tushanshu_logs | LANDFALL | TAVIMBI

Entry tags:

LANDFALL | TAVIMBI | MARCH MINGLE LOG

Characters: ALL!
Date: March 1 - 31
Location: City of Hatal, Tavimbi
Situation: Tu Vishan is still anchored just off the coastline of Tavimbi, and the city of Hatal continues to welcome kedan and Foreigners alike.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

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The Tavimbians continue to be welcoming to their guests, and while Foreigners are still required to carry their issued pass stamps while in Hatal, they are starting to become recognized. The stamps are made of a brassy metal, a little larger than a credit card, and inscribed with their information, their date of arrival, and whether they've had any run-ins with the laws in Tavimbi (it will be stamped accordingly by the authorities if such happens.)

OOC: There are starters in the comments for various areas of Hatal, or you can use the rest of the post for anything on Tavimbi which doesn't fit under those headings. All city descriptions, as well as NPC contacts for threading, can be found in the Tavimbi OOC post, which is currently stickied in the OOC comm.

Be sure to also check the March Itinerary for up to date happenings in Hatal, and to tag this entry with your character tag when you join in.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's always managed to get away with the voice thing back home. Mostly because people saw with their eyes and not...however the heck it was Solomon saw. Plus the long he stays on the turtle, the more he realises people back in Paris were kind of oblivious. It's not a comforting thought.

Still, Plagg had laid down the rules, and he's not ready to give up his identity just yet. It may end up being pointless here, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. Maybe he can get away with it for a little while longer. Maybe.

"Maybe I have one of those voices, too."

His ring beeps again, three minutes, and he glances down at the tunnel. He needs to get away, let the transformation drop, but he also wants to stay behind. Help how he can. Solomon clearly knows who he is, and the temptation to stay is strong. To just be. But he can't. He needs to keep these two sides of his separate.

"Uh. I'm about to- change back. Into my secret identity, but once I come back I can use my staff to moves stuff about. It extends pretty far, and it can take a lot of weight. But power-wise? Only the destruction thing."

Solomon had to give the boy credit--most people, when confronted so bluntly, gave up. Adrien didn't. In recognition of that fact, he only said: "As you like, Monsieur Chat Noir. I'll still need a hand--and a set of eyes--so if you can't come back yourself be sure to send someone else."

As he spoke he wore a little amused smile, as though he was in on a joke Adrien hadn't meant to tell. That ought to be plausible deniability enough, in the event someone kept Chat Noir from returning.

Meanwhile, Solomon was going to try and plan out the best means of lifting some of this debris. If Chat could keep it aloft ... no, he wouldn't be able to hold all of it. Though if Solomon could clear some of the rubble from the top--hm.

He rose and, standing in the middle of the little basin, lifted his hands. All the shadows in-between the stone lifted up as tendrils and started plucking rocks off the top, tossing them lightly away from the unstable areas (and away from Adrien, of course), while Solomon directed them with flicks of his fingers.

Adrien was absolutely and terribly stubborn. His father told him as much often, and that he apparently got it from his mother. As such, he held it as a badge of honour, instead of one of shame. Still, it made it no less frustrating for the poor souls who had to deal with it.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it. Just gotta recharge."

He could always come as himself, but that would be too obvious. And so, with one last look at Solomon, he dashes off as his ring's beeping becomes a little more insistent. Luckily he gets to a damage wall before he detransforms, but he'll have to deal with a lecture from Plagg, and then trying to bribe the tetchy Kwami into eating before he can come back.

The life of a magical boy is hard ok.

Not quite far enough. There were other people around, of course, but Solomon's sense of people wasn't especially bounded by walls; he actually had very little idea how far it extended, given the city's density and the fact there was usually always someone in range. (The density was what clouded his ability to tell specifics, more than distance.) So he could still sense Adrien, if somewhat hazily in amidst the others in tunnels around them.

He sensed a shift, and that odd 'attachment' become more distinct in its own right, like it was its own soul. How curious. Too bad the boy wasn't likely to answer if Solomon asked outright. He'd fluster, but he wouldn't answer.

That made the mystery more fun.

