perhaps you have learned it without a book - MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 1

[libraryassistants]

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!)

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!]

Comments

[ugh_emotions]

(SecUnit isn't looking at them when they let the glamour fall. But the drone is, having drifted closer to stare. That is weird.)

Then it makes a face. Yeah, it doesn't care about boring human card games, and it absolutely has no desire to start cleaning things.

"I'm fine. I have media," it says. No new ones, unfortunately, because this planet sucks. But it's still got some serials downloaded from the last Story world that it can watch. Then it pauses.

Does Illumination know what it is? It didn't see them hanging around when it was...offline. For a moment its tempted to keep up the ruse, keep pretending that it's human.

But that's not going to work anymore.

"...I don't sleep," it says. It's face twists briefly with conflicted emotions. "At all."

[noonlight]

"You'd think that the library would at least make sure we had something to read." Soon, once they have time and energy, they will head out into the city and return with whatever is good to read. Is this a city with public libraries or are they still on a private system?

"That's alright." A pause. They cock their head, breathe deeply, and look it over from head to toe. "Are you separate from your familiars? I would apologize if it's rude to ask, but I'm not particularly sorry about it. You're welcome to ask me any thing you care to."

"And, of course, tell me nothing, should you wish to. Although, I would like to know what I ought to call you."

[ugh_emotions]

It frowns. "My familiars?" (What the fuck were familiars?)

Then there's a pause, before it says, "SecUnit." Because fuck it, might as well at this point. "Except in front of the Story people. Then call me Rin."

Then it waits, tense, for them to reply. Do they know what a SecUnit is? Do they know enough to be afraid?

[noonlight]

"The little flying fellows. If I saw them at home, I'd call them constructs, but they're far more delicate than any I've met before." In Yesh my-Ayin, there are the first curious rumblings that some constructs might be conscious, and those in the know are well aware that it's more than a rumour.

"And it is good to know your name, SecUnit." There's no fear there, and no recognition either. "I'll work both names into the wards, just in case."

[ugh_emotions]

It doesn't manage to suppress the face it makes at the word constructs.

Yeah, that word definitely means something to it.

"They're not constructs," it says. "They're drones." But it can't quite bring itself to say, It's me, I'm the construct.

[noonlight]

"Apologies, dear. I'm used to using that word for all life built from shaped material - cloth, metal, clay, fabric, and so on." Again, it is not a concept that troubles them. Drones are a comfortable idea. Homey, even.

"I won't misuse it again."

[ugh_emotions]

"...They're not alive."

They're not even bots. Just tiny mechanical devices, that need something else to control them. Without input from SecUnit, the only thing they could do was continue on with their last orders.

(Its face is still doing things. They clearly have an entirely different definition of the word 'construct', but it doesn't really want to correct them. The last thing it wants to do is to get into further discussion about exactly what a construct is. (Which was, it knew, stupid. It already introduced itself as SecUnit.))

"Your...magic thing," it says, in what is transparently an attempt to chance the subject. "Can it hide scents?"

[noonlight]

"Yes, I can hide, change, or just make something uninteresting." Each has pros and cons, but depending on what SecUnit would like, it's possible.

"I can't today. I've spent too much of myself with the wards, but once they settled, and that should be tomorrow, I can start on the problem." They're already mentally sketching out how to build on its natural scent. Or maybe just find a mimic? "Are the wolves giving you grief?"

[ugh_emotions]

(Make something uninteresting? Could SecUnit get that for like, forever? It really likes the sound of that one.)

"...They found where I was staying. Twice." And it looks deeply displeased about this. "Do your wards hide scents?"

Because if they don't, it might have to try and hide somewhere else until she can do her thing again. It doesn't want to risk jeopardising her hide-out just because werewolves keep being nosy about how it smells.

[noonlight]

"I don't smell human either, and that's why I'm taking the time to layer the magic. First, to encourage folk to walk on, then, if they come closer, to hide what's inside, and finally to stall intruders." With a sigh, Lu leans against the counter. It's been a lot of effort and if they hadn't done similar things back home, working out all the castings would be even worse.

"If you need to run, there's a partially collapsed smuggler's door into the sewers, and if you want to hole up away from the entrance, you can take any room you like."

Whatever Lu's life was like before the Library, it appears that this need to camouflage themselves has been ingrained into them.

[ugh_emotions]

SecUnit relaxes, just a little. Okay. So maybe it would be safe.

Not that it wasn't going to take its own precautions. Really, when it comes the need to camouflage oneself, SecUnit could relation.

"...I have other drones watching the perimeter," it says. "They'll alert me if anyone approaches."

[noonlight]

"That's good to hear. What I can do is limited to just the physical walls of the building - if someone is standing and staring across the lane, I don't really have any way of knowing that we're due for company." SecUnit isn't the only one that relaxes there. It's a tough lot to try and do it all by one's self.

"Thank you, for making the trek over here, and I'll leave you in peace while I go finish up for the day."

[ugh_emotions]

It nods. It's still a bit...weird, being thanked. Even though its Preservation humans thank it all the time, it still doesn't feel normal. And it never knows how to respond.

Then it walks over to an unused chair, sits on it in a deliberate slouch, and starts watching media. (Though to Illumination, it's going to look like SecUnit is just staring at the wall.)

