lifeaftr | February Undercurrent: Behind the Curtain

February Undercurrent: Behind the Curtain

FEBRUARY UNDERCURRENT

Who: Everyone!
What: A sea of clouds in the moonlight...
When: February 3rd to February 15th
Where: The Floating Islands above Ensō
Warnings: Please mark anything as it comes up!

The Earth is Spinning

Far above all your heads, suspended impossibly over Ensō, there is a scattered collection of strange floating islands. Almost two years ago, adventurers had the opportunity to visit them when the heat of the phoenix-sun of LifeAftr burned away the clouds that shielded them. This time, it will be Water that gusts those clouds to the side - clouds are, after all, a form of water. Once more, these islands will become accessible. Just like before, all islands are accessible via mana pool - but those of you capable of flight will be able to reach them without needing those helping hands.

Additionally, the islands will be hanging very low over Ensō, casting noticeable shadows over much of the landmass, and parts of them will be trailing to the ground. Ladders, long tresses of ivy and vines, and ropes hang off the edges of these islands to brush against Ensō's floor, to make for easy climbing. You might also find that some of these trailing protrusions might take a more...active approach. If someone walks by, you might very well find yourself grabbed by these vines or ladders and more or less hoisted up to the floating islands, whether that was your intention or not. It's almost like they want you up there, for whatever reason.

This time, these islands will not be subject to the whims and desires of the islanders. The landscape will not shift to accommodate your memories and thoughts. This time, when travelers reach the islands, they will find that they have formed into four distinct locations. Each of the four islands are separate and more or less their own small patch of land, visible but quite isolated from all the rest.

Just like before, the mana pools will be more than slightly glitchy for the duration of this event - it is entirely possible that someone simply attempting to travel by them, or stay near them to rejuvenate their energies will find themselves whisked up into the landmasses hovering in the sky. It seems that these islands have an inherent effect on the mana pool network.

The Water will communicate to all adventurers in whatever way possible that they are strongly advised to visit the islands above, if they seek answers. Those who pass near bodies of water on any island will likely hear the Water's quiet urging to do just that. Though even if they don't listen, there's every chance that they might end up there anyway!

So what are the islands up here like, this go around? Funny you should ask...

The Island of Stone This first island is the biggest of the five, and also the most central. It is the one you are most likely to end up upon if you travel here by accident. Much of it is comprised of a terrain of earth and stone. The upper clouds frequently gust through the area, lending it a strange and otherworldly look.

Immediately behind the mana pool, travelers will see a large carving mounted on a stone dais. It appears to be in the shape of a bear, carved from oak wood. Its eyes are set with a pair of emeralds. Below it is written a name: ZEMJIN.

On this island, travelers will find what essentially amounts of a great deal of building blocks. Almost all of them are different types of earth and rock - from sandstone to fired clay to granite to obsidian to even some of your less common materials, such as iron or titanium or gold - and a great variety of sizes and shapes.

Each of these blocks defy ordinary size and weight restraints; as long as they remain on the island, virtually anyone can pick them up and move them around as you please, regardless of how much you should be capable of lifting. You can build tall structures of diamond or small huts from marble - the only limit is your imagination!

Well, that and reason. If any of your building materials fall off the island, they'll almost immediately dissipate into nothingness. However, there's nothing stopping you from building a bridge to another island...and that'd work, too.

The Island of Color This island is one of the most striking, as once one sets foot on it, they will note that it's almost entirely devoid of color. At least, all the solid parts of it are. The island hosts broad boulders, grassy meadows, beautiful trees...but they're all in shades of gray and white, save for the spot just behind the mana pool.

There, travelers will see a small statue mounted on a stone dais. It appears to be in the shape of a seal, a delicate shape made from expertly carved and polished sunstone. All around it, bright golden marigold flowers are in full bloom. Below it is written a name: JARUSKA.