By the time Chat Noir--or Adrien--came back, there was a good-sized pile of rocks away from the rubble, and a much reduced pile at the collapse. Solomon had paused and was kneeling with his hand to the debris, reading the empty space between. "We have another block too big to pull out," said Solomon without looking over. "How long before you can use that ability of yours?"

It is honestly the best kind of mystery, though one Adrien couldn't really answer much of even if he wanted to. Plagg has always been frustratingly vague on his nature and history, always changing the conversation to something else (usually food) whenever Adrien tried to bring it up.

Still, he eventually managed to feed Plagg and after much pleading and bargaining managed to get the kwami to allow him to transform again. As such, it was Chat once more who came back to the site, whistling in appreciation at the work Solomon had managed.

"I'm fully charged and ready to go again. Just like that."

He knew Plagg wouldn't like it, but people's lives were at stake so he'd just have to deal with it.

"Show me where and tell me when and we'll be set."

Look at him learning. He made a point of not just rushing into it this time around.

Just like that, Adrien learned some extra brownie points. Solomon appreciated driven young people--less so reckless arrogance. (Arrogance, he was fine with; reckless arrogance, less so, unless the youth was particularly talented.)

From the looks--heh--of things, Adrien was driven and conscientious; a rare combination, and one to be encouraged.

"Excellent," Solomon answered with a faint, actually turning his head toward Adrien's voice this time. "Most of it is under here." He patted the debris under him. "But it connects to a large piece over there." He pointed. "They're discrete units, but they're resting on each other. Could you take them both away at once? If not, we'll need to devise something to keep one from falling in when the other vanishes."

The 'we' is deliberate, a measure to include Adrien in the decision-making, like an equal.

He takes note of the we, and really appreciates it. Ladybug does the same, when most of Paris is happy to see him as her plucky sidekick. It means a lot, to be considered important, in any capacity. He rubs his chin, considering his options.

"If they connect to one another, I can take them both out, but even if there's an inch of separation between them, it'd be a lot riskier."

"There isn't," said Solomon with certainty. "They're resting on each other--their weight is holding each other up. If one was taken away the other would fall, but if you can take away both then we should only have a small ways to dig."

But for that, he needed to move; so Solomon rose and, with one hand extended to send a shadow across the route before him, he stepped away from the little basin he'd created.

"When you're ready, monsieur."

"Then that, I can work with."

And it's helping, which is something. Anything. It's better than standing around feeling helpless. He can do this, at least, and this he will take. He knows he needs to learn better ways of helping people. He can't just superhero his way through everything any more. He waits until Solomon says he's set and channels the power back into his hand.

"CATACLYSM"

His palm swirls with black energy again. He reaches to the area Solomon pointed to and places his hand down on it. The debris cracks, then turns to dust, drifting harmlessly away, as if it was never there at all.

Solomon feels the weight vanish, more because of the sudden absence of shadow than because he could feel anything disappear. He does taste the dust when he inhales, but he'll live on that front. Once he's sure the are is safe he steps forward, shadows skating across the bared ground.

"There's one more layer of debris," he says. "Some further back which will need to be dug out from the side. I'll be faster at digging--we should leave most of them where they are, if we can, until there's a medical team here to move them safely." Some injuries killed precisely because the subject was moved. "You'll have to make sure they're still in a position to be breathing without harming them further until help arrives. Can you do that?"

Chat listens, and nods. His ring gives a little BEEP BEEP, telling him he has five minutes, but he knows he can't run right now, either. Not with people's lives on the line. Besides, it's not like Solomon can see if he turns back, right? Right?

"Yeah, of course. I mean, if that's the best way of getting the least amount of casualties out of this, then I'm all for it."

Sometimes, there are more important things than being able to slip and keep your identity. Even if the thought of staying here, the chance of anyone knowing who he really is, absolutely terrifies him, his priorities are in the right place. People first. Everything else can be dealt with later.

"Good." Now to make sure someone is, in fact, coming. Solomon takes a breath and extends a hand to conjure a dog out of shadows. For this, he has to concentrate; he wants the puppet to last long enough to guide some rescue teams back here, and not take no for an answer.

