libraryassistants: (Default)
Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account ([personal profile] libraryassistants) wrote in [community profile] unfinishedlibrary2026-04-24 07:14 pm

maybe a hero is just what we call someone - AFTER WE BREAK, ACT 1

Who: The attendees of the Grand Festival and residents of Rivers' End
What: The Grand Festival has begun!
When: The beginning of spring, for a week long festival (OOC: April 24-Mary 7)
Where: Rivers' End, all around!
Content warnings: Mentions of Godly Death and aftermath of that; put your CWs in the headers!

The streets of Rivers’ End, or at least the main street at the center of town, is alive and bustling as the Grand Festival begins. It's a mostly human city, stone walls thick enough to blunt any siege, timber-framed houses roofed with sturdy slate, narrow cobbled streets and a central market square large enough to hold half the population. The main thoroughfare is broad and open and laden with bright colored banners, tents and stalls to welcome any and all who wish to attend (and spend coin) at the Grand Festival. The air is still crisp in the mornings but warms by midday into the warm golden welcoming of spring.

Outside its massive gates, flung open for the festival, cherry and apple orchards on the surrounding farms and settlements have exploded into pale pink and white, and the city itself has been transformed by hands determined to pretend the war amongst the gods isn't happening. Every balcony, sill and lamppost drips with garlands of flowers and ribbons, some holding stores of fireworks waiting for nightfall. Music spills from every corner, street musicians playing tunes from hymns to one of the divines to rancorous ballads meant to lift spirits and forget the pall of more recent, terrible events. There's even a pair of wooden stages hosting troupes of dancers in flowing costumes. Disregard the way people occasionally flinch as pigeons and starlings thunder into the air, stirred by firecrackers and happy barely-controlled bedlam.

As the gates are opened for the beginning of the day's festivities, a variety of new people seem to be visiting the town for the festival- including the Readers. People are excited, eager to let go of their concerns for a little while, and don't bother to pay attention or care about the influx of tourists; during the Grand Festival people come from countless kingdoms around, strangers are a given.

Of course, given that the Festival is a time to worship the gods and have them all brought together, the temples and their people can be found all around. The Temple of the Artificer is the only one on the main pathway, beautiful sculpted stone and statues of various types (wood, marble, at least one well trimmed bush), with many of the crafting guild halls surrounding it. Their people are around the entrance, some demonstrating the majesty of their craft and the power their god gives them, a spectacle in its own right.

The Temple of the Veiled Lady is by the entrances but a block or so away from the main road, the main decoration being thin drapes acting like veils for the architecture. Since their temple is not on the main road, they have what is probably best described as a booth with a rotating cast of their clerics, paladins, and layfolk- almost always with a crowd of ghosts, all of whom seem to be dancing along to whatever music is playing on the stage. (They do mostly stick to ghosts now, though children periodically try to bid for the return of the dancing zombies.)

The Temple of the Advocate is located further into the poorer area of the city, as that is where their work is most needed; it has the air of a building that is well maintained but would rather be putting food on people’s table than gild their own hall, thank you very much. It is a busy and bustling place that likely has never seen a moment’s peace, even during the festival, priests speaking with those in need and clerics administering aid and paladins running around making sure people and supplies are where they’re needed. Despite this, they too have a booth of sorts, though it is far less about spectacle and more just another avenue to offer their aid. There’s always at least one lawyer-priest there to talk through issues, and at least one paladin keeping an eye out for the children and other more vulnerable parties at the festival.

The Armoured Hound’s Chosen do not have a temple to call their own, but they can be found amongst the crowd as well. Periodically a section will be set up as some sort of fighting ring, and one of the Chosen will enter their Holy Rage, smashing through any and all obstacles to cheers and excitement without harming anything or anyone else. Sometimes they just do ridiculous strongman type tricks as well, even though they’re about the same strength as any other Chosen.

And then… there’s the Thing With Feathers’ Chosen. Having been taken in by the Advocate’s temple, they can on occasion be found lurking around their booth, what few of them there are. A few opt not to wear their raiments and therefore can vanish easily into the crowd, but the ones that do are difficult to miss. Most people seem to treat them with a mix of fear, pity, and curiosity- an unhelpful combination that mostly ends in lingering, uncomfortable stares. These Chosen are not showing off the powers of their god. If anything, they seem to be trying the best they can to pretend they’re not there.

