come_sailaway | [OPEN+CLOSED] An Endless Cycle

Entry tags:

[OPEN+CLOSED] An Endless Cycle

Who: Wayne, mostly prior CR, and a couple open slots for new friends
What: Memory share reality funk, for those that are more into the chiller end of poking brains
When: Early-Mid March
Warnings: N/A, will update as threads progress

The cracks in reality seem to gather where he passes by most frequently, usually in the highest density around his cabin, and the buffet. The colors that peek from inside are soft, pastel yellows and oranges, pinks and blues, and if one is to get close enough to them to investigate, they might hear some pretty sick guitar riffs, a result of the thing most prevalent in his mind lately, as they're being dumped into a reality very much like the man himself: soft and squishy-looking, with mild weather and a spectacular view of the surrounding ocean. You have arrived on an island chain, in the middle of a deeply blue, weirdly reflective ocean, and in the distance you can see an edifice. Everything here seems by and large pretty peaceful.

You might look down to see some changes to yourself. Perhaps not your clothes, but maybe your shape, or the texture of your skin. Do you still have the same number of limbs? Are there more? Are there less? Have you turned a color? Have you sprouted horns in any configuration? Are you now yet another Wayne? No matter how you might have ended up...

1. The Garden [Closed, for Fio and ??]
Wayne seems busy, moving back and forth from his house out to his garden. There are a few tools sitting on the ground outside the low wall, some dirty gloves over the top of it, and there are sprouts of plants already coming up in one half of the plot that he's working on. He's clearly been out here for a little while already, his preoccupation half borne of exhaustion.

A cat sits on top of the wall. It watches him moving back and forth across the plot that he's preparing for another row of vegetables. It looks smug. That's probably just its face.

Wayne pauses when he's deposited a sack that could possibly be soil, or fertilizer, or whatever this world's equivalent might be, standing straight and stretching his arms out behind him with a soft groan and a pop of the joints. His expression slackens when he spots a visitor, one hand coming up in an easygoing wave.

"Sup?"

2. The Afterlife [Closed, for Nobunaga and César]
The beach is kinda nice. If you like red water and random fish on the shore. The sand underfoot holds the shape of footprints even better than normal wet sand, and the few denizens of the realm seem largely content to keep to themselves. One fish might explain that its seen people making sand castles and how pleasing an activity it seems to be, even when the tide inevitably comes to wash them away. Down the beach, further away from the little crystal complex, Wayne is hanging out with another fish, holding idle conversation with it while he builds a sand castle himself.

Or, it would be a sand castle, if not for the buildings that he's constructed all around himself, carefully sculpted until it's become more of a small citadel. He probably shouldn't be spending as much time here as he is right now, but there's a certain reluctance that comes with the fact that if he simply goes back out there again, alone and unprepared, he will once again be reduced to goo. Not a pleasing prospect.

3. The Airship [Closed, for Security and ??]
Wayne and his crew are setting up for departure. The newly-acquired airship is spotless after having been grounded after the initial fall of Lord Gibby, Blerol's officers taking good care of it in the event that it would be necessary to deploy again. Now, after the solid done for him by Wayne and his crew, and being made more fully aware of the terrible situation presented by the return of Gibby and his cult, they're preparing to head out and gather resources, get in touch with the sages and with the Monitor, and attempt to find more information on the cult itself to be able to actually stop it permanently, since it apparently just didn't take last time.

Hopefully anyone else coming along with them has been informed of the situation. Otherwise, it's going to fall to Wayne and his crew to do the explaining. Which means going and attempting to catch one of them after they've settled in with their supplies, topped up the pneumataphores of the ship, and set a proper course. They just...have to decide what their course should actually be. There's so much to do, and not enough time to sit around and talk about it all.

4. The Concert [Closed, for Ava and ??]
It's been a while since they've had a show this raucous. Usually the people that come out to see Moonage Lobotomy are a chill bunch, but now the crowd is pressed right up against the stage, watching the Crew with an energy borne of having finally been allowed to snap out of the intense fugue state brought on by the Hylemxylem's signal. They're happy, the monstrous and humanoid alike crushing up against each other and getting absorbed in the music that has only gotten better in the last half dozen cycles.