Further inspection reveals that the island isn't entirely colorless. In fact, all over the island, one can find deep wells that look as though they might contain water. Instead, they contain color, in every shade imaginable. One simply has to lower the bucket into the well, concentrating on the color they'd like to see, and when hoisting it up, they'll find it filled to the brim with it. The wells are lined with buckets and primitive, oddly skeletal tools with which one can use to decorate this island to their heart's desire.

Fill in the empty outlines! Use inks and powders to breathe new life into this monochrome land! The entire space is your blank canvas, and you don't even have to indulge in conventionality - you can very well make the grass pink and the trees blue if you like.

The only real drawback is the capacity of these colors to stain. They're rather inconveniently bright and tend to glow, and only sustained scrubbing will remove them. The color tends to bleed into whatever you touch, if you don't do a thorough enough job of washing all that away, even if you depart this place.

What's more? You can use these colors to paint new structures into place. You can paint new trees, new flowers, new anything of any color you like. Such as, say...a bridge to another island.

The Island of Stars This island is among the most striking, and will probably be quite visible from a distance. Once one sets foot upon it, it'll be obvious why: the landscape here looks like an inverted night sky. The ground is a deep, swirled pool of blues and purples and blacks, stippled with bright pinpricks. It looks very much like you're standing on the night sky itself.

Immediately behind the mana pool, travelers will see a small statue mounted on a stone dais. It is in the shape of a turtle, an artfully crafted likeness made from the deep indigo blue of polished iolite. Thready blooms of red-and-green tillandsia sprout about it in colorful abandon. Below it is written a name: TSAMAYAR.

All around this island, twisting pathways, roads, and tunnels unravel in and around the starry landscape. Some are simplistic, and look like they are made of ordinary (if strangely celestial) gravel. Others are made of dark, paved stone. Still others look a little like they're cobbled with fancier materials, such as polished obsidian or marble.

And all over, you'll be able to find a vast collection of rather primitive but nonetheless fully functional bicycles, scooters, skateboards, and other forms of self-powered travel. And unlike any of the other islands, if you manage to get these vehicles off the island somehow, and back to Ensō fully intact? You can keep them.

It's no Rainbow Road, but it can make for a beautiful place to ride a bike, take a load off, and simply take in the sights. And, at some point, you might realize that you recognize some of the stars set into the ground. Maybe some of them are constellations you know. And what could that mean, exactly...?

The Island of Webs The final island is the most mysterious, and potentially the most off-putting. It's thick with mist and fog, and almost everything is dead and black, as though all of its color has been sapped away. Only this place doesn't have any colorful pools of ink and dyes to bring luster and life back to its scenery; it is simply bereft.

Immediately behind the mana pool, travelers will see a small statue mounted on a stone dais. It appears to be in the delicate likeness of a spider that has been carved from the rainbow blue-greens of labradorite. All around the statue, heavy twines of ivy have climbed up along the dais and threaded around the spider's legs. Below it is written a name: OSORU.

The most obvious and probably unnerving aspect of this island are the thick webs that hang from almost every surface. Almost everything is draped in limp, dead trailings of a whitish material that seems almost silklike. It isn't sticky; travelers can touch and handle it easily, to no ill effect. More unsettling is likely to be the buildings that can be found on this place - for they are all almost certainly ones that many of you will recognize.

The Storyteller's Temple. Chunks of the city of Ai'tuoh. A windmill from Nuidan. Parts of the sunken city of Tempide, and so many others. All structures that were found in LifeAftr in varying stages of ruin - now in pristine condition. They look as neat and tidy as if they were just constructed, though all are empty.

Perhaps even worse is the fact that those weblike strands seem to have a life of their own. As the days progress, they start to slither toward the island's very edge, straining to try and reach the other islands. You can help them, if you wish, by building or painting bridges between those islands and this one. Because, as it happens, this appears to be what this place wants more than anything - to draw all these separate pieces together, into one cohesive whole.

If you wish to fully uncover the secrets of this island, please let us know if you are interested in NPC interaction in the subject line of your top-level.

Your Eyes are Shining in the Glittering Light

Of course, there's a lot going on in the background as well. You're free to use this log as a catch-all for the duration of February's Undercurrent Event, as well as any of the other minor events listed on our Monthly Rundown post. And, of course, you are always free to create your own individual logs and posts as needed.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them over on the Questions header on our Monthly Rundown post!