The various temples aren’t the only ones out in force, naturally. The rest of the street is lined with merchants of all stripes, food vendors, and small performances that continue outside the main stage. Most are legitimate; some are… less so. There’s a fortune teller who claims they can communicate with the dead (and a paladin of the Veiled Lady may or may not be keeping a close eye on them), a merchant who claims to have feathers of an extinct bird (one of the Thing’s Chosen looks like they’re trying really hard not to punch him in the face), and so forth. All in all, the atmosphere is lively, light, and filled with revelry. Time for everyone to enjoy themselves!
keytarheroine: (1v1 me you won't break me)

Claire "Riot Purple" Ryland | Magica Riot | Reader | OTA, will match format

[personal profile] keytarheroine 2026-04-25 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
1: At The Gates - Your Companion, Undeterred
["Here we go again," was her thought as her hand met the page -

And then she stumbles, forward, dressed for the occasion and bearing a harp, but very much still herself, Claire Ryland, Riot Purple, of the Starlight Alliance out of Portland.

A festival day, full of tourists, in a sword and sorcery city? So far, the Recommended Reading was correct. And those banners bearing symbols, the flower garlands... there are the Gods.

She never thought she'd be grateful for living as an actress, but she sure is now, as she turns to a stranger, smiling, and says:]


Forgive me, this is my first time in the city. Call me Lucia, and please tell me if there is a god of music or drama I may pay honor to here, I pray thee.

2 - Temple of the Advocate - Can we wander for a spell, and live in parallel
[The Temple of the Advocate sounds like her kind of people, and the knowledge that there are Chosen of a dead God they've taken in is deeply unsurprising to a girl who's done the background reading. And, so, "Lucia Amaranth" has taken it upon herself to volunteer her time here, as a performer to lighten spirits - to sing for the locals - but also, things like making food or cleaning donated clothing.

If you are of the Advocate, or the Thing With Feathers, or even praying here or down on your luck, you might see her, at the soup kitchen, or sewing mended clothing, or even with a harp and singing. Have you need of any of these?]


3 - Main Festival Square - I greet your day, and ask you how you are; And demonstrate my endless repertoire
[And so it comes to pass that a wandering bard has set up her own place to busk for coin, Claire laughing at herself for how useful the ability to put lyrics through the Iambic Pentamerator from Montica proved for the next Story, as she sings a number of tunes:]

As I walk around this provincial town
I thought I left a whole lifetime ago
There's nought to do but lose my way into
That thick and cold fog of "nowhere to go"

More fool, I thought I left it all behind
In the time I wandered, those years ago
And those ghosts from the past aren't kind to me
You think they forget, but they always know...

You can't run away from your yesterdays
You can try to hide, and turn out the light
But I know that the'll find me there one night
And they'll drag me away, drag me away...

[She will thank anyone that tips her... and if that person seems to be a Reader, she may ask]

...Forgive me, but, are you one of the Librarian's Chosen?
Edited (close your tags talia) 2026-04-25 00:07 (UTC)
bashasasdemon: (Kai-Enna [default])

Cinera/The Broken Paladin (Kaiisteron) - OTA

[personal profile] bashasasdemon 2026-04-25 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
Cinera was not hiding.

Maybe he should be. He knew people were still... uncomfortable around the Thing's Chosen. (Former Chosen? Fuck, he didn't know. None of them.) But it was still important, to remember the gods they served. Had served. Or it was important to him, at least. The Thing might be dead, but the things it represented weren't. Hope wasn't dead. Cinera needed to believe that, or he might really break.

He's in his normal kit, the winged armor over one arm and the simple tabbard with the Thing's symbol- a single, shining feather- with his curved blade hanging by his hips. He was, pointedly, keeping his hands away from it- not that it would matter if he actually lost it. But he wasn't happy going out without it either. He was... slight, and always had been. More than once he'd been called a 'little thing,' which as soon as he was old enough to understand what that meant, it was usually replied to with a snarl. One of the priests who had trained him had commented that maybe that was why the Thing chose him. 'What is hope,' he had mused aloud, 'but a feral little thing who refuses to die?'

That priest was dead now. So, so many of them were, and Cinera forcibly pulled his thoughts away, re-fastening the pin keeping his braids up as a way to refocus on the scene in front of him. He could do this. He could pretend everything was normal. That it didn't all still hurt this much.