Wayne sits on the edge of the stage when it's all over, shaking hands and getting hugs, pressed against his best friend's side while the others rest and talk with others in the audience. There's mention of new merch that will be coming out soon and, when the group starts to disperse to go and get some fresh air, Wayne has his arms out wide, looking out toward a figure he recognizes, a neighbor or perhaps a friend from the City, grinning more widely than most ever see.

"Heeeey you made it!"

5. Waynehouse [OPEN!]
It's nice out here. Quiet, most of the time. There's a breeze off the ocean, a beach where the Larvae congregate to be looked after, a field where there's almost always a group of Waynes in various stages of their training occupied with drills to keep them sharp while they prepare for the tasks that Old Wayne might send them out on, and at the top of the House, Old Wayne himself overseeing the place from his shaded perch where he'd settled in before he could no longer easily move under his own power.

Some Waynes are utterly identical, others have found their own little claims to individuality. Most have very similar names. The two that stand out the most are also those at the head of the bunch, making sure that they're all able to take care of themselves when left to their own devices. Old Wayne says they're not ready yet, and so, it falls to the toughened Wayne that had only just made it upright before the first 'xylem was erected, and a twin from the same hatching that had found her own identity and started to tailor her own clothes. The former is hanging out near the ocean cliffs with a juice box in hand and his legs hanging over the edge, watching the water and perhaps dissociating a little bit while on a break. Nearby, a larva meanders back and forth, just seeking to be close to someone else while it suns.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Watson looks down at his hands, at the odd, claylike texture to them, and it is a level of quiet body horror that he was not prepared to experience.

Fine. He's fallen into one of these cracks before. It's a sort of memory. That much is obvious. But whose memory looks like this? Who, on the ship, would need a visitor to his memory to change? How deep does the change go? Is it only his skin, or does it go further? He could back out and leave right now, but the urge to know, to follow a mystery, is too deeply a part of him. He walks along the beach, giving the larvae a wide berth, headed vaguely towards a Wayne that looks like, well, something approaching a person, by his way of thinking.

The good news is, Watson does not lose any level of sensation in spite of the obvious changes to his skin's texture. He might experience a touch of oddness to his equilibrium if his shape has otherwise changed but otherwise, he's still himself. Just...not. His curiosity is matched by those larvae that spot him, heads turning and tilting, peculiar little noises coming from them as they make to follow, though they can't move nearly as quickly as he can even on sand.

The more humanoid-looking Wayne is zoning out, eyes out on the water, though approaching footsteps do draw his attention. He lifts a hand, a silent greeting, then twists a little in place with a mild wince to draw out of his collection of Things another juice box like his own.

"Just got here?" he asks mildly, looking back out again. People were coming and going on the island more and more frequently now that it was well established. Might as well get to know some of them.

"You could say that. I think I might be a little lost."

Watson is doing his best not to stare. He's the stranger here, after all. He's the odd one. He has the self-awareness to realise that. Still, he glances at the larvae, trying to hide his unease.

"Might I join you?"

Watson, while certainly the odd one out, at least doesn't get any sort of peculiar look from anyone outside of the larva that only regard him as a curiosity like any stranger would. The one sticking near Wayne is approaching cautiously, but Wayne doesn't pay it any mind.

"Yeah, it's a little confusing when you first land, don't worry about it." He gestures to the empty space at his side; there's plenty of cliff to go around and if the new guy wants to hang out with him, that's pretty cool too. It comes with a free drink at least. "Lemme know if you need help. We're expanding into the caves and we gotta figure out the hylethem situation soon before we start getting poolmen."

Well, as weird as all this is, he can't be rude. Watson sits down, and he even picks up the juice. Though he doesn't drink it. He only holds it to be polite. He's not assuming anything around here isn't poison to him.

He also didn't understand several of the nouns in this sentence.

"And you, ah, wouldn't want poolmen?"

Honestly, he's not being unreasonable to feel that way when he's never met Wayne, let alone anyone like him. Wayne, to his credit, doesn't really seem to mind either way that Watson isn't drinking the juice. Sometimes you wanna hold onto it for later. He knows he's gotten into that habit after what happened before he got here.

He continues, as if nothing he's said is particularly strange. "Yeah, they get in the way, they're a pain to get rid of, and they leave weird ooze around." As if they're simple pests.

"Ah," says Watson, as though this makes sense to him. "Yes. Of course."

Part of him is concerned about the welfare of something called poolmen, but on the other hand... well, he's been on a spooky murderboat for almost a year, and there are things he's learned to not make assumptions about.

