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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!]
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Where to take her? Suffice to say, he's still not a fan of brother-in-law. But his own place would be beyond scandalous.
"Harry, Charlie, even if she has a daughter she'll end up being named Tommy at this rate."
He starts walking, still not sure where to go. "'Oh, but Lucy," yes see, the truth comes out, the reason he's irritated with the cross-gender names. "'It's just short for Thomasina!' You're not helping anyone Harry," he growls having the imaginary argument in his head out loud with himself, but falsetto for fake Harriet.
"All right kiddo," his reflex was to call her princess, like he used to call Harriet, but it was too sad and ironic for Charlie, instead of poignant for the sister he always tried to enable (probably a bit too much to be honest.) "Where's the best place to get you to be safe?" He carefully boops her nose. Strong yes, dextrous not so much. But it's something you do with puppies that are being troublesome. When you don't just throw them in the river to get them to cool their heads anyway.
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It shouldn't surprise anyone that the werewolf who went from his father's most loyal dedicated soldier to declaring a failed rebellion all for the sake of his sister's doomed 'love' has trouble finding it in himself to give a care about status. Pride, yes. Optics, yes. Social rules? To be as flagrantly and frequently defied as possible. He still prides himself on manners, but he uses them less with family. A lot less. And Charlie might as well be for all his wolf instincts yelling about bigger packs are stronger packs. He still believes in some hierarchy, but it's based on strength and cunning. And he's still very much about how ends justify the means, especially for safety and/or expediency.
"My room then?" An absolutely feral wolf smirk, the sadism showing through at last, like he'd been hiding it all day. (He was!)
"Don't you dare say you don't want to sully my reputation." A haughty smirk, "Adding more human conquests helps, not hurts." Ahhh he's evil and trying not to hate himself. He would, he would absolutely hate himself if people started thinking he was kidnapping women to use and ditch. Oh so very much. And he doesn't like that he's playing into her traumas.
"Or would you like to suggest something more comfortable without the chains?" werewolf things, but he's not above chaining her to the bed so she can't collect more injuries tonight! "So I only have to go find one absurd woman at a time?" Hmmm to chain Harriet or no? Step 1: declare rebellion for sister's feedom. Step 2: fail. Step 3: Get exiled. Step 4: chain her anyway? Yeaaaah... probably not. Ugh.
Lucifer has no idea what he'll do if Charlie calls his bluff. He wishes he was a healer. Or omnipresent. Or wiser. Or less of a monster.
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"Yare yare. I can't exactly carry you and search." He says that, but he doesn't put her down, heading towards the river. "Will you at least promise to stay still if I need to transform and fight?" It's a losing battle. Leave it to his sister to find a human as stubborn and crazy as she is herself.
"Keep in mind, Miss maid," since she referred to herself like that, "Harriet is hardly fragile. Which pains me to admit." Extremely protective older brother hinges his identity on it. "But humans are." He pokes one if Charlie's cheeks. "I know you think you're a rottweiler the size of a horse for all your fearlessness, but if you get yourself injured again neither of us stand a chance of getting her to stop being reckless."
He stares off at the moon for a bit as if it will whisper its secrets to him and tell him how to solve everything. Lucifer sets her down gently, and huffs. He can't bring himself to give piggyback ride to a human. He just cannot.
"Let me make sure it's twisted, as you say, not broken. All right?" Big bad wolf bluff is over. His eyes are on hers, respectfully, waiting for consent to do anything more.
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And yes, she was utterly choosing to ignore the fragility part of his comment about her human state.
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Since she won't let him try to make sure it's only twisted, he acquiesces, but gives her an arm.
"Aside form her moonlight wanderings, how has everything been otherwise?"
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Charlie disliked needlework, but appreciated her change in situation enough to be glad of it because everything that came with it was an improvement.
Except for corsets.
She did wish she could wear male clothes in the house; rather just on nights like this when she was skulking about. It was ever so much more comfortable. But it didn't suit a lady of Harriet's standing for her maid to be so... slovenly.
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From context he assumes... embroidered. Okay then. "No, I leave her to her hobbies, and she leaves me to mine: gears and music. Sounds like you're not the only one who finds it boring though, and I don't mean me." Getting cooped up all day. BLEH.
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"Boring in a sturdy home, warm, and well fed is better by far than out on the streets," she said, rather than acknowledge that ha had the right of it. Admitting it so bluntly felt like complaining when she had so much to be grateful for. She preferred to focus on the grateful part.
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Lucifer has an intense surge of affection for her at that, just literally trying not to tail wag openly. "Oh Charlie..." happy and sad all at once. "Ask for better. It's okay to want more. Don't settle, just because what you've known was so awful." If he could give people the world.... he'd have to split himself in half, dedicate one of himself to pure justice, and then only those who worked harder than him -- okay not harder, but using himself as a benchmark to get closer to that bar would have all wrongs righted. Still, he gently squeezes around her shoulders, "Thank you." He means it. More than words can convey.
"I always worry I'm not doing enough." Well when you go from obscene wealth to just trying to keep your head above water and still tug your puppy siblings to shore...
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