Mostly, he hung out by the Advocate's booth, for a lack of anything else to do. But he was also a pretty good judge at this point of telling when people were uncomfortable, so he would wander off on occasion. Take in the sights. Try to enjoy himself. But mostly just... trying not to feel that hollowness even more than ever, aching when he remembered this time last year, when the Thing was still alive.

He definitely is tempted to punch the one merchant with dyed 'mystic' feathers in the face. If only for the distraction from his own thoughts. For those that dare to get close, they might hear a quiet tune, under his breath.

"Hope is not a peaceful thing
Hope will not lie still
Hope is not surrender
Hope is force of will."
ohaiyo_isekai: (:zephyrism)

The Secular Scholar

[personal profile] ohaiyo_isekai 2026-04-25 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
Charalampos Ouranios is selling pigments, dyes, and paper in the square… and donating same to the Church of the Advocate, before doing interviews with those Chosen of the Advocate and of The Thing With Feathers that aren’t thoroughly sick of him.

If anyone claims to be a Chosen of a god he’s not familiar with, he will pleasantly and politely hound them for an interview.
icanhearscreams: (alone)

Lonan/Jun Ushiro | OTA

[personal profile] icanhearscreams 2026-04-25 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
Temple of the Advocate

Lonan rises early, as he often does. That part of his rhythm hasn't changed since the old days, though he spends more time awake at night than he once did. He washes and changes his clothing, and considers his options carefully as he does. He sighs and grabs his cloak, black with black feathers on it, and wraps it around himself. It's spring, but still early - so he needs to stay warm.

He walks over to the Temple of the Advocate - not a far walk at all - and heads inside. Those who catch him as he comes in will be ignored, as he heads for the infirmary. As he comes out though he'll be a bit more sociable, at least acknowledging people who say hello to him.

Today is not a good day for him - the merriment makes his head hurt - but he'll walk with anyone over to the main festival if people want.


Festival

He gets stares. He always gets stares, but especially when he wears his cloak. He doesn't care - he deserves the stares and he knows it. The blood has long been washed off the cloak, but the memory of it remains.

Lonan tries to enjoy himself - he gets some food, he looks at the crafts, but most of all he keeps an eye out for the lost-looking people. He's always had a good map of the city in his head, because... well, seeing it from above is helpful for that. Or it was, once upon a time.

Anyone who looks lost is liable to be approached, possibly without them noticing until the young teenager is at their side. "... Where are you trying to get to?"


Late (cw: brief mention of underage drinking)

Lonan stays out longer than he wants to. He forces himself to - after all, the people around might help revive his spirits. But they don't. They never do. Instead it just makes him think of all those who died -

- He moves to an inn, packed with people. His cloak allows him some room as people move away from him, giving him pitying looks. It gets him a table by himself, and he watches people as he nurses a juice. He could probably get away with a very low alcoholic beer, especially today, but he'd rather not dull his senses. He's tried dulling them in other ways, and it never helps.

But anyone unusual will get a stare from him, whether they like it or not.
deinoswitch: (Dancing)

Dionysus | The Hymn to Dionysus | Reader

[personal profile] deinoswitch 2026-04-25 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
For the first day after the Readers arrive at the Festival, one black veiled/robed tattooed witch is near impossible to find. Well, he is if you stay in the city at least. Dionysus is off to the nearby woods, to collect herbs and honey and other things. Because starting on the second day...

Witch's Wares

A stall opens up on the street, with a variety of salves and healing herbs and such for sale. There are no set prices on anything- Dionysus seems to take more or less what's offered, since he doesn't know what the currency here even is and witches traditionally don't take coin as payment anyway- and more or less any remedy for much of anything isn't far off, though some of them certainly seem strange. Enough that a few clerics or paladins might be set watch to make sure he's not up to anything.

He's sharing the booth with Illumination, who's selling some small charms and things, and between the two of them they get a lot of attention. The black veil, robe, and tattoos mark Dionysus as a clear outsider, as does Illumination's... everything. So the first day or two, most people who come up to them are likely just curious. However, it's not too long before people figure out that what this mysterious stranger offers works, and the word spreads quickly.

Sometimes, he even has something special on offer: for any of the Thing's chosen who happens to stop by, he'll regard them for a moment before reaching down behind his normal stock and producing a small jar of honey, pressing it into their hands. He will not accept it back, and while he will accept payment, he won't require it. But if they want to know what it's for, they'll have to ask.

In general, his voice is warm and friendly when he greets people who stop by. "How are you feeling? Is there something in particular you need?" Don't make him guess. He will, and he'll be upsettingly accurate.

