event } the honk is coming from inside the ship

[seeingyou]

WHO: Everyone left behind on Navi.
WHAT: There’s a goose on the loose!
WHERE: Anywhere on Navi.
WHEN: Feb. 20-March 13
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if the goose pecks through your skull, please make sure to fill out the death page.

Those of you who haven’t been swept off to a hell dimension may find that Navi is … unusually empty. Those links you had with your partner? It’s like they’ve just been shut off with the flick of a switch. Weird, right?

However, Navi’s halls are not exactly quieter for the emptiness. At first, you might think you’re imagining it, but soon enough, it becomes evident that there is something else on board this ship and it honks. The honking is intermittent, but it never truly ends for good. You’ll hear it through the walls, outside your cabin doors, on the next floor - everywhere.

After a few hours of this nonsense, Navi reaches out to the passengers via the mental link and asks them to find the source of this infernal noise and round it up so it can be ejected from the ship. It’s driving Navi nuts, they can’t tell where the honking is coming from, so they can’t take care of it themselves. It won’t be easy, because this goose is wily (and an eldritch being, technically), but it needs to be handled, and there’s no one else around. Good thing you’re still here to help!

Comments

Simon Reese | OTA

[bilocates]

This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here... wherever "here" was. Prison? No, too cozy for prison. All the rooms were far too comfortable for prison, he'd checked several upon waking, bilocating around as far as he could reach. Another hospital? Possible, but empty. Very empty. If that were the case, how? It has been more than two years, he's kept himself so well hidden, how did anyone catch him? And more, how were they keeping him here?

Or, worse yet, was it all in his head? Was he really that insane? That idea didn't make much sense, so Simon was quick to discard it. If it were simply a matter of very convincing hallucinations that he was suddenly coming out of he wouldn't be able to still bilocate. If he were hallucinating now why... in the hell is there a goose?

Answers weren't forthcoming jumping between locked and empty rooms, so Simon decided to try the door which to his surprise opened willingly. No locks. Not a hospital. So where?

He set out, skulking along the hallways searching for any signs of life. Semi-following that distant honking, part in curiosity, part in hope that it might lead him somewhere with answers. If this is the end of the world it's a whole lot weirder than he expected.

Re: Simon Reese | OTA

[imarealistnotacynic]

Richard Strand is not happy. Stuck on this ship, desperate for some sort of distraction with that ridiculous honking - he intends to ignore it. None of this was funny, it-

Something cracks in his mind. Something familiar. Something whispering as he cocks his head to the left. It was familiar. It was like...like-

He feels rather than sees or acknowledges his father hitting him in the shoulder, knocking him into the floor over the tall dark shadows across the hallway. He turns and his lips press together, turning another corner as the slap hits again. He rubbed at his shoulder as his head filled with creeping, the sounds of whispering.

It drowned out the honking. Something expanded in his mind, some great fluttering winged thing that made him feel better as he took another sharp corner, stopping himself before he collided with another man.

"...That damned goose"

[bilocates]

The goose will not be ignored.

Nor will that sickening, creeping darkness. Like an oil slick of smoke pressing upon his mind, thick and inescapable once it latched on. He sensed Strand, recognized him, and almost predatorily sought him out. Something familiar, someone familiar... better than this non-hallucination could present. If Strand were here there was a possibility Alex wasn't far off, and right now the skeptic presented the best source for answers.

Even if he had to pry them out of his brain.

Simon had paused just before the collision could happen, eyeing Strand in a way that was part amused and part... really unnerving. Maybe it was the way he didn't quite seem to blink. "Hello, Dr. Strand." He offered in that same slightly condescending and slightly amused tone he often offered to Alex. "What are you doing here?"

Actually... "And why is there a goose?"

[imarealistnotacynic]

Richard Strand freezes.

Hello Doctor Strand. It's so casually said that he turns and blinks. Richard's secret super power isn't that he's psychic. It isn't that he's intelligent. It's that he can seem totally put together at the drop of a hat. Drawing himself up he clamps a vice over his emotions before raising an eyebrow and saying in a pleasant (read: polite yet ice cold) voice, "Do I know you?"


That trickle. There is something about this man that he knows and some part of him is relieved there's someone else besides Alex here who knows what he's going through.

"Were you one of my students..." no, "Or someone I've worked with?"

The latter sounds right.

[bilocates]

That really is Richard's super power, though that isn't the part that catches Simon off guard. It's the question and the lack of a lie behind it. He really doesn't know. For a moment he looks perplexed, genuinely confused.

