lifeaftr | Exploration Event: Neverwere

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Exploration Event: Neverwere

EXPLORATION EVENT: NEVERWERE

Who: Everyone!
What: Your wildest dreams come true!
When: May 15th to May 18th
Where: Ziziphus, those still on Ensō...and Mu
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Then Know That My Life Was Just a Killer Dream
You can find most of the information you need in the OOC info post! In the meantime, feel free to use this log as a catch-all for your dream worlds, as well as detailing your efforts to free one another. Whether they're on Ziziphus or Ensō at the time of the dreams' capture, your character is free to access as many dreams as you like, as the interlocking mental landscape allows for that sort of crossing over apropos of nothing. And time, of course, is very fluid in dreams - many days, months, and years can transpire in a matter of mere minutes.

Will you fight your way free from Ziziphus's vines or Mu's thrall, or are you content to die in your sleep?

Remember to let us know if your character dies during this event!

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] May 15th: The vines make their move, ensnaring characters in ideal fantasy worlds
[ ♆ ] May 17th: The Storyteller will make contact with those they can, as well as issue information and a potential solution
[ ♆ ] May 18th: Those that have not freed themselves from the vines or from Mu will suffer a death

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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REN WITH KNIFE says a helpful and observant part of his genius wizard brain, and boy is none of this correct kitchen protocol even without the unconventional ingredients. He somehow quells his innate tendency toward drama and doesn't squawk or make any startling moves at all, lest she spook and drop a knife into all their feet. Or just make an egg mess. It's just weird because why would he have such an ingrained instinct for not startling Ren? Kid's probably hard to spook, why wouldn't she be.

He drops a bunch of fridge nonsense on a counter and plucks the knife from her heathen hands, in a graceful and nonjudgmental way, because it's fine. So many disasters to avert, so little time.

Next on the list-- "If we put the frosting in the omelette what are we gonna dip chips in?" Because look, funfetti omelette isn't about to become a thing, as much as he hates to disappoint her. And he really must hate the idea, why else would her happy ear flutters strike him as both Very Good and Incorrect.

"Also you can't tell anyone about chips and funfetti or no one's going to trust me with food ever again," he says in a rush, not hitting the verbal spacebar so much as once.

She doesn't know whether to be offended he's taking away her items because the rules of finders keepers is so ingrained in her for some reason or grateful he's accepting her help by nabbing said items. It's a struggle and she's won over by chip dip funfetti. It's a good compromise-she doesn't know how a sugar covered omelette would taste, though her faith in her uncle's cooking ability surpasses whatever stars Lup is currently zooming by. He could do it.

"I won't." She will. Immediately. Probably after making [5] seconds of eye contact with the next person she sees. She hasn't even tasted it yet, but she's excited and has to spread that joy. Turning on her heel, she keeps the couple eggs held against her chest, like the best kind of chicken protector. She's got this. Just ignore all the erratic motions she's making-it's fine. Also ignore that egg she almost drops to the ground mid-where is the spatula spin, she caught it. It's in the past.

"Do you make fun things like this all the time?" Is the next Big Q. "A 'porridge of holding' and 'chocolate cake of holding'-do you make those things even when you're alone?" Which is a weird thing to say because he shouldn't be by himself. It's wrong and something in her heart starts to ache at the thought of it. It's never been any different and nothing about this happy moment should make her want to ask don't you want to be with us? Because things are good the way they are-everyone's living in their own world, content as can be.

But the thought is impossible to shake once it takes hold and come stay with us turns into-"You can spend the night at our house next time. We'll make something fun for you too." An open invitation for a reason she can't pinpoint, but she feels better having said it.

Mmm well the egg juggling is hard to ignore, as are her food suggestions, because those actually have considerable potential, honestly. Death by Chocolate? Broke. Everyone has that. He wouldn't be caught dead ordering it. Chocolate Cake of Holding? Woke, next level, put that on the list forthfuckinwith.

He doesn't intend to ignore her invitation, either. It's the same kind of bafflingly charming as her bag of nonsense he's going to get roped into ooh'ing and aah'ing politely over later. It's not unreasonable in the slightest. He almost joked about the couchsurfing he'd have to do if he fell from grace over frito-frosting based snack inventions, just a minute ago.

He just doesn't. It's not. He gathers bowl and whisk in a daze, puts them on her part of the counter because obviously the breaking and stirring is the fun part. ~~And the eggs will be better for having sat a bit while they chop.~~

"Yeah, alright. Might-- Dunno when schedules will, you know, line up," he hedges, but not insincerely. People who think space missions are hard to schedule around have never worked in a kitchen. He doesn't want to get her hopes up, and doesn't want to examine that in the slightest. "But I'll definitely take you up on that. I mean, eating food I didn't have to make? Shit, where do I sign."

Those words are enough to latch on and she ignores the scheduling problems for the easily solvable cooking issue. She can't do anything about the restaurant business save for pestering her uncle about his vacation time, looking up the hours on a frequent basis and hoping it shuts down for remodeling. It's not like space sister would mind him coming over-it might make her happier, even.

