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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!]
no subject
...okay, it was foolish to assume that just because of the main thrust being R&J adjacent, that it couldn't borrow from more of the bard. Mistaken identity and doppelgangers weren't strictly from Verona, but this is Montica.
Still. A hell of a thing to see someone watch their own shadow with nary a
Fucking goddamn it this is Mei. This is Mei Torioi, Whose Best Friend Is A Flake Who Thinks She's In Love With Him, from a different set of fucking Stacks chasing her own shadow - one that's as much as a glutton for bishoujo as berries. No WONDER she's both watching and in the okami yurizoku.
One day he'll learn that Claire had said of her 'bullshit, you rate at least Tybalt' and laugh his ass off, but today, Hikaru isn't in the mood. Still. He wouldn't miss the rest of Kasane Fucking Teto Does The Bard now for all the gold in Delvar's horde, with such an interesting player and patron to watch.
They don't sell popcorn here, but he will get some fucking wine.]
no subject
[Amalia, in the audience, leans forward, shocked at what she's just learned. Her other self had retreated here? To the theater!? Why? She did not dare to imagine such an obvious place to go to ground, and yet, after long and pained searches in every unlikely place, a full moon and more, there she stands, on the stage!]
[But slowly, she relaxes. She cannot shift here; she must retain her composure. And there's something to the thought of living on that stage. Would that her station allowed!]
no subject
Well met in Montica, madame. Such talented players upon the stage... though is this troupe always quite so bawdy in their themes?
[Light chatter at first. That attempt at being gallant and speaking Gallente-ly.]
no subject
[She pauses. nods.]
No, you're definitely a visitor. I think we would have met before now if you're a fan of bawdy humor and strange relations.
[She stands up and is nearly six feet tall and... Would be vivacious, save where all that vivacity likely is]
I have been a patron of this place for some time, you see; my name is Amalia Hunter. And yourself?
no subject
[Five years of college shakespeare and 25 of nonstop tabletop teaches a man to improvise a character on the fly.]
And I did not say I minded bawdy humor or strange relations, merely that I did not expect something quite like the tale we are told. Lesser actors would reduce it to bathos, I should think. But the Blood Moon Troupe has... haha, this prosaic practice of depravity has suspended this innocent above his disbelief, you know?
[Hey, if everyone else is plagiarizing Jaime P...]
no subject
[Now her smile turns genuine, a simple satisfaction at having continued to fund the place so long.]
But of course. Shall I convey your praises to the playwright?
[Ah, when she said patron, she meant Patron, as in, footing a good portion of the bill.]
no subject
[And her shadow, a dream of disinhibited dancing on the stage. Or in the back of John Haycart, perhaps. That tracks for An Mei.]
I would, but also I would know the names of the wordsmiths who forged this comedy.
no subject
[Including the arts-- but not exclusive to them. She will not brag to anyone that she is welcome all across the city, but that she can and has been seen wandering among the streets glinting silver speaks for itself.]
As for the wrights, sir, they are one Claire Ryefield and one Sara Iskandar. Members of the troupe, but I find myself pleasantly surprised every time they do not fall prey to the usual such politics.
no subject
Hikaru does wish he and this story would be better strangers.]
I... see. You may tell them that a Vampire of Beauforte found the story largely accurate and sympathetic to his kindred, though we are not quite so quick to drink of each other as the script pretends. Still, I will forgive it as a metaphor for deeper intimacy.
no subject
[She pauses, strokes her chin.]
I know you speak only for yourself, of course, but...
Well enough to play before the Manor in a few nights?
[Oh no. she has a Plan.]
no subject
I am of Beauforte, madame. The feud is strange to me. Who knows what other customs I would not know?
But I know someone who might be a better judge of what would play well to the house of Umbra.
no subject
Test the waters, please. I have no desire to offend the leader of the Umbra, except perhaps by my presence.
[She pauses.]
And more than that-- the clan's feelings on these skirmishes, more than the sire's.
[Ah, now her ambition is slowly being laid bare. She might go too far.]
Of course, no need to risk yourself over it.
no subject
The lowest rung of the silver ladder and the second highest share your benevolent ambitions. Armin the Fool and the Scion, Nero, of the most humble Umbral house. I have met both, by good fortune I'll not squander, madam Hunter.
I do seem to have a talent for meeting people of importance, no?
no subject
[Again, 'Old', not 'Fool'. It seems Amalia respects Armin more than she lets on.]
[And this last, a bit quieter:]
And Nero himself...?
[She might actually get something good for the city out of this!]
[Of course, the biggest obstacle there is...]
[Robert. Who is fifty years old-- young for a pack leader-- and herself almost too young to take top spot. Worse, if she's seen as running to the vampires for help... No. No, she can't ask them to ally directly. but...]
You do! Nero especially. Why, last i heard he was forbidden from fraternizing-- it's why I didn't bother to invite him, it would be thumbing the nose.
no subject
no subject
[She pauses.]
[Well she knows that her sorcery made up a good portion of her skill in combat. If she cannot regain her shadow, she would have to start from scratch. She daren't approach her father with that mark on her. Not yet.]
I believe, visitor, you are sent by blessed Luna, for now we have a plan.
no subject
no subject
[Then, more conspiratorial--]
... Are we of a kind, then? Only, I am a chemist of some small skill...
[A bit impolite to say, but if Lucas needed the help, best to signal.]
no subject
…of course she is, she’s Mei Fucking Torioi, who possesses the Will to Evolve.]
…I have already fully waned from a certain fullness, and this body is now no longer new. Still, if you’re an apothecary girls trust to discreetly prescribe mares-salts, I’d talk shop with you, so others might shed ill-fitting mantles.
[And, out loud:]
Well met indeed by moonlight. I hope to earn your friendship ere I leave for home.
no subject
Perhaps, though, we should find a better place to meet next.
no subject
[And he is now immensely grateful that Ser Dunk, no lunk, had thought to ask after it.]
Given the nomes de amour of your players, I suspect you might understand me when I tell you it is guiles, a cog 13-spoked d’or, around an inverted hourglass proper. I like to think it signifies my studies of philosphy natural and supernatural, the mind of a poet and a mechanist. But perhaps I am flattering myself, no?
no subject
[... A hunter of birds. Of course.]
Thank you, for this consideration. I shall endeavor not to ruin you for it.
[... At least she's not clutching iron when she says it.]