"You don't remember?" His brows knit, something almost like concern flitting over his... rather intently staring features. Simon doesn't exactly show concern well, but it wasn't like he considered Strand an enemy. Just someone stubbornly close minded.

The question earned an amused sound. "No. I'm not someone you would work with. You really don't remember me?" What have they done to him?

[imarealistnotacynic]

Ah.

Richard's fear dissolves into something more like disgust but the boy looks uncomfortable and that's making him feel uncomfortable. Or at least unnerved. Still he keeps his gaze up, "I don't know you no."

A pause, "Unless we meet later than expected." His features curl, "I'm apparently from earlier in my world's timeline." He's not telling this boy about Alex, never, "You and I are the only people from our world if you know."

[bilocates]

Oh it's about to get worse. Richard, you really shouldn't have told him that. Just, volunteered it outright. He didn't even have to pry! He giggled, he absolutely giggled because Richard Strand just screwed up spectacularly.

"That's not true." He responded, almost singsong. "How must it feel, I wonder? Richard Strand lost in the dark. The enigmatic book held wide open for all the world to see. How much does she know, Doctor?" His discomfort had given way to something of a disturbing amount of glee. And oh yes, he's hinting at Alex, because if Richard's aware that he's somehow out of time then the only reason behind that could possibly be Alex.

No one else was going to care enough to hold his hand.

[imarealistnotacynic]

Richard's hands clench at his sides. The facade remains, "I have no idea who or what you're talking about."

But he does face the man - the boy - head on, "Who are you? How do you know me?"

Something rustles in his mind, a twisting curling dragon.

[bilocates]

"Do you think denial will keep them safe?" He straightened, swaying to the side just a touch, like a crooked tree. Still watching Strand with that intense, unblinking stare. Simon didn't falter, even in the face of Richard's anger which he could feel, the coiling dragon riling for a fight.

Simon wasn't afraid, even if perhaps he should know better. The whispers grew louder, the lights in the ship flickering just slightly. "Oh, you'll learn. Not yet. It's too early for you yet." Alex will absolutely ruin his game whenever she arrives... though it's strange he can't feel her.

Still, somewhere in the distance, crashing and honking intensifies. But who has time for a goose when there's a dragon to harass?

[imarealistnotacynic]

That. Damned. Honking.

Richard stares up at the lights, "This is below you." Richard's eyes narrow, "These light tricks. NAVI. They're beneath you."

As for the young man, he straightens, "...You're not going to get a rise out of me."

Though he wants to. Oh there's a thread of something dark in him, "What's your name? Tell me your name."

[bilocates]

"It's not Navi," Who is Navi? He'll find out later. "You know that." Because he knows Richard can read him, even if he's ignoring it. He can hear your whispers, too, Richard.

The honking, however, is very annoying. It's even enough for Simon to break his spell and scowl down the hallway. Maybe he needs to throttle a goose? Fun as tormenting Strand is the goose is ruining his groove.

"Simon Reese." You can have that one for free.

[imarealistnotacynic]

"Simon." His features go cold, "Why don't you tell me about yourself Mr. Reese." He gestures, "Or do you prefer Simon?"

The goose might be annoying but he needs to be invested in making sure it's safe now, "Can I assume I met you through working with that podcast?"

Something that's looking like a bigger and bigger mistake.

[bilocates]

"That's not how this works. You're going to have to ask." That doesn't mean he won't answer, but he'll probably not answer straight. Especially now that he's busy looking for that goose.

"You can, if you want." It is and it isn't. They may have met regardless, the podcast just made it easier. Of course Simon's going to make it sound more cryptic than necessary.

There. Kitchen. He found it. Without so much as an explanation Simon just walked off, heading down the hallway with purpose, as though he knew the way.

[abstrusus]

Answers were boring, Simon. Embrace the unknown of honks and space, they'd say -- might say. For now, raiding the kitchen. Oh! Fingers dance in delight as the space is upheaved into a natural disaster in .2 seconds. Delightful strange tastes, but this? This? Boxed wine. Uncouth. It did nothing; well and matter of fact none of this did anything but that wasn't the point of indulgence.

Fine. Box open. Glass. Hand. And exit. Success.

And so they roam with no particular direction, no specific motive, and no real desire to find this source of honk. Let it honk. Troubled them none. They took in the sight of that endlessness, the stars, the unknown and unanswered and -- for just a moment -- let their head fall back in pure, simple bliss. It had been so long. Okay, so compared to the span of their life a few hundred years wasn't that long, they're being dramatic. Still.

Just. Delightful. Absolutely divine. What a splendid happenstance. Not quite free but free enough, they will take it.