[noonlight]

With a hum, Illumination takes their gear upstairs to finish their work. Once done with the wards, there's a rattle in the kitchen - tea, bread, cheese - and then they return to the front room to sleep. It's exhausting work and they're glad to have another body to keep watch while they rest.

Assuming that their house guest doesn't instigate a lny conversation, Lu is happy to remain silent. After a solid six hours of unconsciousness, another meal, and a significant amount of very strong, astringent tea, they're ready to work on SecUnit's charm.

[ugh_emotions]

SecUnit absolutely does not initiate conversation. And after a solid six hours, it also hasn't moved. It's still on the same chair, still staring at the wall. In fact it doesn't even seem to react to Illumination entering the room at all.

But one of the drones that's stationed inside does swivel to stare at them.

[noonlight]

The drones are not alive, but that's not going to stop Lu from wishing it a good morning. Their own summoned familiars or the hound are 'beings' in the standard sense, but they'll still talk to them just the same.

"I can't promise this will work, but I will do what I can. At some point, I will likely need to touch you, to mark you with a sigil, but nothing invasive. Alright?"

[ugh_emotions]

They wouldn't be the first person to talk to the drones. Though usually, when its humans do so, it's because they're really talking to SecUnit. It's not sure if that's what Illumination is doing, or if they still think that the drones are alive.

When they say they're going to need to touch it, it's not exactly thrilled about it. It can understand that it's necessary. But at the mention of being marked, there's a flash of alarm on its face.

"Mark me with what?" it says, as its organic parts twist. What exactly was a sigil? It didn't want to be marked with anything.

[noonlight]

"Easy now, easy. Nothing permanent, nothing painful. I need a way for the spell to 'stick', and a sigil made from ink or oil works well enough." They gesture to the doorframe and if the drone would like to take a look, there's chalk markings above and around the casing.

"If that doesn't work for you, I can try something else, but it's more difficult, more prone to failure, and I'll....I could use sympathetic magics, make you smell exactly like another person." Illumination is already mentally working out how to get what they'd need. "It's more dangerous. If they're afraid or angry or anything else really, and you're visibly not matching it, that's likely to spook a wolf."

[ugh_emotions]

The drone doesn't need to look; it had already noted those strange markings earlier. SecUnit just hadn't realised what they meant. It hadn't realised that something similar would need to be on it.

(Its expression is flickering through a series of complicated emotions. It doesn't want to be marked. It doesn't want anything like a symbol to be on it, even temporarily. But it also doesn't want werewolves to keep finding it, keep smelling that it isn't human.)

"Does it need to be...on me?" it says, trying to wrestle its expression under control. "Can't it be on something else? Something I can put in my pockets?"

[noonlight]

"Possible, but significantly less effective. It won't hide you, personally, but can make a stink that'll keep everyone at a distance." There are ways to make a physical token that can chance a person's scent, but Illumination doesn't know how to do that. They're fairly sure that on a long enough timeline they could tease out the principles of the thing, but here and now? No.

"Your options are either a sigil so you smell utterly uninteresting and vaguely human, or a charm in your pocket so you'll smell like a tannery. It's the best I can do."

[ugh_emotions]

Its face twists. Smell like a tannery (whatever that was)? It didn't like that idea either. Humans always noticed other humans that smelled excessively bad. SecUnit didn't want to be noticed.

Shit. Shit.

"The...sigil. What substance would you draw it in?" it says. It looks like it's about to be sick. It hates this.

(Up near the ceiling, the drone is staring at the sigil. It's not exactly like a logo. But isn't not completely not like a logo either. Could it really tolerate willingly allowing something like that to be put on it? Even temporarily?)

[noonlight]

"Charcoal would be best. I'd make a paste of it, and the sigil itself would be no bigger than the palm of your hand, and you could choose where to put it." Illumination can see the discomfort rolling off it, and they don't know if or how to offer comfort. "Truly though, darling, if you can't bear it, give me time and I'll work on something else."

"Or, if you can, you can tell me what is the particular problem with the idea, and we can work together, to try to find a way around the worst aspect."

[ugh_emotions]

Charcoal. That wasn't something that wouldn't come off. It wouldn't be permanent. So that would be...fine. It was fine.

(It was not fine.)

"I don't want symbols on me," it finds itself saying. But if symbols were going to keep werewolves from sniffing it out everyone, it was going to have to suck it up. "I want to see one on you. I want to see it come off."

[noonlight]

"We can do that. I can show you exactly the one I use on myself, and that with minor adjustments will work for you." As Illumination speaks, they get up and gather their supplies - a dish, a bit of charcoal from the kitchen, a little bottle of a neutral oil, and a handful of other, equally mundane items. (Along with a bowl of water, soap, and a rag for later.)

"Do you want to know how it works or is it enough that it does?" SecUnit can ask anything of Illumination, and generally speaking, they'll either answer honestly or say that they refuse to speak on it. There's little point in lying to another from the Library; after all, this isn't Yesh my-Ayin.

[ugh_emotions]

The drone flies down from the ceiling, and starts following Illumination around. It gets right up in their space, watching closely everything they are doing. (SecUnit, though, is still sitting on the chair, not looking at them. And in fact, it has episode 167 of Sanctuary Moon playing, just to help calm itself down.)

"...I guess," it says making a face. It doesn't really care about 'magic', which was bullshit, or how it worked. But since apparently some magic was going to going to put on it, it did want to know exactly what was being done.