january 2020. welcome to the void.

[modblob]

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Seventh Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of January 2020
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. champagne supernova.

Normally, the changes in the sky are subtle, happening between glances or over the course of days.

That's not the case now, when the bright sky with its three suns is wiped away in an explosion of blue light, right at sunrise on the morning of January 1st. The light pulses across the sky in uneven blazes, sending out lattices of what might be lightning or something worse. There's no moon. No brightness. Just this lightning-storm brilliance in space, shedding little light on the world below.

And the suns don't come back on. As the day wears on, the supernova brightness in the sky starts to fade out and no new light appears. The sky is static and black, with no stars, no moons, no suns. The mild rolling blackouts that started with the opening of the relaxation room intensify with the sudden loss of solar power, as the backup systems try to compensate for the increased use of power.

For a moment, power goes out in Anchor entirely, leaving the place plunged into darkness.

The darkness doesn't last. Thanks to those generators everyone worked so hard to sort out, the backup systems struggle back to life, keeping the lights on and the bar, kitchen, and agricultural supports open, but there are some things that the limited power just can't cover.

b. tower of babelfish.

The first, and perhaps the most noticeable system to start failing, are the auto-translation programs. While not affecting every area in Anchor equally, communication between those who speak different languages is going to be a lot more difficult. The effects are spotty, coming and going, sometimes completely failing, leaving only people's naturally-spoken languages available. Sometimes it just struggles, making conversations sound a lot more like babelfish translations than recognizable speech. People themselves seem to be affected differently by the translation struggles, depending on who and where they are. There's no rhyme or reason to when and how it fails. But the problem persists through most of the month.

c. the hidden passage.

The second system failure is harder to spot.

At the end of what seemed to be a maintenance hallway, a set of doors have appeared from behind what used to be a shielded hologram of a dead end. The doors stick out from their surroundings: thick metal, barred heavily from the outside. A clear attempt to keep something locked away inside, not to keep people from entering.

For those adventurous enough, or foolish enough, to wrestle the locks open, a problem will reveal itself. A short flight of stairs, leading down into an area flooded by murky water. It's hard to see more than branching halls down below.

Those who choose to brave the water will find a hallway lined with bulkheads and sealed doorways, all guarding rooms that could be accessed with the right combination of smarts and brute force. It's the question of what would be ruined by the water if the doors are opened that might give people pause. What kind of secrets could be wiped out or destroyed if the doors are forced and the water passes through the bulkheads? Can the water be drained? How?

But there is one room open, or mostly open, where the bulkhead doors didn't quite manage to seal when the area flooded. It'll be a squeeze, for bigger characters, but the flooded room beyond contains artifacts preserved behind glass - strange medallions, strings of glowing beads, broken sceptres, arrows fletched with feathers from creatures no one has ever seen before.

Only one object isn't sealed away. It's a handful of small orbs, with shifting colors, held in place by a shield array that still seems to function, for the most part. They can be touched, can even be removed from the stand with the right know-how or a willingness to smash stuff.

But once an orb is touched, the colors start to spin more rapidly. The more it's handled, the brighter and faster the colors shift. Whether it takes hold immediately or not is up to you, but those who handled the orb will find the bright colors start to glow under the surface of their skin, in the shape of veins, glowing bright for a few minutes before fading. And those people bring a different kind of contagion back with them to the surface. Memory loss, communicated from one person to the next via contact. It can be partial or complete, or not happen to your character at all - they can be an unwitting "carrier" of the effects, passing it on without experiencing the losses themselves. The loss can last from hours to weeks, with carriers being "infected" for the duration of that time.

It also leaves behind magical traces, ones that don't fade after memories return. The cleverest might start to wonder if it wasn't a kind of inoculation, though against what, it remains to be seen.

Navigation.

Comments

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle had expected more of a fuss, denial or refusal or even polite indignance. Instead, Ben is accepting of his criticism, even insists he's working on it.

And then he says he'd like to get to know Carlisle, and the clergyman isn't sure how to take that. Back home, most people knew him because of his lineage, his affliction, or his position at the church, but they did not know him; those who know him in Anchor have spoken to him at length and know what he has revealed through conversation, but it wasn't intentional so much as the result of discussion. Qubit knows him, but that's because Qubit is trying to help him.

Maybe Qubit was right, and that Ben wants to help him, too. Some people are just altruistic like that. His uncle Boris certainly was.]

What is it you wish to know?

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben doesn't have a set of questions he wants to ask Carlisle prepared, because of course he doesn't. He didn't anticipate any of this happening, and the fact is that he still only has a few month's practice at getting to know people, too.

Still, he takes a moment to quietly think about his answer to that question. He isn't going to just ask some conventional, shallow questions. That might fill in some context, but it won't really help him and Carlisle get to know one another. And considering they've already seen one another at their worst (?), it seems silly to start with something like his favorite color or how old he is.

So Ben mulls over their past encounters and finally settles on quietly asking: ]

Why did you become a healer and - how long have you been one? Like is it a... job, in your world, or something people are born doing?

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle wrings his fingers, conflicted: he loves his work and was good at it, proud of it, yet the very thought he might not be able to be the healer he once was is torment. Still, he gave Ben the opportunity to ask anything, and he ought to answer. He does his best to remain impassive, stifling down any injury in his voice as he explains.]

