Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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unfinishedlibrary2026-01-23 06:56 pm
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-01-23 06:56 pm
Entry tags:
- arcane: vikor,
- blade runner: kd6-3.7,
- claymore: cassandra the dusteater,
- dead boy detectives: charles rowland,
- devil summoner raidou kuzunoha: raidou k,
- legend of zelda botw: link,
- maidensong magica: claire ryland,
- persona 5: sumire yoshizawa,
- the murderbot diaries: murderbot,
- the wonders of mundus: hikaru aozora,
- the wonders of mundus: siobahn greenwood,
- tortall: hisako godsup,
- warhammer: roboute guilliman,
- ~moonlit rivals
perhaps you have learned it without a book - MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 1
Who: Readers and Actors galore!
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!
First Quarter Moon
Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.
Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.
(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)
In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.
Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.
The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.
The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.
To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.
To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.
No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.
It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.
Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.
Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.
The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.
Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.
During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.
On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.
Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.
[The info/plotting post can be found here!]
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!
First Quarter Moon
Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.
Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.
(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)
Our Beginning
The Story begins as night makes its transition to morning. Montica is a city that never sleeps, and some Editors may find themselves taken aback at how the absence of sunlight has done nothing to deter the nightlife.In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.
Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.
The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.
Welcome to Montica
Montica itself is a city built from stone, with the buildings packed closely together along cobblestone streets. Flowering vines creep along trellises, their gentle fragrance perfuming the air. The sky is clear and smog-free, the water flows cleanly, and a sense of magic drifts comfortably in the breeze.The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.
To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.
To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.
No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.
It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.
The Market
At the centre of the city are Montica’s most dreary buildings. Markets are held here during the day, bright banners and exuberant stallholders calling out their wares. People of all kinds shop here, and it’s the best place to find quality goods. Some patrons give each-other hearty side-eyes, some sneer and mutter insults under their breath - but by and large, this a neutral zone, and the regular citizens treat it as such.Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.
Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.
The Umbra Mansion
The sprawling building stands tall, overlooking the city of Montica. Vines budding with fragrant flowers grow up the sides of the building, curling around windowsills and balconies in a curated fashion. A large hedge maze sits at the rear of the mansion, behind the grand ballroom; and the gardeners are in top form today, brandishing tools at anyone who looks like they're about to enter it. It's one of many things being tidied up and decorated for the ball, so you'd better not get in their way.The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.
Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.
During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.
On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.
Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.
[The info/plotting post can be found here!]
Demiel (Demure) | Actor (Vampire)
The Mansion
Demiel was almost at a loss for what to do with himself. The preparations for the Masquerade were going on at breakneck speed- while no one was outright running, the pace everything was happening at was positively dizzying. Even during the evening, there seemed no end to the tasks. For him, the hubbub was a bit overwhelming. Crowds always seemed to be for him- his mother had waved it off as simply a delicate constitution and thought nothing more of it, and he'd learned to cope by burying himself in hobbies, or in studies. People weren't quite so overwhelming when there was a harp between he and them after all.
But he wasn't one of the ones playing for the Masquerade. So he'd have to actually be engaged with the other guests. He'd been a vampire for a couple years now, but to such long-lived creatures that was hardly any time at all, so he still had to work to keep building a good reputation amongst them.
And with the gardeners fending off any and all who might have taken refuge in the hedge maze, Demiel was forced to turn his attention back into the Mansion for something to take his mind off of his nerves. There were a couple places one might find him in this case.
Careful observation led him to find a small alcove where the servants seemed finished arranging and he could keep from being underfoot- he perched at a small table there, and as often was the case when he was unsettled, he wound up shuffling a familiar deck of cards. He'd gotten a bit of a reputation- he'd been willing enough to do tarot readings for those who wanted them, and while he always assured his 'patrons' that it was simply a bit of fun, it had become known that those gilded cards held truths and insights he couldn't have known. And while it had been here and there, considered a fluke at first? The rate of 'true' readings had been slowly but steadily growing in number. Not that Demiel seemed to realize that, glancing up if someone slowed or lingered near him, offering a shy smile. "Evening. Care for a draw?"
Otherwise he'd be found in one of the salons off the ballroom proper. Not a new thing, the young vampire could often be found in here on his free time. The reason being the tall harp he was settled behind, focus entirely on the strings and teasing a pensive sort of melody from them. And as anyone who knew him would be aware? There was no way he'd realize should someone else come into the room. It would be easy to startle him, if someone wasn't of a mind to announce their presence!
The Market
The market? Not a place one found Demiel often, if at all. He tended to steer clear of the neutral zone- not out of any sort of dislike of it, or of the people, but the conflict was...