After Dark

At least one evening, after many of the stalls had shut down for the night, Dionysus will be out either near the stage or one of the taverns. Out of his witching costume, he's almost entirely unrecognizable; he's found a basic sort of outfit that blends in well, with long sleeves that hook over his fingers, hiding the tattoos up his arms. He's a stunning man, with fine tuned, pretty features and curly black hair that he lets fall rather than its normal tight braid.

And he dances.

If those who saw him dance at the Library party thought it was a fluke, this will certainly dissuade them of that notion. If anything, the effect is more pronounced here- when he dances, the crowd seems almost hypnotized, drawn into the revelry and their dancing and carousing becoming almost feverish as the tide of the celebration shifts around him, joy and abandon and just this side of becoming something dangerous.

He never dances for long, flitting between places and parties and seeming entirely ignorable when he isn't the center of attention. Which is, perhaps, its own tell.
angel_of_baal: (pic#18074650)

Sanguinius | reader (whaaaat?) Chosen of Veiled Lady | OTA

[personal profile] angel_of_baal 2026-04-25 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
The Streets
He's chosen his cover with some care--as much as one might with only the faintest idea of what would actually come. He's still tall, and blonde, but the wings are gone. It's a novelty to him, to be able to even remotely fit in. No one staring at him, no one trying to touch his wings. No one knew who he was. It felt...strangely free.

The plan had been to do some reconnaissance, and to enjoy what it might be like to be a visitor in these stories, semi-willing, and not an unwilling, hijacked participant.

He's never been normal before. It's an experience. In the town, decked for a festival, he samples the food, haggles for a small knife as a weapon, finds a stationer, and after a while, finds a vantage near the fountain where he can settle and draw, capturing the scenes around him, ears open, listening for information.

The Veiled Lady

Sanguinius is touring the temples, but this one he keeps coming back to. He can't figure out why. It's not the warrior god. It's not the god of the feathered thing. It's the Lady, veiled and hidden.

It feels like blasphemy, heresy, to find himself staring up at this statue, and after a while he feels as though his actions are not fully his own. When one of the diaphanous veils is offered to him, he reaches out. And when one calls to him, from the back room, saying he looked strong, he went.

And that's how he found himself learning the healer's crafts, strapping a small kit to his hip, using his hands to heal, and his voice to give words of comfort.

Should one seek him, or arrive at the temple, he might appear, veil as a hood over his hair. "How may we heal you ills, traveler?"

Nighttime Wandering
He's still himself, and it's all (or is it) part of his cover story, but still the others need sleep and he does not. So he has long times off shift, when his fellow acolytes are resting, daytime, or nighttime, but mostly at night, wandering the streets.

He has a list, items, herbs, and ingredients for the salves they make. If you sell such things, he is at your stall, or in the woods outside. Does he have coin enough to pay for it? Perhaps.

Ye Olde WildeCarde
((Run into him places! Or ping me and I'll tag into yours!))
redprayer: (you're never coming back)

Festival

[personal profile] redprayer 2026-04-25 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
Sancho Cabrera is a tall man in black robes, who wears a veil that covers his eyes. This makes it harder to see his expression, but the glimpse Lonan will get is distinctly vexed.

"Ah..." he says, turning his head Lonan's way. "I'm not lost, but my attendant seems to be."

He shows no reaction to Lonan's appearance, but if Lonan pays attention to gossip he may have already heard of the blind priest who serves the Veiled Lady.
zero_votes: (Well Now!)

Caine | TADC | Actor | OTA (will match format)

[personal profile] zero_votes 2026-04-25 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
Blacksmithing Stall

This particular blacksmithing stall was a large canvas tent that stretched over the back of a brightly-colored traveler's wagon like one might see where the performing troupes were staying. However, this wagon was set up a bit differently with the door entering it on the side and attached to the back a metal portable forge that seemed to grow out of the back wall with a third pair of wheels to add additional support for the structure. Another awning had been set up on the side opposite the entry door as a makeshift stable where a massive gray gelding with white speckles munched on a small trough of oats and hay before dipping his massive head into a larger water trough.

On the tables and set up on stands were weapons, armor, and steel and cast-iron tools. Each piece was expertly-crafted with even the humblest cast iron skillet having some sort of decorative embellishment that didn't undermine the item's purpose if it wasn't able to actually enhance it.

A sign at the front identified the vendor as "Caine's Blacksmithing".