Their wandering continues around the corner where another body walked. Whether someone wanted to focus on height and stature, odd features, or the fact that they wore taps on their heels -- there's very little that's subtle about them. Sickly white thick boned fingers taper off into sharp black. They scratch a line into the glass in Quin's hand. Shoulder leaning against the wall. Ankles cross.

"Do you dance?" Because that is obviously what someone would expect to hear.

[bilocates]

The unknown is disturbing and unsettling, Simon is the type who likes to know things. Who really enjoys being more informed than everyone else who should be informed, it's one of his favorite games. Being the cryptic Cheshire Cat leaving a trail of crumbs for others to follow.

This wholly unfamiliar, and possibly hallucinated, existence was far less fun than that.

Thanks to the time wasted and bickering from the group he just ditched he lost sight of the goose, calling back to himself for the moment while he reoriented. Only to bump into, well not literally, but run across something far more alarming than a goose that gave him a headache. This... being, whatever it was, was not wholly dissimilar from the shadowy entities and demons that preyed upon children to indoctrinate them into the end times Tiamat cult. Only rather than vaguely threatening this one seemed... friendly?

That might be worse.

Simon froze, staring at them for a long, unblinking moment. Perplexed and confused by the question, as it felt very much like he was back in Three Rivers where little in the way of conversation ever made sense. But this one wasn't insane like they were, they were just alien.

"...No."

Another long, long moment, still with that unblinking stare.

"Why?"

[abstrusus]

Eyes hollow and black stare back at Simon; head tilting to the side nice and slow. That sharpened point continues to draw a line deep into the glass -- seemingly now empty. Tap. Tap. Stop.

Time is ever abundant. For them, at least. But they allow that room to process. Nothing in all the universes is one-hundred percent certain. When even the smallest points of matter act chaotic and contrary, why would anything be certain? Although, it's reasonable to expect things that encourage or embody an end of sorts to be, at least, persistent.

"No," they repeated, slow.

Sliding from the wall, it took only a few steps for that distance to close. Spirit is anything but shy, nearly shoulder to shoulder with the man. Sharpened chin turning in. It looks like metal, the face. Clothing starts at the neck yet it almost seems like where skin should be there was nothing there. Actually nothing. As if someone could reach out their hand and go right through it (they can't, but they'll encourage the curiosity if ever it occurs).

They lean in, for just a moment. "Because I want to dance." A pause, pull back. Take a walk around. Grand gesture, but oddly casual. Seems like the glass is gone now, too. Where did it go? Did they eat it? Probably.

The amusement can be heard clearly in their voice when they pause to speak again. "Why else would I have taps on my heels? Do I seem like someone who needs the extra announcement of their presence."

[bilocates]

Few things in life were certain, this entity, whatever they were, was certainly one of the more unusual. Trying to peer into it, to make sense of it, was much like trying to stare into the heart of a vortex. The deeper he looked the worse that pounding headache from the goose became. So he pulled back, choosing to opt out of trying to understand this being's thoughts.

Whatever their motives were they didn't make much sense to him.

Simon continued to watch, staring in that strange unblinking way of his. They weren't one of the entities he had some experience with, but they weren't entirely dissimilar either. Were they after the children as well? No, he didn't think so. Not here.

"I don't know," He answered, leaning back and away from them. While they had no sense of personal bubble Simon had a fairly large one. He didn't much like being touched. "You like the sound?" The dancing was the most reasonable answer, sure, but why not both?

"...What are you?"

[abstrusus]

There was a lot to cipher through. If Simon had a question, they might be able to find some kind of answer within although understanding it may prove a little more difficult. Elusive as their mind was, Aether could clarify easier if physically asked rather than searched, usually. Still, they wouldn't stop Simon from searching. Eyeless features watched, that feeling ever present.

A few low chuckles vibrated up from the figure shortly after, and one step back when Simon retreats. Motive. What a human thing. Some other entities, Omega supposes, operate on motive but not many that they know. Mere nature was more common than any grand scheme. When time was so endless, who cared about something as trivial as motive? Feet coming together with a stomp. A gesture of their hand.

"There is that, too." Head rolling. Serious child. So let's be serious. Hands clasp and hang infront their body. "A spirit."

[bilocates]

So much. So many questions. Deciding which were most important was the tricky part. Who could say how long this entity would tolerate his probing? The being watched sensation might have been unsettling for most, at this point Simon was so accustomed he'd almost call it comforting. Almost. It came with the territory of having your own personal boogeyman.

When time was fleeting and existence so tenuous and fragile, that was when one cared about motive. Human indeed. For now.