February Timeline

[ ♆ ] February 1st: "Free Real Estate" begins and lasts until February 5th
[ ♆ ] February 3rd: "Behind the Curtain" begins and lasts until February 15th
[ ♆ ] February 6th: "No Yan is an Island" begins and lasts until February 12th
[ ♆ ] February 13th: "A Rainbow, Not a Painbow" begins and lasts until February 29th
[ ♆ ] February 16th: "The Sound Resounds" begins and lasts until February 27th

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a useless gesture, really, as they're both already well soaked by the rain, though neither of them seem too preoccupied by it. In fact, Aziraphale doesn't even seem too concerned with the idea that someone might see his wings, although that really doesn't hold any weight here to begin with - the real remarkable detail is that he's not doing a bound of pointless fussing.

He smiles at demon, pristine white wing still held over his head. "It may well be a little late for that." Still, he folds his other wing to his back, and moves along to keep Crowley covered until they get in.

It might be useless, but it's still very sweet, and Crowley feels just a bit more warm under that wing, metaphorically speaking. He leads the angel inside their cottage. Inside, he quickly removes his soaked shirt, wringing it out in the door way and then draping it over his makeshift table to dry. He grabs a blanket from their bed and wraps himself with it, shivering just slightly.

"Are you cold? Bit chilly from all this rain, isn't it?" he asks calmly, making his way to the fireplace. Luckily from the whole table-crafting incident, there was still a pile of wood scraps and logs. Crowley began assembling pieces of wood within it, "How do you feel about a fire on such a dreary night?"

Aziraphale is happy to be inside, even if these cob houses don't tend to be very warm, and his clothes are well soaked after walking all the way here. And yet, no fussing. No real complain. Even as he examines his wings, but folds them and dismisses them rather than even begin to try to dry them.

"Oh, that sounds heavenly." A nice fire, the sound of the rain. He can feel himself warm up just by the sound of it.

He looks down at his worn, old vest, figuring he should put it up to dry. Poor thing might not handle that much of a harsh treatment, not while Aziraphale's miracles are as limited as they are now. So he takes it off carefully, setting it neatly off the side of the table to dry.

"Quite the deluge out there, isn't it?"

Crowley tugs the blanket a little tighter around him, carefully layering pieces of wood to allow for air to feed the fire.

"Hm. Yes, well, so much for island vacation." Crowley replies in jest, miracling a lighter to his hands. "Oh! Grab a handful of hay, will you? Need some kindling..."

"Of course." And he does just that, plucking a healthy handful of hay from their makeshift bed, and meeting the demon over at the fire place. Only then does he notice how his hand shivers from the cold, seeping into his body the longer they go without a fire.

"The most familiar the weather's been in months."

Crowley accepts the hay graciously, stuffing it into his little log tower, then angling some more sticks of wood around it. He notices the angel shivering, and once he's lit the kindling beneath the logs with his miracle-lighter, turns to face Aziraphale with some concern.

"You're not wrong, " he starts, looking lost in thought for a moment, his face brightens up with an idea, "Angel, let me make you a dry shirt. You're shivering."

"Oh, I'm alright." He smiles sheepishly. Not quite accurate but polite enough, the usual. He is indeed missing two of his many layers of clothes, and what he does have is soaked and chilly. They should probably look into possibly getting other clothes...which would unfortunately mean dealing with the lack of variety again.

"Don't think it's worth wasting your powers on that." Even though he could go with a nice warm cardigan right now.

Crowley takes a seat beside the fire, bundled in his blanket, and gives the angel an almost irritated look. Barely irritated... like please don't kill my buzz irritated.

"It's not a waste, it's for you-- You're not a waste. Come here." he waves Aziraphale over in front of the fire. "What would you like... another shirt? A jumper? Pick something or I'll pick for you."

Yes, that was a threat.

And Aziraphale knows it's not an empty threat, too.