A red-haired young man pressed down on the foot-powered bellows to supply air to the already red-hot forge. Despite his youth, he watched the metal heating up inside with an expert's eye. So distracted was he that he wouldn't immediately notice someone approaching.

Exploring the Festival Grounds

The Grand Festival was the perfect time to do some shopping since there were so many different vendors here. Things Caine couldn't typically get his hands on and far more interesting food than the simple meals he himself could cook.

With his goods locked up while he wandered the grounds and with Bubble (the giant equine menace) on watch, he was free to take in the sights while trying not to get run over by people taller than his unimpressive five feet in height.

Wildcard

Throw a starter my way!
codeswitchcraft: (Default)

Re: MOD QUESTIONS

[personal profile] codeswitchcraft 2026-04-25 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
If an actor has a least boon we want to have happened in the past, can the thread proof be done as a flashback or talking about it?
Edited 2026-04-25 01:20 (UTC)
highsteaks: (drawing)

3

[personal profile] highsteaks 2026-04-25 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
... look, it's not like Chie's going to be able to use any of her pocket change anytime soon and the brown-haired bard in the fancy purple dress looks familiar. So sure, she'll toss her a fifty yen coin. Why not?

And then the bard asks a question and Chie abruptly realizes why she looks familiar.

"Um, yes. Yes, I am. You too?"
noonlight: (tief)

Illumination | Reader

[personal profile] noonlight 2026-04-25 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
Market | Sumer is icumen in Lhude sing cuccu

The market itself is good for people watching, and it gives Lu a solid sense of how well they do or don't fit it. On the whole, it's a little less welcoming than home, but the locals haven't (yet) brought out the pitchforks and torches. (Or at the very least, no one recognizes them for one the Get.)

Unlike in Montica, they can't easily take over an abandoned home, but for now, they've negotiated to pay for space in the loft over a mews. It's cramped, dark, and smells of horses, but with a bit of work, it will do for a safe space. Any Reader they come across at the Market is given instructions on how to find it, and that it's a safe space.

And for Actors and the locals of this world? Well, they're offered charms at a fair price: repairs, magical glitter, brighter colours on their clothing, and occasionally a bit of string turned into a fine hair ribbon.

Research | Groweþ sed and bloweþ med

One evening, Illumination tracks down Roboute with what is, clearly, a brilliant idea: they can get another sort of baseline reading here, without his more primarch-y attributes causing all manner of strange readings. "What do you think? Will you let me repaint you?"

Festival | and springþ þe wde nu

While they generally prefer to stay home, read, and work on their side projects, occasionally Illumination wants to spend a night out and enjoy themselves. With a little coin in hand, and a couple of trinkets to trade where needed, they make a point of doing their make-up well and slip out into the festival.

Throughout the night they might be found drinking mead or metheglin (if there is any to be found), dancing with the braver of the locals, or negotiating with a lady of negotiable affection. Should they come across a fellow Reader, they'll gladly wave them over to buy a drink or food and to catch-up.

"Darling, come here!"

Wildcard | Sing cuccu, Sing cuccu nu!

Come at me, bro.
zero_votes: (Confused)

3

[personal profile] zero_votes 2026-04-25 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Claire wouldn't likely recognize the redhead until he looked at her with his mismatched eyes. And if that wasn't enough of a giveaway, his very distinct voice:

"I'm sorry, but the what's Chosen?"

Ever wonder what Caine would look like as a human? Now you know. And, for the record, he's still barely kissing five feet tall. Eternal shorty.

The mention of "Chosen" made him tense up. A bit of a sore spot for him.
flantastic: (hat)

Rakia/The Armoured Paladin | OTA

[personal profile] flantastic 2026-04-25 02:11 am (UTC)(link)
[In the Ring]
Rakia "Boulder" Amarga, one of the paladins of the Armored Hound, is not at all hard to find at the festival. He can frequently be found smashing through things in the ring, with large rocks being a particular favorite of the crowd. Sometimes, he'll be smashing the hell out of a large rock, and the crowd will chant "THROW IT! THROW IT!" but he doesn't listen, just keeps right on smashing. A berserker fit doesn't lend itself well to listening to anyone but the Hound, but even without that, Rakia would not be eager to start throwing boulders around. Way too risky to do around a crowd, and it's not like he's proud of why they're so into the idea that he might start throwing boulders around...