He couldn't be dragged into turf wars if he wasn't there when they sparked could he? And if he wasn't there, and didn't hesitate to fight, then he clearly couldn't be a disappointment that would reflect poorly on the family that had raised him. Not that most of the other vampires expected him to fight, he clearly didn't have the temperament, and aside from the general vampiric skills, didn't seem to be developing any powers that would lend well to such endeavors.
But he'd been busy in the alchemy lab, practicing blending a poultice that Viktor had set him to perfecting, and upon discovering that their stores of globeblossom was empty? Well, the servants were far too busy to bother with a thing like that. And it was night regardless. So Demiel thought little of jotting a quick note of where he'd gone should Viktor come looking for him, plucked down a light cloak, and headed out.
The blossom was easy enough to get enough of, and the herbalist wasn't crowded this evening which meant that the errand was finished quickly enough, leaving Demiel free to observe the market at large. He kept his cloak tucked around him, not out of any chill, but rather to make it not quite so obvious what he was- he didn't want to spark an incident. And he likely should just go straight back to the mansion, and get back to his studies, but... surely looking wouldn't hurt? Especially not if his meandering eventually ended up back home.
Decided, he seemed to settle somewhat, curious gaze sliding over the various stalls, taking in the medley of masks on offer, the bright displays of dresses and suits in the windows.
"...I hadn't realized just how much preparation goes into a single night," Demiel wasn't really speaking to anyone in particular, clear enough in the softer murmur of his tone, but he seemed friendly enough all the same. "It's all a bit overwhelming."
Wildcard
(Want something else with him? Feel free to drop a starter, or hit me up at
NOTE FOR THE TAROT PROMPT: I am absolutely here for doing actual spreads for characters- if you want something specific to come up let me know, or I'll just wing it! I might cap this if I get a lot of takers, just fyi.)
The Market
She examines each of the packets in turn-- one might determine the missing active ingredient from the filler of luneflower, ardor-root, the strange, nearly translucent blades of soulgrass.
She fair to pulses with brilliant life. This, then, Amalia, of the previous top pack. "And you seem to be getting used to your new life. Demiel, wasn't it?"
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His gaze lifted at the greeting, once his own packet of blossoms was tucked away in his satchel. A blink of dark eyes before they widened subtly as he recognized who he was speaking with.
"Ah- yes, that's correct Miss Amelia," His smile was a quiet thing, a bit sheepish. "It's quite the adjustment to be sure, but I like to think I've managed so far."
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She leans over, slightly conspiratorial. "What news, from the Mansion, if news you may tell?"
By which she means, what news from last night's skirmish. It's the one thing that would make her day complete; every objective marked off, and then retire to a pleasant evening at the theater and thence her quarters.
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And despite factions, it was true enough. He wasn't the sort to cozy up to people for ulterior motives. Maybe it meant he wouldn't ever climb very high politically, but he didn't seem the sort who was concerned with such things.
"Well... if you'll join me for tea, I'll be happy to share what gossip fell into my web in exchange." Something to keep him away from the busy mansion for a bit longer? He'd not turn it down. And maybe it would help perk Amalia up as well.
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She orders fruit, and a red tea, though she does not require that Demiel take the same.
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"Well, I'll be happy to take up some of that time if you're going to let me get away with it. It's been some time after all."
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Re: Demiel (Demure) | Actor (Vampire)
“If you’ll indulge me. Demiel, was it? Well met. I would enquire after… a great work I am embarking on.”
Namely, preventing the cold war getting hot.
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"That is correct. You would be Lucas then yes? A pleasure to meet you."
The shuffle of cards became a bit more purposeful, pale brows lifting lightly at the inquiry his new companion was making. He couldn't help but huff a soft little laugh.
"Goodness, not one to think small!" The deck was cut, reshuffled, deft hands turning cards facedown across the table, five in a neat row. All black with gold embossed linework. "Tap the farthest card on your right for me would you? Need to give Fate's threads a little tug so to speak."
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He dutifully touches the indicated card, even exhaling as he does so - a curious thing for a vampire to do. In fact, Lucas seems to continually, cyclically breathe, despite technically not needing to in order to sustain his unlife.
https://silkwaltz.dreamwidth.org/file/3562.png
Besides, they had the cards to focus on. Maybe after he'd inquire. But for now, he'd flip the first card that Lucas had tapped, humming softly in consideration.