He steps over, taking a seat next to Crowley, awaiting the welcoming heat of the fire.

"Well..." He thinks. " Maybe a jumper." He really is quite cold, and he dreads to think what Crowley might come up with if the angel subjects himself to Crowley's own devices.

With the snap of his fingers, a jumper appears in his hands, Aziraphale's favorite color scheme respected in its creation. Crowley passes it to Aziraphale carefully, still trying to keep his blanket snug around his torso.

"It'll only last a day, I think. Don't grow too attached."

The flames in the fireplace have caught on nicely and began to grow, and Crowley appreciates the way the heat licks at his face. He discards his glasses to the side, nestling into a comfortable position.

Aziraphale takes the jumper, smiling faintly over how soft and comfortable it looks, and perhaps vaguely thankful that Crowley didn't take the opportunity to make something that looks ridiculous. Not that he expected that of the demon, of course...

"Thank you." He mutters, taking a moment to glance about, thinking, and deciding to just turn away in his seat to set about taking off his shirt and trading it for the warmer piece of clothing. Modesty is important, mind. He does miss just being able to snap his fingers or do some unnecessary flourish of his hand to just do things instantly, and not having to deal with clothes getting worn or dirty, but, alas, no other choice but to get used to it.

He slips the jumper on, and already feels so much better. In a quiet moment, he looks at the fire, listens to the rain, looks over at Crowley with a soft, calm look.

"This really isn't so bad. Rather lovely, actually."

Crowley keeps his gaze on the fire as Aziraphale changes. He doesn't quite understand the need for modesty, but he respects the angel's desire for it, so instead, idly runs his fingers through his own wet hair, untangling it and shaking any access water out of it. The fire is quite nice, and dual-purpose; as the sky darkens from the storm the fire provides both heat and light, casting their modest little hut in warm hues and interesting shadows. Crowley finds it all quite comforting. That said, it's not a surprise to him that Aziraphale finds it similarly relaxing.

He turns to face the angel, watching how the light reflects off of him and the embers from the fire reflect in his eyes, and Crowley feels a sort of warmth creeping from his ears that the fire alone hasn't brought on. He nods in response, his hands gripping his blanket tight.

"Quite nice, yeah."

As the storm progresses, the light of day is almost entirely gone. A sleepy darkness takes over the inside of the hut, and the relaxing sounds from both the rain and the fire roar on with no other interruption for miles. He almost wishes they had music, his whole gramophone and some records. Maybe some Mozart. It all actually does make him miss the London weather.

He watches the demon for a moment, soft smile ever-present, and for a moment or two, he just lingers. Just until he catches himself staring for a bit too long, and directs his eyes back to the fire and rubbing his hands to get them warm.

"Would you like some tea?" As softly as he asks, it almost feels too loud, in the stillness around them.

Crowley himself doesn't think any look from Aziraphale is too long. He could stare for ages if no one stopped him, and it wasn't until the angel's voice broke the silence that he'd snapped out of whatever dreamy daze he'd been in.

"Tea, yes, of course." he croaked, shifting slightly to search for the kettle.

But Crowley stares. That's what he does. A snake thing, he suspects. He can't tell what he's looking at from behind his sunglasses half the time.

But it's not just the staring, or self imposed etiquette. There's something else there, hanging in the air, and it's not just the heat of the fire.

Aziraphale looks around, too, spotting the kettle. "Ah. Here we are." Muttering to himself for the most part, leaving his seat to go and get started on that tea.

He still feels that something, even when he's not looking.

Aziraphale's instinct to move so quickly in search of the kettle threw him off, but Crowley pushed it out of his mind. He was much too calm to be concerned about it, a symptom he would later discover was a result of the rain still dripping from his hair.

The cabin was warming up nicely, and Crowley felt comfortable wrapped up before the fire. He could think of a couple of things that could make him more comfortable, one being the addition of tea, which the angel was already busying himself with, and the other, well, he wouldn't mind if Aziraphale returned to his side. Some of the best sleep he'd had since arrival on the island was curled up beside his corporation, soaking in the warmth he gave off.