"It does sound like you have your work cut out for you. Still, it's a lovely place."

At least the nodding along as if he understands means that he can learn more about the world at large. Maybe.

"Thanks man, we try." Wayne falls silent for a few moments, looking out over the water and finishing his juice, then crumpling the box to be tossed when he gets back to the House. He straightens his posture up a bit at least, groaning at the crunching along his spine. He's been out here for a while, it seems, just sort of watching the horizon.

"You wanna get set up in the house? There's temp quarters 'til you figure out where you actually wanna be on the island."

"That's very hospitable of you."

That ought to teach him to judge by appearances. Watson stands as well, briefly brushing himself off out of habit. He doesn't know how long he'll be here -- but there's no reason to be rude. "I may not end up staying long, but if you have a place to spare, I would greatly appreciate it."

Wayne offers a hand to help him to his feet. "Hey man, we don't mind letting someone crash on the couch for a while. Dedusmuln- y'know, that big fancy lecturer up at the college in New Muldul? They were doing the same thing for a while after the 'xylem."

He leads the way back toward the main structure of the house, giving casual directions here and there, from the path down to the beach to where the custodians were watching several of the smaller larvae, up to the training field where Watson would see about a dozen more people that look much like Wayne doing practice drills or other exercises. The caves are also pointed out, with voices coming from deeper down in where construction was being done.

The house proper is actually quite nice, if a bit cluttered as stray furniture hasn't quite been arranged yet, another few Waynes hanging out to watch TV perched on and around a sofa. They talk amongst themselves, paying Wayne and the new person following him no mind.

"You need anything at all, you talk to me, or Decres. We can make sure you're good for the stay here, and get you to the warp pool when you need to head out. What do we call you, anyway?" He's sort of taking it for granted that the guy knows he's a Wayne.

Oh. This place has colleges. That's very encouraging, but he has to wonder what campus looks like in a place like this. That's... possibly not very fair of him, considering how hospitable Wayne is being.

"Watson," he says. Single names seem to be the done thing, so he can work with that. "I'm Watson. I don't think I caught your name?"

Is it going to be as hard to pronounce as "Dedusmuln"? He hopes not.

"Watson," he repeats, nodding and gesturing toward a set of stairs leading up to where several rooms and assorted furniture are arranged. "Good to meet you, man. Chosen name's Ingmoon but that's mostly for me. We're all just Wayne, y'know?"

The room that he leads Watson to is tidy, all rounded edges and soft angles, a bed prepared, a TV stand with no TV, a desk, and a mirror. Wayne leans his shoulder against the doorframe, offering an easy sort of tilt of a smile. "Make yourself at home, huh? Food's whatever you want outta the fridge if you're hungry. If you really want somethin' to do you can talk with Old Wayne, he might have a job for you so you're not bored. Otherwise, I can answer whatever you want."

Ingmoon. Wayne... Ingmoon. Watson attempts to casually brush his hand over his moustache to hide his smile, because laughing at someone's name is very rude, but also... pun!

But he catches his reflection in the mirror, and startles a little before leaning in. His face has changed -- no wonder no one's found him strange. His head is maybe not quite the extreme crescent that Wayne's is, but it still does seem to be mostly horns.

At least his moustache is still there.

Trying to hide (badly) that he isn't shaken by this, he turns away from the mirror. "And where would I find, ah, Old Wayne?"

Even if Watson hasn't become exactly the same as the rest of the island's bulk of inhabitants, he does fit right in, and Wayne hasn't even remotely questioned it beyond trying to be as accommodating as possible. The startle is odd though, and Wayne pushes off from the wall to take a step forward, in case something actually is wrong. He stops when Watson turns back to him though, and points a thumb back down the hall the way they came.

"He's just down through here," he explains, and turns to go that way, waving for Watson to join him in the short walk up to a final set of stairs and out onto a plateau of soft earth, pale and somewhat spongy underfoot, up to where a massive umbrella is poked into the ground to shade a massive, frankly alien version of the comparatively normal-looking person offering the tour. It regards them both with an air of wizened curiosity.

Wayne steps forward, and greets the figure with a simple "yo."

Perhaps Watson can be forgiven for a fleeting thought that Old Wayne is going to eat him. He has not yet heard what happens if he dies in someone's memory, and frankly, "wandered into someone's memory and was eaten by a large, slightly eldritch thing" is going to be an embarrassing entry on his list of "times he has died."