He's perfectly humble about all of it after his performance, and seems almost surprised if anyone wants to talk with him afterwards.

[Feats of Strength]
Rakia favors the ridiculous feats of strength over going to town smashing things; he can sometimes be found flexing an armored arm as a laughing boy of about nine or ten years old goes hanging off of it. "Come on! Come on!" He's beckoning at the crowd, trying to keep them amped up. "I've got a free arm here, any takers?" and he'll beckon to other excited children who might be watching. Berserkers could be scary! And it is so important to him that the kids know he and his brethren are nothing to be afraid of.

When he is not swinging kids around, he's bending and un-bending horseshoes. And he's perfectly pleasant and almost charming about it, much unlike the Rakia Readers know. He'll raise an unbent horseshoe, or one bent into an S, to onlookers. "You there! Care for a souvenir?"

[Around Town]
Despite the fact that Rakia's a paladin of the Armored Hound with all that entails, he's friendly with the support staff at many of the other temples, and he can often be found chatting with them outside the temple walls. The Amargas are a big family, after all, and it's important to him to keep up with his cousins.

He's still keeping an eye out for anyone who might look like they need help. If someone looks lost or overwhelmed, he won't hesitate to ask, "Are you all right? Did you need help with anything?"
lapilliculture: (locker room)

Dale (Denny Revane) - Artificer Cleric

[personal profile] lapilliculture 2026-04-25 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
The Temple of the Artificer, in addition to its statuary, also boasts the finest garden in Rivers' End. Plants that by all rights should not grow in this climate at all thrive there, and some have flowers that sparkle like gemstones in the light.

Despite being one of the Temple's Chosen, it's well-known that the head gardener claims to do all of this work himself, without the Artificer's input. Dale doesn't particularly care if anyone else finds that an impossibility, either. He never asked for this in the first place.

For the most part, he prefers to ignore the festivities rather than participate, unless he can take a moment to lurk around the shadier merchants and see if any of them have anything actually worth their asking price (usually, they do not). It's harder this year, after the Thing's death, but he's still giving it his best effort.

Gods are a distraction.
lapilliculture: (trading post)

wares

[personal profile] lapilliculture 2026-04-25 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
"Hmm? Oh, no, nothing in particular," Dale says. "Just curious as to what you have."
shakenit: (Default)

[personal profile] shakenit 2026-04-25 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Would a Least Boon put someone in splash-damage range of 'and now all the gods are dead' next log?
birdchasingecho: (Lay Advocate Callie)

2

[personal profile] birdchasingecho 2026-04-25 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
[There's a woman, who normally would decry such bright things as she's wearing. But this is the festival, and it comes so rarely!]

[So! Away with the clothes of mourning, the practical and slightly less colorful clothes of her day job as an advocate (if not an Advocate). On, the most brightly festooned colors a ward of the Advocate and just recently full lay advocate herself can afford-- blacks, dark blues, a single clearly prized sash of orange. It almost distracts from the scar on her eye. Almost. But she refuses to cover it up.]

[As for what she is doing now? Well, she was looking to work the prep line for making another few gallons of soup until noon, but now, she sees someone who is asking to do volunteer work, and she is]

[--struck.]

Oh-- you. Want to help out? Ah--
ohaiyo_isekai: (:levantine)

Hikaru Aozora > Charalampos Ouranios, The Secular Scholar | Actor

[personal profile] ohaiyo_isekai 2026-04-25 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
1 - Galanos Outfitters at the Festival - I mix my yellows and my blues to make a shade of green
[In the main square at the heart of the festival is a merchants tent managed at all times by one of two people; right now, it's being manned by a tall, bright and cheeful man, black-haired, almond-eyed and slightly tan, with a well-groomed mustache. He wears a loose tunic in brilliant crimson red and gold, and - while at his cauldrons and vats - a black conical broadbrimmed hat with a red band around it, as well as sandals.

When not interacting with customers Charalampos Galanos Ouranios, as he introduces himself, is quite chatty, and especially curious about any Gods not well known in Two Rivers - he is taking notes or drawing sketches in a leather bound notebook.

And what does Galanos Outfitters sell? The booth seems split in two. On one half are pigments - inks, paints and dyes assorted paper and parchments; the other, hides, furs, and thread; and in the middle? Are vividly colored, well made bolts of cloth or even garments for sale to the well-dressed visitor to the festival. Strike up a conversation with him and any of these can be yours, for a reasonable price.]


