the asteroid's younger days...Hati is a tourist destination. Or, rather, it is popular for one particular destination. Though the Nebula Resort is highly expensive and reclusive, it sits just above the second most notorious of the Cardinal Cities.
As a whole, Hati is a place of divisions. That much is apparent from within East City; the massive wall that divides Nebula and the city its self almost always visible...regardless of how hard you try to ignore it.
East City; A sprawling metropolis, bustling and ever-changing. East City is, as the name implies, the easternmost Cardinal City that was founded around the original landing site of the Monotome family's army of laborers. Surprisingly, it is one of the more practical cities; nearly everything lining up perfectly to the grid-like layout. While not so sinister as South City, East City has a similar reputation; with high crime rates and a quality of living that would be laughable in most other cities.
Poverty is common in the southern reaches of the city, following a bizarre gradient as one walks farther from the Wall. Famous for its number of abandoned warehouses and poor education system. East City is the most temperate Cardinal City, in terms of weather; due to the strong monetary influence behind Nebula Resort's presence. Most of the people in this city long for a better life. Go figure.
More than likely, this is the area we're all going to be from...or at the least, the area we're going to be in at the start of all this.
Pygmalion's Gallery: A reality separate from Corporeal or Esoteric reality, considered a Decaying Space by those who are aware of its existence. To those who are not entirely keen on the Gallery's spatial nuances...it is a testing ground. A gauntlet of ever-shifting scenery and a nonsensical parody of reality's rules. One moment it can be a glass room lined with marble pillars, in another it can be a series of twisted catwalks over a yawning void.
The Gallery is inhabited by creatures called Delusions; phantasms created from various incorporeal phenomenon. The most common cause for Delusions are human beings, themselves. As humans have grown more numerous, more ambitious; so too have the Delusions. These Delusions often seem to thematically match the space they inhabit within the Gallery.
To access the Gallery is difficult without the aid of a Guide; one who is ordained by Observers or Moderators to serve as their liaisons into Corporeal Reality. Usually, Pygmalion's Gallery is sealed, a Guide watching over its locked gate until the time comes that they are instructed to seek those to undergo the trials within and form a Bond.
More to come.
With the return of their attention, and, surprisingly, their migration, Hati underwent a century long stretch of redesign and redevelopment. Now, instead of the harsh structures of the asteroid's younger days...Hati is a tourist destination. Or, rather, it is popular for one particular destination. Though the Nebula Resort is highly expensive and reclusive, it sits just above the second most notorious of the Cardinal Cities.
As a whole, Hati is a place of divisions. That much is apparent from within East City; the massive wall that divides Nebula and the city its self almost always visible...regardless of how hard you try to ignore it.
East City; A sprawling metropolis, bustling and ever-changing. East City is, as the name implies, the easternmost Cardinal City that was founded around the original landing site of the Monotome family's army of laborers. Surprisingly, it is one of the more practical cities; nearly everything lining up perfectly to the grid-like layout. While not so sinister as South City, East City has a similar reputation; with high crime rates and a quality of living that would be laughable in most other cities.
Poverty is common in the southern reaches of the city, following a bizarre gradient as one walks farther from the Wall. Famous for its number of abandoned warehouses and poor education system. East City is the most temperate Cardinal City, in terms of weather; due to the strong monetary influence behind Nebula Resort's presence. Most of the people in this city long for a better life. Go figure.
More than likely, this is the area we're all going to be from...or at the least, the area we're going to be in at the start of all this.
Pygmalion's Gallery: A reality separate from Corporeal or Esoteric reality, considered a Decaying Space by those who are aware of its existence. To those who are not entirely keen on the Gallery's spatial nuances...it is a testing ground. A gauntlet of ever-shifting scenery and a nonsensical parody of reality's rules. One moment it can be a glass room lined with marble pillars, in another it can be a series of twisted catwalks over a yawning void.
The Gallery is inhabited by creatures called Delusions; phantasms created from various incorporeal phenomenon. The most common cause for Delusions are human beings, themselves. As humans have grown more numerous, more ambitious; so too have the Delusions. These Delusions often seem to thematically match the space they inhabit within the Gallery.
