[EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

[ironwood]

Characters: ALL!
Date: December 8, 2015 (with some starters for the following weeks)
Location: Keeliai, the Midnight Hotel, others
Situation: The Foreigners have awakened.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

They've been in the Dreaming for so long that when they wake up their bodies feel more like automatons, alien and ill-fitting. They haven’t atrophied, thanks to Milyn, but they’re stiff and a little bedsore, and the solidity of the Life Plane is jarring. Here, the surroundings don’t move on a whim. Here the world is more stable, almost harsh and unyielding in spite of the homey surrounds.

It’s been a year, says the clock on the mantle and on the second floor. Says Milyn, too, when she’s able to stop hugging them long enough to speak.

Nothing much has changed in the Midnight Hotel. There are dishes out of place, objects belonging to either Milyn or Eva in evidence, the diorama exactly where it had been but now brightly-painted thanks to Milyn's boredom. Milyn and Eva took a room each, in the time the Foreigners were sleeping, though neither used them much.

Eva’s upstairs, Milyn will tell anyone who asks. In her room.

Eva hasn't left that room in three days. She hasn't spoken in three days, either, or walked, or moved, or breathed. Her effects are neatly arranged around her bed, and the sheet has been pulled up. There is heavy incense in the room and Milyn has managed to preserve the body enough to remove the risk of too much mess (and other things). In a way, that makes it worse: as though Eva is sleeping. It’s difficult to tell whether Milyn is in denial or whether spending three days with no one to talk to other than sleeping Foreigners and a corpse has had its influence.

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LINKS
Dreaming log | Foreigner's Awakening (Hotel) | Milyn’s Relief | Exploring Keeliai | Old & New Faces (Canon Updates/New Arrivals) | OOC: State of the Shell

Comments

[skeletonenigma]

The question of Asti's potential death was one Skulduggery had only had a few days to consider, but it didn't take him nearly that long to realise the investigation would take months. "Ireland-sized," he said, "might be a little more accurate than island-sized. From what I can tell, the only reason anyone thinks he might still be alive is that they can't imagine him being dead. We're drifting through the life-current, not swimming."

It was only a matter of time before they would hit an underwater reef, or the jagged edge of a landmass.

China's answer was exactly what Skulduggery expected, and it still surprised him enough to sit forward. "I'm not sure. What tools do you need, apart from a scalpel?"

[inkulcation]

"Hm," China said, and nothing more, turning over the idea thoughtfully. Size did present an issue, but whether the turtle lived or not was something that merited ascertaining. Preferably before it hit something.

In a moment she raised her eyebrows at him, skeptical, and if his surprise bemused her a little, she had enough of her equilibrium back not to show it. "A scalpel," she repeated. "A small, precise blade, sharp enough to cut into bone with little to no resistance. As it is, I'll have to alter whatever you find; I doubt anything here will have the quality I want. In addition, a good lens, and I would prefer to have ink as well, but can ultimately do without." It was Skulduggery, after all.

[skeletonenigma]

Skulduggery laughed. "If there's one thing they have in quantity here," he said, "it's ink. You've seen all of the paper lanterns. I'll assume black or white, unless you've decided to experiment with colour in the past few minutes."

The scalpel would be easy enough to find, especially if China could refine it further, and the Metalworkers would probably be able to sell Skulduggery a small, quality lens. He did so love when plans formed themselves, however simple and ultimately unhelpful those plans turned out to be.

[inkulcation]

"Colour has a time and a place." And as far as China was concerned, that place was not in her tattoos; it was a variable that did not need to be toyed with. "Very well, acquire those for me and I shall fix whatever you've done to your facade." It was not even a question that somehow the problem was Skulduggery's fault.

It would be nice to know exactly what the problem was, but getting a closer look at it would wait till she had that lens, since there was little point in examining it if she might not be able to discern the detail unaided. And her own tattoos were still curiously quiescent.