2 - Out and About - All the little nothings and my parapet
[Once in a while, Charalampos will take a small purse and set out, using a black walking stick - he's not as young as he used to be - to get around the festival and enjoy it, or play fetch and carry for his wife with a smile - here are those sausages she likes being grilled over charcoal, there is a fountain pen or a sablehair brush useful for his work, there are some dancers from out of town.

And whenever he finds someone wearing an unfamiliar coat of arms or holy symbol, or speaking of an unfamiliar deity, he will stop, pull out his pencil and notepad, and ask cheerfully:]


Ah, stranger! May I have a moment of your time to ask after your God? I'm a scholar of comparative religion, you see.

3 - At the Temple of the Advocate - Find a new world that can set you free
[...to the Temple of the Advocate - to those who can no longer serve the Thing With Feathers - Charalampos donates some of his dyes, his varnishes, his clothing and thread. It's needed. If not by one of the former Chosen, then by those the Advocate normally serves.

Charalampos Galanos Ouranios, that secular scholar of comparative religion, is a common if not a welcome sight here, prying into the experiences of those who served The Thing With Feathers and the difference between serving it when it was alive, and... now.

He is friendly enough, he comes from a place of wanting to help, but also, he is known for bulldozing these poor people. He'll back off when asked, or when it's clear he's not welcome, but still; he pries, and meddles, and writes it all down in his damnable little book. When asked why, he says, softly:]


Perhaps knowing will help others in your position. At any rate, it's knowledge worth having.

4 - Home That Evening (Locked to Sigrid) - To turn a feeling to a living for my family
[The stall outside the home of Charalampos and Sigrid Ouranios is packed up and away, to set up for the next day. Most of the time he's away to his workshop and study, setting a decoction to boil up while he takes his notes and writes them in ink in more permanent fashion, or writes something else, or paints, or draws.

Until he is drawn out of his reverie by Sigrid needing something, in which case he goes and does it if he can; or if she is calling him to eat, at which point he carefully puts everything away for the day, joins her at the table, and they talk over the meal... and the dishes and washing up, a responsiblity Charalampos is only too happy to shoulder in exchange for home cooked meals and sharing Sigrid's bed.

He enjoys those talks, anyway. She is not a scholar of the same arts, but she is learned in other things, and she can keep up with him - and he with her.

He thinks it a good life, for both of them.]
redprayer: (fall apart without me)

"Sancho Cabrera" | Actor | OTA

[personal profile] redprayer 2026-04-25 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
1. Temple


Ghosts drift elegantly around the stage in time with the serene rhythm of the choir. Sancho can feel them moving about, like a series of cool, gentle breezes. He isn't dancing with them, but is part of the choir. His deep, pleasant voice blends into the harmony of the choir seamlessly, enriching the song as only a well-practiced singer can.

"I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless,
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me."


It would be better, Sancho thinks, if they could have had this performance inside the temple. The weather feels fine enough, but proper acoustics are better at giving the listener chills than even a cluster of ghosts. Still, the audience seems appreciative. When they reach the end of the song, the serenity of the temple grounds are broken temporarily by applause.

Sancho smiles and makes his way off stage, relying on the cane he carries in one hand to navigate his way. It's only the first day, but the Grand Festival this year seems like it will go well even without the presence of the Thing With Feathers.

2. Thoroughfare

2a. Shopping
When he was a young acolyte, Sancho Cabrera had lived an ascetic lifestyle. This hadn't been for any particular spiritual reasons, merely that he'd had neither time, space, nor the money to spend on indulgences. Proper shopping at the Grand Festival was for other people.

But it's been some decades since then and Sancho has made his way to becoming one of those people. Now, he can actually afford to take time away from the Temple's booth to not only wander the festival, but to inspect and actually buy some of the goods on sale. It's stimulating the economy of Rivers' End, so surely it's no bad thing for him to be picking up various gifts and trinkets! The only issue is that Sancho has to keep one hand free for his cane, so when he gets a few too many parcels to carry under one arm he opts to hand them off to his companion.

"Right, take this."

Maybe you are his official attendant, and you're resigned to the duty of pack mule. Or maybe Sancho's attendant has gotten waylaid, and the blind man has mistaken an innocent passerby for someone who's supposed to be carrying his stuff.

2b. Divination
At some point during the day, Sancho comes to a halt. Nearby, tucked in between two merchants selling herbs and flowers, is a fortune teller's booth. The fortune teller has a theatrical quaver to their voice, which is still strong enough to call out to passers-by and tell them they can learn the secrets of the dead.

