May Adventure: I Want to Go Where Everyone Goes

[lifeaftr_mods]

NEW ISLAND: IO

Who: Everyone!
What: Io appears!
When: May 10th and onward
Where: Io
Warnings: The possibility of drug use and alcohol may come up. Otherwise, tag as you go!

Things Are Shaping Up to Be Pretty Odd
As of May 10th, the mana pools on Ensō and its islets will now allow for travel to Io. Though you could always opt for sailing, if you wanted. As we mentioned on the island's introductory post, no exploration is necessary! The island is small enough and easily traversed, and with a minimum of dangers, you have plenty of time to visit each of Io's six draws.

The temple is the easiest place to get in touch with the local avatar, though you can contact them just as easily by striking up a conversation with just about any honeybee you see in the vicinity. The lazy drone of them can be heard all over the island, though they're quite complacent, and not at all prone to disturbing adventurers. The temple itself is twined with grapevines and smothered with inlays of rubies, proud and sparkling. Inside, it smells of honey and wine, and seems to exhibit a naturally contented glow. Just outside, numerous fruit trees sprout all about the temple's courtyard, to be sampled at your leisure.

The bathhouses are located just south of the temple, and are prime locations for some rest and relaxation. Bathe, swim, take a spa day! There are innumerable rooms to do exactly that, and more space than be reasonably filled by some sixty-or-seventy people. Or maybe you're interested in getting absolutely sloshed instead. The vineyard is perfect for that, located to Io's northeast on one of its long, tapering peninsulas. Rows upon rows of grapevines lead up to the crown jewel of the region: a proud winery with enough goods to satisfy even the most parched.

For those less keen on mind-altering substances, the tea gardens are a far safer bet. They practically emanate tranquility, with their soft paper lanterns, thickets of tea trees, and a tea room with a seemingly endless supply of every supplement to your drink that you could ask for. And if none of the teabags or tea leaves in there suit your preference, you're free to wander about the gardens yourself and sample whatever you like.

The Honeycomb at the island's heart is much more akin to a play structure or jungle gym than anything else, but its interlocking passageways and erratic, hexagonal architecture aren't for nothing. It's an ideal spot for play or exercise, if you're into that kind of thing - or for getting positively sick on honey sticks.

The campsites ensure that you don't truly have to depart from Io, if you don't want to. Tents full of chairs and cushions and blankets make it a wonderful place to spend the night if you're so inclined, and the lockers full of food and drink are assurances that you won't go hungry. And with all these massive bonfires and firework cannons, why would you ever want to leave?

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Welcome to the island of Io! Please, enjoy your stay and make full use of this island's many faculties! For further information in regards to the island, or plotting, the following links may prove handy:

[ ♆ ] OOC info and introductory post
[ ♆ ] Io on the Locations page

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[the_archivist]

Different... ages? Like... you physically changed? Or thought you were older or younger?

[He can't help it he needs to know. He only just manages to bite down the hum on his lips that wants to make this stranger tell him everything.]

[counterblows]

Yep. Physically. It was not great.

[If you couldn't tell by the grimace.]

The Storyteller isn't immune to the shit that happens here, it turns out. People were getting older and younger all over the place, and apparently they got caught up in it.

[the_archivist]

Probably the only way anyone would believe my real age.

[Jon mutters this, a little amused, although the actual idea is sort of horrifying.]

Gods being affected though... suggests more... pantheonic Greek-myth style gods. Not exactly omnipotent all powerful creatures.

[counterblows]

Well, there are definitely a lot of them.

[His real age.Implies there's something going on there, though Wash isn't straightforward enough to just come out and say it. He doesn't have an end goal in mind for this conversation, doesn't have a set reason to go out and bluntly ask. Probably best.]

You dealt with that before?

[the_archivist]

[Jon looks thoughtful for a while, almost lost in thought before the man speaks again.]

Something like that. Um, I work for a place called the Magnus Institute. We research the esoteric and paranormal. Things crop up.

[counterblows]

You mentioned. Things like messing with your age?

[He doesn't love that. Didn't love that. That's the whole reason he's here, trying to ease some of the knots of tension sitting up against his back. It's a doomed effort, though. Nothing's going to ease a strain like that, something that's been parked there for years.]

