Event || A History of Light and Darkness

[eternitymods]

Who: Brave Explorers and/or Those Poor Souls Being Dragged Along by Friends
When: Oct 15-30th
Where: Thilmit Border Post, inside the Old Heranean Doll Museum
What: The Heroes of Light received a strange letter, and are now being asked to investigate the strange occurrences at the old doll museum.
Warnings/Notes: OOC Post Warnings for Spookiness, Creepy Dolls. Post toplevels for each group. Please post warnings as needed for memory fragments and exploration. For random numbers, use the dice functions on Plurk or Discord.



The Old Heranean Doll Museum is a small building, but somehow the dark, dusty windows and poorly maintained roof give it a menacing feel as you approach. The sign says, "OPEN"...although, as you approached, you think it might have been turned to "CLOSED".

The door creaks as it swings open, though there is no one from the museum to greet you as you enter. A cold breeze blows in behind you, sapping any lingering warmth in the room. The building is dark, and cobwebs are starting to form in the corners of the lobby and on the velvet rope stanchions that guide the flow of traffic in and out. Out of a shadowy corner, a large centipede skitters across the floor and into a crack low on the wall.

At the reception desk, one of the antique dolls sits, unmoving, unblinking. That goes without saying. Its eyes do not follow you as you enter.... The hairs prickling up on the back of your neck are just coincidence, that's all.

There is another doll perched on the wooden brochure display stand near the door. It's strange that the curator leaves the display pieces out where visitors can touch them....

As you enter, you hear something whistling through the air toward you a moment before it makes a impact. A tiny pebble, too small to do any damage other than a brief stinging. During this moment of distraction, the door slams and locks.

When you look at the spots where the dolls were perched a moment ago, there is now just empty space. There is movement in the shadows, and the nearly imperceptible sound of tiny shapes creeping around.

As you move past the lobby into the exhibits, a sign above the entryway declares:

Welcome to the Old Heranean Doll Museum. We hope you enjoy our historic Heroes of Light displays.

Comments

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja stops. "Wait. Nobody move. "It's a faint sensation, a tingling in the air, a smell like ozone and burning tin- magic building for something, but what...

"... I think we may have sprung a trap. Why on earth would such a thing be in a museum, of all places? It's something major, that much I can tell. Be prepared for anything."

[einspine]

Papyrus was going to move. At least a little. Fortunately, Kuja's comment freezes him mid-step. His shoulders jump up. His teeth chatter- just a little!

"WELL! WE'LL JUST HAVE TO... USE THE POWER OF TEAMWORK? STAND STRONG IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY!"

He's already drawn his Gunblade, just in case. Better safe than sorry, and it's a good thing he's taken a more offensive job as his active for now. But just what is coming for them? Is it really that bad?

Hopefully it's just a fluke.

[tsukinohiganbana]

Yotsuyu has her tome at the ready as she carefully surveyed the room. ‘Teamwork’ wasn’t something she much cared for, but given her current situation, she would need to trust her comrades.

“We already have an answer, I believe. If these dolls truly are so dreadfully expensive, that alone is reason enough.”

Or spirits. But she wasn’t going to put much stock into that, yet.

Yotsuyu raised a gloved hand to her mouth, shielding herself from the gas.

“Quick! We don’t know what this is, so we prepare for the worst. Surely one of you has a protection spell!”

[songbird_slayer]

"Why yes, certainly." Yep, let's just grab the iMog and change Asterisk. Why not become a White Mage and get a Protect going, then figure out what's really ticking away at the heart of this compound...

But the display cases began to ooze an odd cloud filled with stars, oscillating colors... it was almost like a Dream Width nebula from months ago. As it crept over the floors, grass had begun to grow, stone had begun to form, mixed and chopped sections of familiar rooms. The nebula began to creep from floor to ceiling, shifting the remainder of the room. It pushed the walls out, creating pieces of different worlds.

"Pret-ty sure I can't magic my way out of this one... not without my portals, anyway. Damn it."

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja is instantly ready to start flinging spells if something bad happens here, but the instant that nebula starts to form he's stepping backward, alarmed- but it's likely too late, whispers and voices and flashes of places he'd been and places he'd not. The streets of Alexandria, the endless blue of Terra, a ballroom in Treno, Burmecia in ruins-

"What... Oh, don't tell me-"

Voices, fragmented sentences.
"It's as though the rain itself is blessing-"
"Fly home, little canary, home to your-"
"-let the world exist without me-"
"-deserve to live after what I've-"
"-here, Bahamut. Play a requiem for her-"
"What do you mean, 'replace me'?"

[einspine]

This is.... strange. Very strange. What are these places? Who are these voices? Papyrus glances around, frowning and fidgeting as he tries to process it all.