Sancho Cabrera smiles when he overhears the fortune teller's spiel, and it is not a very pleasant smile.

"How interesting," he remarks to the person next to him.

3. Mausoleum (cw: dead bodies, murder, medieval forensics)

Death is a constant in life, even when times are merry, and so the work of the Lady's priests is never done.

There is a cool stone chamber underneath the temple of the Lady where dead bodies can be kept, the cold and dark preserving them for just a bit longer than they otherwise would survive. This is useful for their investigations, as it's not practical to have Sancho temporarily revive a spirit every time the cause of death isn't immediately obvious. This mausoleum has seen quite a few dimly-lit autopsies over the years.

That isn't today's goal, however. Instead, Sancho is leading a guest down the cellar steps, into the heart of the mausoleum. He carries a candle in one hand, solely for the benefit of his guest. If he were alone there'd be no point in wasting the candle.

The body is laid out on a stone table, covered with a shroud. Sancho turns to his guest and holds out the candle. When they take it, he strides over to the body and lifts the corner of the shroud, exposing a greying face with glassy eyes staring at nothing. Their short-cropped hair is matted with dried blood.

"Do you recognize them?" he asks.

Wildcard Option

((Y'know how this works.))
grandparty: (welp)

Kinjiro Takehara | No. 1 Sentai Gozyuger | OTA

[personal profile] grandparty 2026-04-25 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
[Arrival]
Oh. OH. Kinjiro had a feeling this would be disorienting, but he didn't think things would be as bewildering as they're currently proving to be. For one thing, his clothing has changed to something he would ordinarily only be wearing while piloting Tega Sword. Definitely not anything he'd see as walking around clothing. For another thing, wow, this was a bustling sort of place, and there was a lot to take in even as he felt like he was sticking out. In many ways he was the picture of a youth from way, way out of town on his first big solo trip. He was looking this way and that as he tried to get his bearings, and between that and the distraction of why in the heck he was wearing these clothes, well. Something had to give. Farewell, situational awareness--Kinjiro's walking right into someone. "Oh! Sorry! Sorry! So sorry!" APOLOGY BOW APOLOGY BOW, CRAP.

[Food Vendors]
Kinjiro has rapidly identified a potential source of friction on this trip, and he's scanning the food stalls with one thing in mind. Not that what he's looking for is what he traditionally thinks of as festival food, but needs must. "Excuse me!" Grabbing someone nearby to ask a question seems like a good way to go. "Have you by chance seen anyone selling eggs?" IT'S IMPORTANT OKAY. Something occurs to him. "It's, uh, at the behest of my god, Tega Sword." Hell. Might as well. "He mandates that I eat them as a source of good nutrition." It isn't even a lie. He's hoping it just comes off as his being a growing boy with a god concerned for his welfare, versus an old man seeking to remain young through the power of egg.
defyingreality: (just eyes)

market

[personal profile] defyingreality 2026-04-25 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
"Can you perhaps repair silk?"

X clearly stood out, and not just because his outfit was far too foreign for this place. The Story had an equivalent version of China as a far away place, so he could at least dress in a traveler's hanfu of proper silks and cotton, with a proper bamboo umbrella - though clearly marked in cinnabar runes of good luck, charm, and trickery. And then there were the smoke quartz glasses he wore - gold inlaid with dancing cats around the round lens.

"I had a touch of bad luck on the road," he added in a sing-song voice. "Pity."
grandparty: (Excuse u)

2

[personal profile] grandparty 2026-04-25 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
[Kinjiro jumps at being approached. Was it the clothes? The piloting the giant robot clothes?]

I...you want to know about Tega Sword?

[It's out of his mouth before he can question things or otherwise stop himself.]
ohaiyo_isekai: (:smooth)

Re: Cinera/The Broken Paladin (Kaiisteron) - OTA

[personal profile] ohaiyo_isekai 2026-04-25 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
And here's this asshole writing the song down.

Charalampos is out in force at the Advocate's booth, bothering those who once served the Thing With Feathers with his nigh-endless prying questions again. Notably, he did bring peace offerings when he did - some of his inks and dyes and medicines, some of his paper and charcoal, some of his wife's thread and yarn, leather gear, and even some feathers from her hunting.

"It's lovely," he says. "Is it traditional?"
Edited 2026-04-25 02:49 (UTC)

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