To access the Gallery is difficult without the aid of a Guide; one who is ordained by Observers or Moderators to serve as their liaisons into Corporeal Reality. Usually, Pygmalion's Gallery is sealed, a Guide watching over its locked gate until the time comes that they are instructed to seek those to undergo the trials within and form a Bond.
More to come.
Resonance; A term used in Esoteric studies, commonly understood to function alongside technology to produce fantastic effects. While not commonly a visible phenomena, it has been suggested that Resonance tends to be transparent; moving ever outward in small ripples. Human beings cannot directly harness Resonance, as they are inherently unable to tap into it. This has spurred Restech (colloquial name) to become the most common commodity, an surprisingly inexpensive.
Most people accept that Resonance is simply part of their lives, much as people did in the halcyon days of Old Earth...where magic was still wielded among her peoples. Now, it is not uncommon to communicate through a Restech device...to cook with Restech...
You get the idea.
Magic; What do you expect? Magic is dead, baby! Er...kind of. The ability to use magic has dwindled in humanity, making it nothing more than a novelty; even when someone appears who can use it. I mean, after all, everyone has their Talents.
Talents; An ability that someone is born with. An ability that they can not lose. An ability that is usually within reason. Think about that.
Guide: Appointed by Moderators, or more rarely Observers, Guides are Corporeal data-entities that enforce the will of their patron. They are sapient and self-aware, but operate under Personality Restriction Protocols; ensuring their efficiency in action and adherence to their orders. They can choose any form, but often appear human; given that they are the in-between for Prime Entities and Non-Entities.
Guides have limited control over Corporeal Reality, enabling them to be fierce combatants if made into foes; but a limited access to the Esoteric. They most often function as gate-keepers or agents of 'fate', guiding events as need be. There are usually only three Guides in existence, in any given instance of a universe; and they rarely, if ever, come in contact with one another.
A Guide is necessary for the formation of a Bond, not only because of their inherent attributes...but because their sacrifice is one of the parameters to ensure that there is a small margin of error for that Bond's formation.
Bond: An Esoteric Grid formation that binds Prime Entities together by their Fate Kernels, allowing for them to bypass their inherent limitations. A Bond is a tool used by the Non-Entities to allow Prime Entities to enter Esoteric Space without the standard risk; usually to utilize them where problems exist that Moderators or Observers can not handle.
Most people accept that Resonance is simply part of their lives, much as people did in the halcyon days of Old Earth...where magic was still wielded among her peoples. Now, it is not uncommon to communicate through a Restech device...to cook with Restech...
You get the idea.
Magic; What do you expect? Magic is dead, baby! Er...kind of. The ability to use magic has dwindled in humanity, making it nothing more than a novelty; even when someone appears who can use it. I mean, after all, everyone has their Talents.
Talents; An ability that someone is born with. An ability that they can not lose. An ability that is usually within reason. Think about that.
Guide: Appointed by Moderators, or more rarely Observers, Guides are Corporeal data-entities that enforce the will of their patron. They are sapient and self-aware, but operate under Personality Restriction Protocols; ensuring their efficiency in action and adherence to their orders. They can choose any form, but often appear human; given that they are the in-between for Prime Entities and Non-Entities.
Guides have limited control over Corporeal Reality, enabling them to be fierce combatants if made into foes; but a limited access to the Esoteric. They most often function as gate-keepers or agents of 'fate', guiding events as need be. There are usually only three Guides in existence, in any given instance of a universe; and they rarely, if ever, come in contact with one another.
A Guide is necessary for the formation of a Bond, not only because of their inherent attributes...but because their sacrifice is one of the parameters to ensure that there is a small margin of error for that Bond's formation.
Bond: An Esoteric Grid formation that binds Prime Entities together by their Fate Kernels, allowing for them to bypass their inherent limitations. A Bond is a tool used by the Non-Entities to allow Prime Entities to enter Esoteric Space without the standard risk; usually to utilize them where problems exist that Moderators or Observers can not handle.
More to come.
Dutifully Signed,
Crumbs
P.S XOXO