"Temperance. If... this is as large an undertaking as your words hint at, it's not entirely surprising that this would come up for the nature of it," Demiel explained, some nervousness in him easing slightly. This was familiar enough territory for him after all. "You could think of it as akin to alchemy in characteristic... a work of balance. Trying to mix forces that don't tend to go together easily, stabilizing them with care and measure. Not a thing you can rush, lest the whole thing blow up in your face."
"Though-" He can't help a sheepish smile, and a tilt of his head. "Something tells me you already know that part."
Re: https://silkwaltz.dreamwidth.org/file/3562.png
...He hopes that joke goes over as well here, but...
"Ah... I used to travel with a creature called a gumiho, foxlike, who played the fool. That joke was hers. But never mind." He shakes his head. "I don't know very much about cartomancy, but for a spread to be all Majors... bodes."
Ill or well? Demiel would know better. But it sure fucking bodes.
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"I've not heard that one! Quite the clever bit of wordplay though."
And honestly? Lucas was right. Demiel hadn't yet really thought about how it was indeed all Majors, but now that it had been pointed out? Yeah, it absolutely fuckin boded something alright.
"You're right in that. But I suppose it makes sense. If what we're looking into has such stakes, it is hardly a surprise to see the cards being... emphatic about things," But he wasn't about to rush through this, especially not if it was something so important. "The Moon as the obstacle. It speaks to... old tales. Stories and superstitions and inherited fears all passed down until they're indistinguishable from truth."
He thought it over, a finger idly running along a glossy gold line. "The greatest obstacle to your work isn't an external enemy perse. It's more... mistrust and emotions masquerading as wisdom. Not people acting out of malice, but traditions never questioned. That sort of thing... it makes what Temperance brought up all the more keenly necessary. Emotions are messy things after all, especially wrapped up in fears and traditions."
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That his great work will be reconcilation with the werewolves.
"...some other aspects of the task at hand. I pray thee continue."
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"The High Priestess. Your role in this... isn't the hero at center stage. You're the one who knows things. When to share. When to be silent. That's where your power lies. Patience, secrecy, trust in intuition over force. In what you choose to reveal, balanced with knowing when to withhold and allow others to think a thing was their own idea," A faint, wry smile. "Oh, it's all tying together nicely so far isn't it? The Moon for the obstacle, and here, should you step into it's light too soon, you become a target, and your work fails."
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It's all things that he should have already known, being highlighted. And yet. There is a part of him wondering if Demiel has genuine power, something like a tWoM Psychic's farseeing.
He quotes something: "Thus did Athena become so like Mentor as to fool both eye and ear... do continue, this has been illuminating. And thank you."
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"Consequences for failure... dramatic as Major draws can be, it's hardly surprising to see it be Death, is it?" Oh, if only Demiel knew. "Normally I'd caveat that it doesn't always mean a real death. That so often it's a metaphorical thing, a great change. But here... whatever happens. Whatever this work is, there is a line being crossed here. After it's crossed, things cannot return to what they were. This is... there are echoes of another story here. One where love, pride, haste-"
A gentle tap of a finger against each of the previous three cards in turn.
"Brought ruin. Turned conflict into something more dire. More painful and permanent. This... it's not a discomfort or a rough lesson. This card isn't threatening though. It's simply... a reminder. That what you're doing, if it fails, something precious ends. Forever. And it's absence irrevocably shapes what remains after."
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"I will... try to remember that it is not necessarily literal death, but rather just another rotation of the Wheel."
Wait. That's a Buddhist thing. That's - surely part of the same mystic traditions that makes him speak of 5 elements and not 4 to Lord Umbra and Lord Nero. He tries to relax.
"I should not be so nervy. Thank you, and let's move on."
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Or as hopeful a note as there could be. This seemed... a complex sort of situation given how many cards here are 'Don't Rush Things' and 'Be Patient.'
"As far as outcomes go... the Star is the likely one, should things go as you're hoping. It's... not some great grand thing. It's more... gentle. More about... erasing inevitability, leaving room for healing. For new stories that don't have to follow the script of the old. If this works, it might not feel like victory. It'll feel like... oh things stop getting worse. And that's probably the win.
You're not here to defy fate, really- you're here to make it miss it's cue."
Demiel blinks as the last bit sinks in, can't help how his face darkens subtly as he lets out a sheepish laugh. "Apologies- that last part was a bit melodramatic of me, wasn't it? Major draws bring out the dramatist in me, clearly."
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"...it's that way, is it? When the hope of starlight starts to fade in me, I should not let darkness have it's way with me."
Then he laughs, relieved.
"I shall remember to keep the hope of starlight in my heart. Well met by it, and may your omens be infalliable and true. Or at the least, good to keep in mind. I shall not be giving in tonight. My sincere thanks."
He bows, formally.
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