I have been a healer in the service of my goddess since I was a lad. They are uncommon where I come from, and ones with the aptitude I have are quite rare. I felt it was my calling in life, a way to prove myself worthy of living.

[And that might by one reason he struggles to accept his obvious problem with it now.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben had been hoping for a reaction that was somewhat different than this, but it's understandable. Qubit had said something about Carlisle having a hard time adjusting to how his healing powers had changed, and that indicated it was a pretty central part of Carlisle's identity. Solemn, Ben listens without interruption, waiting for Carlisle to finish rather than immediately jumping to asking clarifying questions. From the sound of it, aptitude for healing was just something Carlisle had been born with, but his pursuit of it was deliberate.

Deliberate, and fueled by more than just a genuine, happy passion. A way to prove myself worthy of living. That hits very close to home, for Ben. He might never have put it in those exact words, but he had felt that way, when he thought about his mother dying, about his awful powers, how he had to use them for good, or he was just a monster without any purpose. ]

I didn't realize it was a religious thing. Or that... it meant so much to you.

[ That knowledge wouldn't have changed Ben's willingness to try to convince Kieran to let Carlisle heal him, if he didn't want to, and if Carlisle's powers were still compromised. But perhaps... he would have been more delicate about it.

Or perhaps not. It had all been so near, then, and Ben knows he doesn't always react well to stress and perceived danger.

Quietly, he replies: ]

I've never had a calling, I don't think. I'm a little jealous. And that- [ A very brief pause as Ben navigates the difficulty of picking a tense, present or past, and decides to avoid that quagmire entirely. ] -that your powers let you heal. Mine are only good for... well, you saw.

[ Carlisle had been out of it, to say the least, but there's no way he could have entirely missed Ben's powers. Them, and the way they ripped through those abominations. How much agony he and Carlisle had both been in, that whole time. ]

Do they have doctors and hospitals, too, in your world, since it's not very common?

[abheirrant]

Doctors and physicians, yes. Traditional healing is alive and well, a necessity in more remote areas. Healers like myself need to be trained by them to recognize the internal structure of the body, its organs, and how they interact so we may better determine how to mend wounds. Or, in Mister Kieran's case, rebuild what is missing entirely.

[He's not ignoring the fact that Ben's powers are destructive in nature by comparison, nor how such abilities still have value; he'll come back to that, as it is something he wants to ask about himself, since they're getting to know one another.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Ben is quiet, his face not giving away the surprise that he feels learning that Carlisle had trained with doctors to learn about anatomy, in order to be able to heal. It no doubt says more about him than it does about Carlisle, that he'd just assumed magical healing was all instinct, all feelings and guesswork. He hadn't realized that actual study had been involved, which really does underline Carlisle's point about not making judgments without knowing someone at all.

And, of course, Ben had been taught about anatomy, as well. Reginald made sure all the kids at the anatomy knew the human body inside and out. But not to heal.

Ben is sitting close enough to the locked door that he can reach up, running his hand along the edge of it, though of course, it shows no sign of budging. Who knows how long the power will be out... ]

I can't remember if I thanked you or not. At the time or - when we texted.

[ The mention of Kieran brings back that familiar twisting guilt in Ben's stomach, and he struggles with it, the way he's gotten used to. But it occurs to him that, as shameful and private as all this feels to him, maybe explaining, just a little, will give Carlisle some insight into why he had reacted so intensely, when last they spoke.

So, words halting, Ben confesses: ]

I said I would keep Kieran safe. But I couldn't. He got hurt anyway, and I was too late to stop it. That's why... I'm a little overprotective. [ A pause, and Ben shrugs, admits: ] A lot overprotective.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle can't remember if Ben thanked him, either, but he remembers well enough what it's like to have someone and something he wanted to protect -- and the misery that comes with failing them. He can't say he wouldn't do the same thing were he given the chance with Bear Den, choosing to be overprotective rather than risking his word, his pride, their safety. It's not exactly the same, but it's enough that Carlisle can commiserate, understand better why Ben reacted the way he did to the suggestion of convincing Kieran to let his eyes be fully mended.]

Guilt will devour you whole if you allow it. It will poison you, convince you that nothing you've ever done or will do is good enough.

[That's advice he could stand to take himself, and he knows it.]

[benhargreeves]

[ Those words hit hard enough that Ben actually looks up, meets Carlisle's eyes, face full of surprise and... recognition. Carlisle gets it. And Ben has spoken to enough people who don't to know that that kind of understanding most often comes from personal familiarity. Carlisle talks about guilt like someone who has really, truly felt it. ]

Yeah.

[ Swallowing, Ben gives a barely-there shrug. Of course, it's selfish in a way, feeling guilty over this. What else could he have done? Why is he heaping all this grief on his own shoulders when he had done his best? When he had arrived in time to save Kieran's life, at least? ]

But... I don't know how to forgive myself.

[ It sounds silly, put in plain language like that. Still, it is the truth. ]

Not yet, anyway. But I'm trying to learn.

[ Ben knows it is possible to make progress. He's come a long way, since he was first brought to this place. Only Klaus and Cole really know how much, at this point. There is still a long way to go, but he at least has hope that change can happen. ]