It's not too unfamiliar of a sensation. He's seen Dream Width memories before. But that's the Dream Width. This is a museum. So why? How?

Unsure of what else to do, he turns to Kuja.

"ARE YOU OKAY? ...AND DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT EXACLTY'S GOING ON HERE?"

What does it mean? And if it is a memory, whose is it?

[tsukinohiganbana]

Yotsuyu can hear the voices, and it conjures up a memory of something she'd rather forget. Not the Dream Width, mind you, although she'd also choose to forget that if given the chance.

She hacks out a cough, looking around for the source of the voices. This feels bad. This feels very bad.

"Somebody here is responsible for this. And I demand to know who!"

As much as it sounds like it, it's not actually addressed to her companions, but rather to the room itself. Something is conjuring these voices.

[songbird_slayer]

'Replace me'... she cast a glance to Kuja, concerned, but had a sinking feeling she realized what it was that was going on.

"The museum itself is enchanted. It wishes to trap if not break those within, rather typical of a bewitched building. We simply need to... move on, somehow."

Which leaves her giving Kuja's shoulder a pat.

"I think I heard you there, if briefly. Are these places from your world?" She could confess to being curious about him, but not when it came to his private memories. Though if anyone knew their way through, it would be him right now.

[acapriciousreaper]

"Some of them, yes. But why-" the last thought echoes, blue light and black stone filling the world-
Glass cylinders, rising to the ceiling, faintly lit. A small, unadorned enclosure.

An old man, bearded white, clad in black armor and cape, examining a blonde-haired, tailed infant with a dispassionate air. Kuja, dressed more conservatively than perhaps anyone has yet seen him, all black robes, tail twitching, looking quite annoyed.
"You brought me all this way to show me the latest batch? This one's alive, I see." He prods the child with a fingertip, none too gently.
"No. This one is different. He is... unique."

Kuja's eyes widen, watching the little drama unfold. This is... this is bad. "Why is this happening here? Why now? Why..."

[einspine]

"KUJA!" Papyrus remembers their discussion from before. How he was created. A genome? A tool? Very disdainful of his origins. But hearing the memories, seeing this all before his eyes...

It draws the skeleton closer. He's not gonna break personal boundaries- there's no telling if Kuja would appreciate a supportive hand on the shoulder, but at the same time...

"I CAN'T SAY I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT'S GOING ON RIGHT NOW, BUT... YOU'RE UNIQUE TOO! IN A GOOD WAY. AND I THINK YOUR TIME HERE'S PROVEN THAT YOU AREN'T JUST SOMEBODY'S PUPPET!"

Because he said stuff about vessels. Being made for someone else's goal.

Sure, maybe this isn't the place to blurt it all out, but... Somebody has to cheer him up! Even if it's still. Worrisome. Dark. Ominous, even.

[tsukinohiganbana]

Yotsuyu doesn't understand what is going on here, nor does she care. She is not a supportive person, and the last thing she wants is to develop "camaraderie" with these people. However, there is a part of her, a very small part, that can relate to what Kuja is going through.

Kuposagi looks over to her master. Historically, Yotsuyu hasn't made situations like this better, and she looks like she's about to speak.

"Bah! Are you really so stupid that you're going to let these voices dictate what you do? So what if there are others like you? If they try to replace you, cut them down. If they try to control you, wait for the opportune moment to strike back. You are nobody's puppet unless you let it be so."

After taking a long huff from her pipe, Yotsuyu crosses her arms. This idiocy is beginning to annoy her.

[songbird_slayer]

"They're both right. This trick may be trying to sow distrust in all of us, or drag us into despair. Whatever happened in the past is just that: In the past. I saw great potential in you when you get foot in the Lady of Bliss, and that won't be changing no matter what this place shows me. Alright?"

She dusted off her vest, and took the initiative in winding her arms around one of Kuja's.

"One step at a time. ...I'm so sorry this is happening."

[acapriciousreaper]

Kuja snorts. "If this place is trying to destabilize me, it's doing a poor job of it. This is hardly the most traumatic memory it could have dug up."

"Replace me? What do you mean, replace me?"
"The fault is mine. Flaws in your design. But no prototype is perfect. Failure you may be, but you have contributed much." Garland doesn't even look at him when he says it, so casually ripping his heart out. He'd performed his role faithfully, hadn't he?
"Would it not behoove you to have us work in tandem, Garland? Surely two 'angels of death' could disrupt Gaia's cycle more efficiently than one-"
"No. I need a weapon, Kuja, not a schemer constantly working to supplant me. I will not deny that you have been useful, but you will be phased out once testing-"

The dream scatters like smoke in the wind, as Kuja walks forward, sighing. "I appreciate it, Madhuri. How do we get out of this, there must surely be some trigger or something-"

The smoke reforms, a new memory surfacing. A blue world, barren but beautiful in its deathlike state, a genome cloaked in white as an infant screams in one arm. "That should have distracted him, at least. Replace me, as though he could- I ought to drop you in the Treno slums, you'd be dead by morning- will you cease that noise this instant!" The gate to Gaia is adjusted, targets spinning by, he doesn't care where- "Ah, Lindblum. The Festival does start today, doesn't it? Perhaps you'll be eaten by a Mu, or some peasant will take pity on you." The child is thrown into the center of the runes- and in a column of light is gone before it even hits the ground. "Certainly not my-" Disrupted, again, this time by a fire spell.