[the_archivist]

[Jon gives him a surprised look, a confused look.]

No. Nothing like that. I just... the grey hair and scars and the perpetual exhaustion. People tend to peg me about a decade older than I am.

[He'd always been like that, but it's worse since he took the Archives job. Although there is a question of how ageing is going to work going on. Is he immortal now? Or just... very hard to kill?]

[counterblows]

I guess your lifestyle will do that to you.

[War, real war, that's what carves decades out of you, stitches perceived years in keloid tissue and bone. It's what's darkened Wash's roots to a muted gray.]

[It doesn't have to be war to leave an impact.]

[the_archivist]

Yes. Yes it definitely does.

[The fear never goes away. Even after the coma, after making the choice to become something Other, he's still scared.

He gives the man a small smile.]

I'm Jonathan Sims by the way. Jon.

[counterblows]

Washington.

[He dropped the "Agent" a long time ago. It's easier to avoid explaining it, and he's taking full advantage of the fact that he, and everyone else from home, aren't so much household names here. Or - whatever they came to be, back on Chorus.]

[It's awkward trying to manage a handshake in what is essentially a glorified hot tub, so Wash settles for a two-fingered salute.]

Most people go with "Wash."

[the_archivist]

Pleased to meet you. Jon is fine.

[He misses people using his name. Most new people he meets, well, they call him Archivist.

Washington... It's not that uncommon a name is it? Still, coincidence. He doesn't believe in those anymore.]

You don't know a person named Maine do you?

[counterblows]

[Well, son of a bitch.]

Friend of mine. [Teammate. Friend. A complication, snared in temporal streams and locked in a point just before everything well and truly went to hell.]

["Friend" covers that all pretty nicely.]

We're from the same place, I guess you could say.

[the_archivist]

He seems nice.

[He is pleased at having guessed, but now he's curious about the names. Can't be real.]

He helped me out.

[counterblows]

[Wash lurches on the spot with an ungainly splash of water as he manages to convert a snort into a forced coughing fit. Maine...he's heard a lot of different descriptors for Maine. Monster and scary motherfucker and animal and a thousand others besides. Nice has never, he can safely say, been one of them.]

How, uh, did he manage that?

[the_archivist]

[Jon gives Wash a concerned look when he starts to cough. Wonders if he should find some water for him.]

I was trapped in a save. Panicking a bit. Bad experience not long ago. He helped me out.

[counterblows]

I guess that would be, uh - nice of him.

[He's fine. It's fine. Makes sense he'd come to that conclusion, but most people, when confronted with the sizable mass that is Maine, don't just up and think: he seems nice.]

Dug you out, huh?

[the_archivist]

[Jon's standards for who seems nice have sadly fallen to somewhere around 'does not actually want to murder me' and 'doesn't look at me like they hate me'. Helping him is a happy bonus.]

We found our way through the tunnels. It was good to not be down there alone.

[counterblows]

[good lord jon]

You showed up underground or something?

[the_archivist]

Yes. A cave system. There was some kind of earthquake I think.

[counterblows]

That must've been back on Cahypdo. Place was prone to quakes and shit like that. Unless, uh -

Place wasn't in a dream, was it?

[the_archivist]

I think so. Or something like that anyway. I don't dream like that.

I take it that is a common occurrence as well?

[counterblows]

Lots of stuff happens in our dreams, it turns out. The local god's favorite way of communicating with us.

[Wash, for his part, isn't about to complain. It's a lot more benign than the typical nature of his dreams.]

[the_archivist]

That- that could get interesting.

[If the Storyteller is an aspect of the Beholding, it won't make any difference. If it's another god, well, his dreams already belong to one. He's not sure how that works.]

What kind of things?

[counterblows]

The Storyteller likes to...communicate that way. Easier for them than dialing up everybody on their rocks. Names of islands, names of people. When they want us to share our stories, that's how we do it.

[Like he said - easier than trying to get everyone together in the physical world.]

Place is called Mu.

[the_archivist]

Mu... the lost continent. Interesting...

[He supposes if this place is governed by a Storyteller god, it makes sense that it's named after a myth.]

When you tell your stories, what's it like? Are you compelled? Does it feel- unusually in depth and eloquent?