It's an Irish wolfhound, long-limbed and wiry, fur densely black--especially in shadow. It's as large as its real-life counterpart, nearly a metre tall. It wasn't intentional, but Solomon has magic to spare; necromancy is fed by death, after all, and there's nothing if not death about.

The wolfhound bounds off as soon as it's completely formed, tail still a bit wispy; it seems to form inside the shadows cast around it, like it's gravitating to each one. Solomon takes a moment to make sure it isn't going to dissolve before it reaches someone and then turns toward the debris, aware of its presence pulling at him. That's going to be distracting.

"Someone should be here soon," he says. He hopes. It isn't going to be as easy to move rubble as it was before, and he's aware that the wolfhound has a limited distance and lifespan and no communication skills. It isn't a real dog. (He's never actually tried to send a shadow away from him like that before. He's a bit surprised it worked.

(... Later. Consider it more later.)

Conscious of that pull, and deliberately conjuring fewer shadows than he had before, Solomon raises his hands again to start shifting the last layer of debris off the victims. One by one, their dusty and bloody figures start to show.

Chat stares at the dog, as it is created as it vanishes away, and gives a low, appreciative whistle.

"Cool trick."

The ring gives another insistent BEEP BEEP, but Chat ignores it, instead moving to the debris, helping Solomon move it. He keeps at it, wincing each time the ring beeped, knowing it was getting closer to he point he'd change back. He can't do anything as Adrien, but he can't abandon his post, either.

His ears pick up the sound of people in distance, the "fake" cat ones on top of his head twitching. People were coming. The ring BEEP BEEPS again. Two minutes. He exhales slowly, pushing a piece of debris off the shoulder of someone who is far too still for comfort.

"People are on the way. Three, I think. Pretty sure."

"Thank you."

It's said a little dryly, and that's all Solomon says before moving on. Not about to mention the part where it was a first-timer, after all. Puppets are puppets.

Solomon doesn't speak again until Adrien does, focussed on the shadows and not losing his grip on them. He's vaguely aware of the dog the further it goes, siphons off some magic to keep it shaped, but he isn't paying attention to what it might see, or whether he can borrow those views. Even without a power shortage, there's only so many times he can divide his attention.

"Good," Solomon mutters, a little belatedly, in response. They're working fast for only two people, but it's impossible not to catch Adrien's timer counting down. Obviously, there are limitations to his powers.

He senses the rescuers as they come into the cave--Tavimbians, he thinks; he can usually tell humans and kedan by soul by this point--but they don't really come closer. Balking, maybe. Even here, Solomon is accustomed to some degree of reticence to get close to his magic. With a whip of his hands Solomon sends a few blocks crashing into the pile behind him, and bows sardonically at the entrance.

"Don't be hesitant on my account. Most of them should be unburied enough to move."

Chat is glad for the people showing up, but he's also very aware bystanders can quickly turn into casualties, at least when the danger is still present. That's not really the case here, though, so while he remains a little tense, he does exhale a little, glad for the chance of an out. To get away and change back privately.

"Are you sure? I'm not exactly a lot of help when I'm not transformed, but I wouldn't want to leave you in the lurch."

He's not even going to use the secret identity as an excuse. They both know that's a lie.

"I have these generous people here to help," Solomon says dryly, nodding toward those had arrived. Chat leaving means that the burden is on them to step up regardless of how intimidating a blind man flinging shadows around looks. True to expectation, their souls came a little closer and he hears the crunch of rubble, and low voices talking, as they discuss how to extract the survivors.

"But if you'd like I let you know how it goes, later," Solomon adds, "if there's someone I can leave a message with."

"If you're sure?"

The ring BEEP BEEPS again and he knows he has a minute left. Not enough time to discuss this or hang back any longer. He needs to leave, and he needs to leave now. He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks. I'm usually around the fire district. You can leave a message with Adrien, but I don't see him a whole lot. Might be a while before I talk to him. ANYway, good luck, and I'll see you around."

And with an extend of his staff, he's leaping off over the rooftops, finding a quiet place to transform back just in time. Wow, yeah, that time was way too close.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

LANDFALL | TAVIMBI | MARCH MINGLE LOG

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feel free to NPC newcomers etc if you like, too

awww yis

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