Simon is a serious child, barely any fun in him at all. It isn't his fault, he just doesn't really know how. "Are there more like you?" A spirit wasn't the strangest thing he could have been told. Another that traveled the world beneath the world.

[abstrusus]

"Four," themselves excluded.

Fun was relative. Quintessence was nothing short of indulgent, and in the physical realm -- without being compelled or channelled by ritual -- they have all the power to choose what they wish to decode for others. If they desire to at all. As of now, Aether isn't troubled by the questions. They're curious enough of this being.

So they dip their head and unfold a hand. "You know us well. Air, fire, earth, water and spirit."

[bilocates]

Pretending you're an international superspy in the Borne Identity counts as having fun, right? Although now the game had shifted and apparently turned into science fiction and Simon didn't yet know what to make of that. Nor was he completely convinced he hadn't had a psychotic break and was experiencing some kind of schizophrenic episode. How would he know? No one's sedated him yet, but that'll happen in due time.

Or it won't, and this is his life now.

That aside, the answer did intrigue him. Elements. They were...

"Elementals."

Yes, Simon's familiar with the concepts. The method by which he's come to most of this information has been highly unconventional, yet through his "tutor" this has allowed him something of a bit more clarity than might be common among most humans. He tilts his head, now perhaps less concerned about this being and more intrigued.

"They misattribute your name. Call you a demon." Which isn't accurate, but rarely these things are.

[abstrusus]

It's your life either way, Simon. Hallucination or not. Although it's not always a snap in human wiring. Occasionally, its something reaching out. Whispers that can't be unheard. Some are born with it for whatever reason. An open gate. Sensitive. Some never learn to understand. Regardless of the cause, neurological or spiritual, it's their life. Who's to say one reality is less valid than another?

They snap up with a chuffed laugh. Head rolling back to centre; hands folding again in front their body. A click of their heel against the other. "Oh, they misattribute many things, many things. It's not news to me." Spoke with a point, "but your disposition has changed."

[bilocates]

Well, to be fair, he's very familiar with the latter. Very, deeply familiar. Though getting anyone to listen or believe him has been an effort in futility. Alex has been the only one who has really started to accept what he's saying as true. He hates that she's had to see. Once that door is opened it doesn't usually close again.

Not surprising that they're not surprised. People have been getting it wrong since time immemorial, and ever will continue to do so if Simon has his way. "You're not a part of the ones who want to Devour everything." This entity, this being, seems to enjoy... well things in general. Anything. Enjoyment is something those who've succumbed to the Cult of Tiamat don't enjoy things. They have no love. So, in Simon's book, Spirit here is fine.

[abstrusus]

No, no when the door opens it does not close. Not without some heavy locks. Its not always that the otherworld creep in uninvited but that the mind has become enlightened to the fact that a door exists and it's a bit more like a glass window, really. But they're always around you, everywhere you go you're looking through a window. Sometimes you see what you see, and sometimes you see something else; hear something else; feel something else.

"Want?" Quintessence chuckled. "We don't want unless its our wont to say we want, when we want to. Want is for you to have. We are nature. Because we are, it happens. A star dies. A fire burns." A beat. "But have you considered that?" Tilt of their head. "Your Tiamat and followers do as they do because they're meant to, and so are you. You have plenty of choice, you know. Magnificent capacity as that is, but you'll always be commanded by your inner spirit."

Omega had plenty of love and enjoyment for almost everything, especially that which few others did. Their capacity to feel was quite overwhelming, large and endless. Finding bliss in the darkest of things, and that may be similar but this spirit, this being, felt far from malicious. Even within all their destructive nature. Many want to place human emotions and human explanations upon them, but that never quite worked.

"Until you become nature." The shadowy divots in that silver seem to crack for a moment into a toothy smile.

[bilocates]

Some people could pull it off, not Simon. His door had never closed, and at this point he wouldn't be able to go back to pretending anyway. He's seen too much, knows too much, has done too much. Will continue to do too much, there's no turning back now. But that is neither here nor there, faced with the reality of an entity which embodied that mutable truth of their fragile, ever changing existence. Simon didn't really know what to do with this information. Take it as it is? Perhaps the only option. Was there ever another?

It didn't change anything, of course, this is how it's always been. It's simply strange seeing it so clearly on this side of the world that's barely there. "They think so," Of course he's considered it. "We were all called to play our part." Simon's simply decided to defy that call. To refuse to sing. He will not be a note in the chorus that will end it all. Instead his discordance may, just may, slow them down. "Are you suggesting predestination?" Because he's never believed that. These things were set in motion thousands of years ago, yes, but they weren't definite.

He had to believe that.

A huff of dismissive amusement. "Become nature? That's for you." Not for humans.