His mouth has gone dry. He swallows, and summons up his courage.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Watson, and I must thank you for the hospitality that has been extended to me here."

Wayne stands back, hands in his pockets, watching Watson approaching the island's overseer as the larger figure bends, neck extending...and then continuing to extend, the motion ponderous. Beneath the folds of dark fabric that cloak Old Wayne's body, multiple limbs shuffle and support his weight in such a way that he can bring himself down to Watson's level He seems greatly intimidated looking up at Old Wayne after all, so coming down to his level only seems polite.

"The pleasure is ours. With peace, there is opportunity here. Take advantage of that for the time that you stay," he advises, his voice a much deeper, more sonorous version of the Wayne's at his side. He lifts back up, one hand emerging to draw a Gesture in the air, a squiggle that pings like someone plucking a guitar string lightly, something to perhaps ease the trepidation that he can feel coming off of Watson as he stands there. Like the removal of a status effect. "Perhaps one of our own may accompany you to the city when you've rested. Best not to get lost in a new place, you understand."

Oh, the giant unholy creature is friendly. That's... that's nice. Somehow, somehow he manages to not step back as Old Wayne shuffles himself down to look at him from less of a height, and... okay, he really needs to work on his assumptions.

Was that difficult, for Old Wayne to shift down like that? Should he appreciate that attempt?

The Gesture is hard for him to parse. A blessing, a greeting, he doesn't know.

"I am, I admit, very far from home," Watson says. "I don't think I do want to get lost. I'll appreciate any help you care to offer."

At least it doesn't seem terribly laborious, even if the motion is likely much more complicated beneath the shroud over his body. Limbs shuffle and settle, and the tail of Old Wayne curls around his body much like a cat's might as it settles in to sit.

"When you decide you want to be on your way, rest assured that you won't need to do so alone."

He seems pleased, for all that his face isn't the most expressive, the multitude of eyes narrowed as if to convey a smile that doesn't quite show outwardly with the peculiar shape of his face. The Wayne escorting Watson around nudges his elbow gently, giving him a thumbs-up when he has his attention.

"Don't worry dude, we've got your back."

"You are... very kind, thank you. I appreciate it."

He's becoming slowly accustomed, he thinks, after the initial shock. And maybe there's something familiar between the larvae on the beach and the unearthly form of Old Wayne, which is something to think about.

Watson gives a polite little bow, and turns to gives Wayne, at his elbow, a faint smile.

"I don't wish to be any trouble. You have a lovely home here."

"It'll be even better when we're all set up." He might actually be a little bit house-proud, considering the amount of work that he put in to try and get it in order at least for the rest of the Waynes his size.

With the bow, Old Wayne returns it with a nod of his head, then returns the thumbs-up gesture with two huge hands.

"Don't worry dude, you're gonna do fine. When we get you to the college I'll introduce you to Dedusmuln."

"I would like that, thank you."

Watson, finding that he has survived this experience, and also quietly chiding himself for his doubts, lets out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "I'm curious to see the college, but... in good time, of course."

Probably he will fall out of this memory before then. Such is life.

With Old Wayne settled and a plan for after Watson has had the chance to rest, the smaller Wayne nods back inside. They'd be able to find the man something to eat and let him rest before they set out for the city. At least the trip isn't long.

"Yeah, first take a load off and we can send word ahead and then, hey, cool academic stuff awaits!" He beams, as much as he can ever really smile brightly without it starting to look uncanny, and he gives Watson another thumbs-up before leading the way back inside. The Waynes around the couch have all headed outside as far as he can hear from the quiet downstairs, so that would mean Watson, for the time being would have the run of the house while they talked about getting over to New Muldul, and what he might expect there. Where different things are in the city that he might want to check out including a cafe that he knows makes a great cup of what on Earth might be referred to as an Americano. Between the walkable, terraced nature of the city, the generally friendly atmosphere, and the fact that he has friends there, Wayne is sure that Watson will do quite well there.

The memory will, unfortunately, start to spool out as Watson is left to his own devices and Wayne goes about his duties. Wherever he has settled in Waynehouse, he'll end up somewhere equivalent on the boat, perhaps on the couch in his cabin.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN+CLOSED] An Endless Cycle

Waynehouse

Re: Waynehouse

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject