Palace Game 6/3

[fujimaru]

The Dreamer In The Grand Temple
Humanity Foundation Value: ????

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

Comments

[eggstinction]

[looking around in confusion and then alarm, shrugging all six of his shoulders as if to shake off the weight. he knows the pressure of his own shell, but that was something different.]

What happened here?

[going to the rubble first, picking through to see if there's anything that can't be recovered from them.]

[fujimaru]

Assuming he goes to the third door, he can see there is the flash of something bright red under the rubble--not blood, but the petals of a small flower, visible under a chunk of stone.

[eggstinction]

[:o

carefully moving the stone aside to pick it up]

[fujimaru]

It's a red poppy in full bloom, somehow unbruised and uncrushed despite being buried amidst the broken pieces.

This, too, triggers a memory:

You see a young woman, wreathed in flames, weeping beside the giant, broken body of her lover. Her grief is something older and more piercing than you can understand, the immortal mourning for a mortal. Regret is the weight of millenia, born down upon her shoulders, an emptiness where love once existed and has been taken away.

[eggstinction]

[Flinches and clutches the flower to him, caging it behind his full set of claws.]

Oh—

[fujimaru]

As the memory fades out, though, there is the sense of something like--hope? Something fleeting, but something fonder, the image of the same woman standing next to the same man(?) (he's not exactly human-shaped), laughing under a bright blue sky.

And then it's just a flower in his hands.

[eggstinction]

She got him back?

[A little jealous... But that's good. That's better. Slowly unclenches his claws and takes a moment to tuck the flower safely into a fold of his seal pelt before trying the door.]

[fujimaru]

It's a heavy, ornate door, carved with faded hanzi characters. After a short attempt, it seems to catch on something on the other side that is too heavy even for him to push through.

[eggstinction]

[hm? leans over to peek through the crack and stick as much of his arm through as he can, feeling around to see what's blocked it.]

[fujimaru]

He can't feel anything, oddly enough, and for a second, nothing happens.

And then, slowly, he can feel that arm begin to dissolve. It's an oddly painless sensation? If he's watching, he can see that it's mostly like his fingers are fading into glittering particles, blowing away in some unseen wind. There's no blood, no exposed muscle or bone... despite the effect, it's more like someone has just taken a giant eraser to him and is slowly scrubbing the existence of his hand away.

[eggstinction]

[Blinks at it, watching his hand dissolve for a confused second before pulling his arm back. He's not alarmed (yet?) and shakes his wrist, trying to grow the missing part of his hand back.]

Glitter?

[fujimaru]

The hand is just gone for the moment. He can grow it back, with some effort, but it's a strange feeling--briefly like trying to shoehorn something into existence that Should Not Be. It's just a matter of exerting his assertion of what truly exists over the effect of whatever is behind the door.

[eggstinction]

[His hand grows back like a weird sandcastle timelapse, forming itself out of salt and then polishing into a normal flesh-and-scales hand.]

Ow.

[SHUTS that door and goes to try the next door, but he's keeping his hands to himself this time. no peeking bodyparts into whatever's back there again.]

[fujimaru]

The door he approaches next appears to be Scandinavian in appearance. Atop the rubble is a large violet gem, cracked nearly in half; it's just barely one single piece still.

[eggstinction]

[bracing himself for another memory and reaching out to scoop the gem up in two hands]

[fujimaru]

You see a young woman, one hand pressed to her eye. She looks so lonely, watching someone that you know she is too afraid to speak to, strangled in the expectations of her role. Regret is a sharp pain in one eye, the scent of water and flowers as she sinks below the surface.

This one, unfortunately, does not have anything positive or hopeful as it fades.

[eggstinction]

[Sighs and folds the gem into his pelt with the flower.]

[Going to the first door next and then to the fourth door to see if they have tokens too, still picking his way carefully around the rubble. don't want to step on any statue bits.]

[fujimaru]

What he finds at the first door is a wolf's fang, bone-white and gleaming under the mess--young man, looking so, so tired. You want so much to reach out to him, when it looks like a strong breeze might knock him right over, but you know that he will certainly reject it. Regret is a knife in the back, a wolf's lonely howl in the distance--

and the fourth door has a folded handkerchief, a lipstick kiss mark in the corner: a man laughing cheerfully, seated across a campfire from you, exuding a warmth that you feel has to be genuine. Regret is your own loneliness, the greater understanding of a camaraderie and team you could have had, but has been taken from you.

[eggstinction]

Vicious would wear something like that...

[Good style, mystery man. Taking the gemstone out and tying it into the handkerchief to protect its crack, then folding all the items into his pelt.

[Going to the fifth door and tapping on its symbol, glancing at the statue next to it.]

They are lost, so who are these?

[fujimaru]

When he taps on the door, he hears, as clearly as if she were standing next to him, the sound of Da Vinci from Sphinx. She appears to be in lecture mode:

"Kirschtaria Wodime. The chairman of the Animusphere-controlled Astromancy Department, one of the Clock Tower's twelve departments of study, and the official Team A leader. He's the head of the exceptionally distinguished Wodime family, whose name and magical circuits have both been around for thousands of years.

He's also Marisbury's top pupil, and was rumored to be a better heir to the Lordship than Olga Marie.

He was expected to forge a contract with a Lancer. In terms of overall magecraft capability, he was head and shoulders above the rest."

[eggstinction]

[jumps at the sudden voice]

...Congratulations to him? On his accomplishments??

[fujimaru]

When he looks, there is no one there. It's just him, the four broken statues, and the three intact.

The statue for the fifth door is a soldier holding a lance, their feet braced in an aggressive sort of pose.

[eggstinction]

And thank you for the explanation.

[Thanks the air anyways. Just in case!

Eyes the soldier, then goes to wiggle their lance. Is it fixed in place?]

[fujimaru]

It is, though as he fiddles with it, the statue itself abruptly moves, trying to take a jab at him. The angle is bad, and he's too close for the head to actually graze him, but it's not for lack of trying.

[eggstinction]

[Chatters and backs up quickly, putting his hands up!]

Nevermind, nevermind!