She eyes the bowl and whisk with a sudden intensity because if she can learn how to cook now, he might be ready to leave this behind. There's a surge of hope that comes from his uncertain words because she's going to find a way to-

"I'll learn to cook this week, so you'll come home."

The words feel right, even if she can't figure out the origin of their meaning. "You can show me all the things you like to eat, and I'll give you something to sign-" The eggs go right by the bowl, no longer being tossed around her arms in her excitement, and she hurries to open every door and cabinet until she finds a paper napkin. "Like this. You'll put 'Uncle Taako' right here."

But until that time comes, she shoves it right into her gross leaf filled pocket. Come on, chef. She's ready to learn. She even grabs a whisk for their adventure. Give her a job!!

This has gone beyond charming and into-- into something else, that he can't readily identify. Which is weird, because he's fairly emotionally adroit. Grief?? Lllloyalty??? Are those things? He tilts an ear back, perplexed and profoundly--something, but declines to comment on that specifically. Are contracts on napkins even legally binding?

"A week, huh. Guess we better get started then." He keeps most of the Doubt out of his voice. Was she always supposed to be here a week?

Sure, whatever, it's as good a goal as any, for all its unachieveability. Her motivations might not stand up to any logic based scrutiny, but more skills never hurt. Come to think of it, he's not sure why this is one she doesn't have.

"Just, uh, crack those eggs into a bowl," he says, sounding more like he's negotiating a hostage situation than giving instructions. "And then you can get your whisk on. Gently."

A week is about to turn into a couple once Lup comes back and she's able to fully explain the situation. His sister would see the importance of what's going on here. She has to stay until whipping up breakfast, lunch and dinner becomes second nature and he'll have no reason to stay here.

And it's probably good she's taking things this seriously, especially now that they've moved to this delicate egg cracking task. Somehow, she already knows how to do this without slamming the egg against the counter. Crack, crack, in the bowl the bowl they go, with only a tiny bit of shell that she helpfully picks out with her gross hands. Mmmmm good.

Why walk to a trashcan, when her pocket is pretty much the same thing? Something, something clean as you go. She's too distracted by figuring out how she's going to split her room up to worry about what goopy eggs can do to clothes. Welcome to her pocket, old shells. They fit perfectly and now she can definitely get her whisk on.

"I'll give you the side with the window, so you can look up at the pretty stars," WHISKING INTENSIFIES as she muses aloud the best way to fit him in a room originally meant for [1] teenage girl. "It makes me happy, so you'll be happy too. If you look really close, you can see Lup too. Her kind heart finds you, even when she's very far away, and it helps you sleep at night."

Which, obviously, is inheckinpossible, but don't Crush Her.

The Taako of this ostensibly kinder and gentler reality doesn't have any kind of background for dealing with this type of insanity. It's all happening so fast, grimy hands in eggs and eggshells in pockets and starry windows that will apparently afford him an avenue to his sister's kind heart even while she's in space. No??? To all of that??? Not at all??

Does Ren struggle with sleeping at night? He does and doesn't remember having that problem. It doesn't feel like a new dilemma. Did he always have it, or only after--? He'd love to dwell on that, but there's just so much here.

"Ren," he starts, with his best and most reasonable, reasoning voice, "You can't just stash an entire wizard in your room like a stray cat." Ren, please. He laughs, but it's uncertain, because he doesn't know how to tackle the rest of this, and he hesitates to say anything that might be too crushingly realistic. But self actualized people don't lie to orphans either. Which she isn't? But just on principle.

"It's...good that you want to learn, we can do that, we can make that like a recurring thing, even," Is what he lands on. "I can pull some strings, I'll visit more." He's really negotiating now. And then, an inspiration.

"People here like my food, it makes them happy. You don't want to take that away, right?"

You can't just stash an entire wizard in your room he says. And yet, she's ready to face the challenge head on, rearranging her life to easily fit him in. He's the missing piece to a puzzle she didn't realize was entirely incomplete and minor inconveniences of splitting her room in half are outweighed by his presence alone. How does this not make sense to him? He's understood her since day one-

Day one being-when? Her ears slope down, then up, as she tries to work through the timeline of their life together, feeling like there's more than what she remembers off the top of her head. It all blends together into some weird, vague memory. But if there's anything to come from this, it's the high interest rate he just agreed to.

"No, they'll miss you too. You make everyone happy." She relents. Dang, it's called a commute, Uncle Taako, everyone does it. Though this is the closest she's gotten to winning since the cooking adventure started. The napkin gets pulled out and she hurries to her bag, turning it upside down to dump everything over the floor to find a pencil? pen? something to write with. Time the sign the dotted line, heathen. Her writing is terrible, whether it's indistinguishable because of the messy way she throws down the terms and conditions or just being unable to spell-who knows. The contents are a mystery.

"Okay, now you can sign this thing. You have to visit more and when I'm very good at cooking, you'll live with us. That's what it says." That's what part of it says, at least. There's a bit more-fine print? It looks like a scribble so ignore it, most people do.