Kuja sneers. "I am becoming quite annoyed with this museum, and I've scarely been here five minutes. I cast my vote for burning the place to the ground as soon as we manage-"

Kuja's words die in his throat. More smoke, more fragments. The Noble sips wine and laughs with faceless aristocrats, gilded robes and expensive jewels glittering by the light of a chandelier. The Merchant, showing his Black Mages to a blue-skinned woman, greedy eyes giddy with excitement as they shoot fire and ice from their hands. The Reaper, stepping over the charred corpse of a Burmecian soldier as Black Mages march in unison around him, torching homes, leaving none alive. The Ruler, hair and feathers red as blood as he kicks Garland off a cliff, face twisted with unbridled, wild-eyed, psychotic glee, a blonde-haired young man with a tail bleeding behind him. Each second that passes makes him seem less confident, each attempt to stop the fragments makes more appear.

The Doll, laughing. The Doll, sobbing. The Doll, face deadpan as he rises into the air. The Doll, raining azure fire, burning Terra to ash out of misery and spite. All flashes, mere seconds in passing, but undeniably- there.

In the end... it's the arm winding gently around his own that drags him out of it. The maelstrom winds slowly down, and Kuja steadies slightly, looking around... "Ah. I think I know the exit."

He feels, not for the first time, the sensation of eyes on the back of his head, watching his every move. "What would Zidane do," he mutters, to himself.

The Doll, exhausted, bleeding, but triumphant, finally collapsing in front of his enemies, too weak to carry on...
Kuja, helplessly watching Zidane somehow find the will to keep going, to fight off the last enemy, the Eidolon of Entropy itself, one final, insurmountable foe. Kuja, last of his Trance expended. He has a sliver of magic left. He could walk away victorious, heal himself and crawl out of the crumbling tree- but he doesn't. He pushes them out, away from harm, a transport spell to take them away.
Kuja, broken, bloodied, dying. Not a spark of magic left in him, barely the energy to form words as Zidane... tries to make him comfortable. Never came to save him, even Zidane couldn't be so stupid- but trying to be there, to make sure his last moments aren't alone. The words that haunt him, every second of every day, echoing softly.

"Wouldn't you have done the same for me?"

Zidane, his way out, his saving grace, the infuriating little lecher who reached out despite everything... The dream fades. Lingering whisps of thought, fragments of memory from other minds in the room... but nothing more of Gaia or of Terra.

[einspine]

It's so much to process. So much to absorb. And yet, it's all so... sad. It's the only way to describe it. The harsh words. The desperation. Death and carnage and destruction and more. It's... not pretty. Not even remotely uplifting. Some might look upon it all and assume the worst of Kuja... but not Papyrus.

And clearly not this other, who stays beside him despite it all.

Papyrus would speak, but it all seems too personal. Too complicated. All he can do is watch. Maybe make a soft grunt before the words die. Thankfully, Madhuri's action seems to help. Perhaps they'll get out of here in no-

But the imagery changes, all too abruptly. Outside, amidst colorless buildings. A skeleton- shorter and rounder than Papyrus- in a labcoat, grabbing a suitcase and dashing about. A smaller skeleton, clad in a black shirt and bone-shaped stripes watches his elder, who smiles despite the darkened eye sockets. It's a bit unsettling.

"SANS, WHAT'RE YOU-"

The other skeleton halts. Shoulders hunching. Light returns to his sockets and he shrugs.

"just think of it like an... extended vacation. ain't nothin' to worry about, bro."

But there's a hint- very slight- that something is amiss. And just like that it's gone. Swept away, replaced with snow and buildings adorned with lights and so many strange faces. Rabbits, bears, mice in scarves, monsters young and old, until the tiny skeleton finds himself lost amidst the woods with nothing but a pan on his head and a mixing spoon in hand.

A fuzzy, goat-like monster clad in Santa Claus clothes approaches, but the image flickers again. High above, an artificial sky dome. A fish-like monster wiping sweat off her forehead and twirling a wrench as a crowd cheers. That same fish, slightly older, patting a teenage Papyrus on the back as they march through the doors to a laboratory.

And then it all abruptly turns very dark.