"Do you need any help?" he asked, softly.

He doesn’t feel nervous, per say. He feels like he should Feel nervous, which is strange, like a missing piece of such a familiar row of scenes, but even while he’s busying himself with the tea, he isn’t really rushing. Not moving about too fast, not fussing, not pacing. He’s...calm, still, but some things are so ingrained in how he’s always functioned, that even the absence of his usual tension doesn’t stop him from dancing around the elephant in the room. Elephants. In this very small room. Made smaller by how close they’ve been, closer than ever, in a few different aspects.

Aziraphale smiles over at Crowley again, and that absence of scared uncertainty is fairly visible. He’s not running away. He’s just making them some tea.

“It’s alright, I’ve got it.” And he sets the kettle over the fire, getting the little clay cups ready. “It’s getting quite dark.”

Crowley nods, watching the light from outside dimming through the windows. The fire picked up it's slack, so Crowley did not mourn the loss of daylight. He tucks inside his blanket, a mild bubbling of insecurity within him, something easy to push aside in his current state, but he was still aware of it's presence.

"Getting late. I don't usually mess with the garden til early evening anyway, when the sun isn't as hot." he took a deep breath, "They could use the water. A bit longer and we might have homegrown food, no more of that mush from Denny."

“Can hardly wait. Had quite enough of whatever that is.” He moves back to his previous spot as he talks, sitting back down to wait for the water to boil. Neat and straight, hands folded on his lap.

“There should be more in Nuidan as well, I’m guessing. I don't suppose the actual greens there have necessarily the same effects as the banquet that one time.” Although he’d still be a bit...cautious, this time. So many things have their way with people’s consciousnesses and bodies, often out of the blue, it’s hard not to be at least a bit paranoid.

"The more we plant here, the less we have to scavage for. If you're headed there make sure to get me something with seeds or roots." he muses, turning to face the angel again. "Please be careful, though, going about by yourself."

This isn't said as any sort of order or anything, just, well, Crowley worries of course, though he rarely admits to it. He's made spears for catching fish, though his early attempts at it were too embarrassing for him to even bring up.

"Have you ever caught a fish before? We should give it a try."

He looks at Crowley, a silent glance heavy with meaning, a very faint smile to him when the demon expresses his worry. It’s not unexpected, but he still does appreciate the care.

“I have no intention of putting myself in danger.” He says, turning his eyes to the fire again, lacking in any defensiveness, with perhaps with a little bit of gentle teasing to his tone. They can’t do much about danger, with the way it pops up. But he’s really had his fair share of adventures and consequences to last him for a good while, if you were to ask him.

“Fishing?” He looks at him again, curious.

Crowley chuckles softly, watching Aziraphale's expression change. "Good, I don't have the same ability to pop in as and save the day that I used to."

But that's besides the point. "Right, well, seems like the safest bet for meat around here. I made some tools for it but... well, just wondering if you have experience."

Does Aziraphale have any experience in gathering any kind of resources, specially the living kind? Granted they’ve been on earth since the beginning, but he’s really only used to partaking in food others prepare, or...miracling it into existence.

“Er, no, unfortunately not.” A beat. “Do you?”

Edited (Fucking iPad ) 2020-02-17 17:51 (UTC)

Aziraphale gets a scoff in return. Not in any offended sort of way, but it's humorous to anyone that Crowley would have ever done anything he didn't have to. "No," he replies, "Do I look like the fishing type?" he asks, amusedly.

The whistling of the kettle saves him from continuing that conversation any further, and Crowley hops up at the sound.

"I've got it."

Aziraphale begins to stand, but ends up settling back down, watching the demon go about. This is nice. This is still nice, despite all of the context around it. He could do with more days like this.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” He speaks up after a moment of silence. “Having to do this sort of thing. Have to admit I’m not quite used to it all yet.”

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

The pining in this hut

LET THEM.

I AM BUT THEY'RE TERRIBLE

THEY'RE WONDERFUL.

I have to say that the mental image of crowley trying to go spear fishing is glorious