You make everyone happy sure is a thing, and he feels a lot of things in turn at hearing it. Not all of them good. Why wouldn't they be, why's that phrasing stray dangerously close to some kind of pitfall? He doesn't have time to work on that, not when Ren is emptying a catastrophe of garbage out of her bag in the interest of some kind of contractual entrapment.

Said contract is, of course, pretty illegible. He struggles, and it's almost like the words won't stay put, more than that they were written by a scheming goblin hand. All this, for what? Has he just somehow neglected his family and this is a wakeup call? Surely not.

"I'd ask where you got this kinda legal sense, but I already know," he says, a little absently, as he scrutinizes the 'contract,' shaking his head. In wonder, not refusal; Ren is every bit as full of surprises as she's been-- well, always.

He signs, with a shrug and a flourish; it's no more legible than her writing, but that's to be expected, too. What kind of autograph is readable, handwriting is for plebs, and that's too ingrained to even question. "Didn't know this was a business visit, very tricky, Ren. What's got you so pressed for Taako Time, anyway? Maybe it's Lup you should be trying to talk out of a job." Poor kid, must be lonely with all her family so successful, why didn't he think of that. See, this is why she needs a sibling, obviously. He'll keep an eye out.

Maybe she was an elf lawyer in a past life. A terrible one because while some people wear their heart on their sleeve, her heart's all in the ears and they flit back and forth as she anxiously awaits his fate to be signed off, hands held up to accept the contract back. Good thing the fine print wasn't an issue-it detailed his family interest rate, which he'll come to regret one day. It pretty much said he would stay in her room-whoops. Heck you, she can stash a wizard wherever she wants now.

"It doesn't feel the same. When she's gone, it doesn't hurt and I can feel her heart even when she's very far away. Sometimes I can't feel yours at all. That's not how it's supposed to be," The supposed to be is hard to put into words. They should be closer. She should be here far more often than she is. They should be close enough to share a tent under the stars with everyone in the family because it feels like they aren't separated by only distance sometimes. There's something intangible forcing Taako Time to the wayside and she hates it. "I think our hearts don't reach you here either. It makes this place feel very lonely. That kind of thing can hurt you."

Making her a big sister wouldn't change that. Keeping Lup home certainly wouldn't. It begins and ends with Uncle Taako and he doesn't get it. It's not a matter of shoving other kids in her path, though she would welcome additions to the family in the blink of an eye, and use them as tiny assistants to help get more Taako Time. There'd be two horrible gremlins trying to bring him back to Lup's house then. Best to avoid that route if he values his peace and quiet.

She's right, he doesn't get it. It's not that he can't comprehend being loved, or can't really, truly internalize it. It just. He doesn't know why it's not enough for her, this set-up. This is how it's done, right? Life? Life with no circumstances that require banding together? Normalcy?

And there's that heart talk again, a familiar...if not mystery...at the least a puzzle. These are familiar thoughts: that she's using metaphors in an awfully concrete sounding way, and that maybe he should finally abandon his "no prying" policy. But it's just so easy to chalk it up to the idiomatic oddness in her language, as uniquely her as her ear movements-- Ren has her own accent, regardless of medium, and that should strike him as stranger than it does. Where'd she get it?

Regardless, he hates this. Ren shouldn't be hurt by his absence, or anything else. Nor should she be anywhere near so matter of fact in saying that loneliness can hurt him. He could actually stand here the rest of the day enumerating things he didn't like about that speech. For her sake particularly. But that won't solve the problem, whatever it is.

"Well, I'm glad you're looking out for your poor idiot uncle," he tries with delicate humor. He isn't entirely sure how this is his fault, but the feeling that it is is undeniable, and unfamiliar. He's good at things, including family, right? Like the normal amount? He can't shake this unease fully, though he definitely means to try. "So consider it taken under advisement, and your consulting fee will be paid in frosting. Sound good?"

When Taako says the magic word, the tension from the conversation vanishes into the air, as if she didn't spend the last few minutes trying to trick him into starting a new life in her closet. This is really all she can ask for-his verbal agreement, the acknowledgement she's trying to help, and frosting. She hopes it's funfetti, for some reason. The actual taste is impossible to recall, but she knows it's fun and that's a flavor that appeals to her.

"I'll always look out for you and reach for your heart. That's what an apprentice does," The word makes her ears slope down, then back up, in what probably isn't a rare display of confusion from her. Back up, exchange that word for-"That's what a niece does?"

It's a question. Then she quietly repeats it as a statement before ignoring it entirely. The word doesn't matter, so long as the sentiment comes across, but she can't shake the feeling both were right to begin with.

Anyway, the more important issue? Her fee? She's gonna collect it herself, thanks. Not that she doesn't trust Taako or think he'll skimp her payment, but the unerring law of finders keepers is at play and she's gotten express permission to find it. Once the jar's in her hands, it's hers. For good. Where the heck is it? If it's not premade in a cabinet somewhere, her entire plan falls apart. "You can make that stuff while I find the fee, then we can share it. I'll look for two spoons."

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Exploration Event: Neverwere

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