Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 1, 2016 1:14:09 GMT
“No thank you,” he answered while walking inside. The house was nice, a little small but homey. He tried to ignore the scattered beer bottles, hoping he could toss them out when he had the chance. The goose made him raise an eyebrow however. That was an odd pet, but he wouldn’t ask. Stepping back, he watched as Vern produced a loaf of bread and gave the whole thing to the bird. Odd, considering birds really shouldn’t have the stuff. He’d try telling the mechanic about it tomorrow.
Stepping to the side, he spoke up then. “This is a nice place you have,” he said with a smile. “How long have you been living here?”
Ripping the bread, bit by bit, he gave Kaia a handful, shrugging as the bird nibbled at his palm. “Not too long. “Wern petted the bird, taking a sip from his water with the other hand. The headache still rolled in his mind, but at least he was home. And not alone. Normally this is where the downfall came. First anger, then sadness, and then he would fall asleep. Wake up, feeling awful, but at least, there was something removed. Something heavy, finally lifted from his shoulders, but these days that feeling was getting harder and harder to reach. “We met shortly after I moved in, so, three, four months?” They had met once since then, a meeting that had faded from his mind. Yet that was still not enough of a bond for the other to follow him inside. “Do you always do this kind of thing?” He asked the other, waving his hand to encompass the room as if that was enough of an explanation for the “thing.” “With people you barely know?”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 1, 2016 3:59:36 GMT
It was sweet the way Vern kindly fed the bird. He had a gentle touch, despite the hangover he was probably getting. There was probably a story behind that goose, but he wouldn’t ask. And there was still no sign of the orb robot, Goya. Maybe he was still turned off, like mentioned in the bar. At the question, Lasair only chuckled lightly. “No, not always. But you seem like a good person, and I didn’t see a reason why I wouldn’t do this.” He smiled as he finished speaking leaned against one of the walls, not wanting to sit down just yet. He would prefer to see what the mechanic would be doing next and then adjusting accordingly.
Grunting, Wern rolled his eyes at the other, giving one last pat to Kaia before speaking. “See. You’re doing that again. Ins’t he, Kaia?” Of course the goose wouldn’t understand what >that< was, but she looked to the red head, and squawked in reply. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on the bird’s head before she honked, waddling out into the living room. “You- you’re what they say. Suave? Or uh, hmm.” He squinted at the man, as if the word was somewhere hidden on his clothes. When Wern couldn’t find it, he shooed the thought away with a flourish of his hand. “But, I uh, appreciate the company. Here, uh, let’s go find you a seat. I don’t get visitors so- oh.” Wern walked out of the kitchen, only to stumble and trip on something. A bottle, it seemed. He picked it up, looked into the glass, found it was empty, and threw it away, then proceeded to clean a path to the single armchair in the small living room. “I don’t get visitors so I only have one nice seat in a, sorry to say, very messy room.” The armchair was just as he said- a nice kind of velvety looking thing, surrounded by papers and bottles. It sat in front of an empty fireplace, boarded up by a metallic gate, as to prevent anyone not meant to go near from entering, which became the case with the goose. Next to the fireplace was a cushion bed, where Kaia sat, huddled next to an unmoving golden orb. She pecked at its casings, as if to awaken the sphere, but it lay still, unmoving despite the commotion at hand. In sadness, the goose lowered its head, and curled around the sphere, but if Wern took notice, he ignored it. Taking a chair from the desk along the wall to sit in, he motioned for Lasair to sit.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 1, 2016 22:51:26 GMT
Suave he was, and he didn’t have any problems with that. It was a part of his look, after all. And while he did have a strong feeling he knew what the other was talking about in reference to “that” but he didn’t speak up. Oh no, not until the other explained it first.
The journey to the armchair was a fierce one, but after a long and strenuous journey, they made it there and rejoiced. Lasair celebrated by claiming his prize, the very comfy chair. “Thank you, it’s a nice chair. Where did you get it?” He glanced from Vern to the side, seeing the goose curl up next to Goya, who wasn’t moving. That explained the lack of an extra voice. Lasair lifted a hand, as if to pick up the small orb, but then retracted it. Better to be safe.
Taking a seat, he noticed Lasair move to touch Goya. Furrowing his brow, Wern muttered something inaudible. When had he shut the orb down? He couldn’t remember. Who knows. Maybe that was what had started his drinking spree. Getting out from his chair, he crawled to the robot, sitting instead in front of the not open fireplace as he tinkered with the orb. “I got it from a furniture shop. They wanted to get rid of it, but I refurbished it.” He explained, poking Goya’s inner workings for a moment before the being hissed, continuing, apparently, from the last line it had been saying before it was shut down.
“-vsttttttreadful! Forget about Abigail, and move on. I don’t want to be found next to your deceased smelly body.” Ah, that was right. Letting the orb roll form his hands, Wern thought back to the reason why he had left— and how, somewhere, a newly crumpled clockwork insect lay, broken and past the point of repair, like it’s mother, the original. “There’s Goya.” Wern laughed, but it was dry, distant as he moved to grab a drink from the table- already opened, but still with a fair amount of liquor inside. He could quit anytime, he reasoned. The night wasn't over, and he could always start tomorrow, and so forth.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 3, 2016 0:48:20 GMT
Lasair chuckled as Goya sprung to life, brushing off the slightly morbid comment as something meant to be a joke. “Hello Goya, remember me?” he asked the orb, smiling towards it. Looking back towards Vern, he continued. “Thank you for turning him back on. I find him to be very fascinating. I’ve always appreciated robotics but I could never really learn them.” His eyes fell on the open container the man was reaching for, causing him to frown. “Hey, thanks for grabbing that bottle. Mine passing it to me?” he made it sound like he wanted the bottle to drink, but he had a different goal in mind.
“How did you make Goya?” he added after another moment, wanting to keep the conversation going.
Vibrating, the ball rolled toward Lasair, bumping into the chair as if to hump it. “The dual voiced angel, you have returned. Oh, please take me into your capable of feeling arms.” Goya sung, whistling as the orb trembled next to the ander. Wern sniffed, tutut-ing ever so slightly as he took another swig.
“Don’t know why Goya does that. Always around certain people, it seems. Strange. Must be wrong in the circuits.” Wern slurred, listening to the man speak. “I can teach ya, if you want. Robotics, I mean. I don’t mind.” Looking at the bottle, he handed it to Lasair.
“Sorry. I already drank out of it. There should be more in the fridge. Or, uh, a glass in the kitchen.” He hummed, petting Kaia. “And I didn’t make the cannon ball. Just its outer shell. Inner workings are my Pa. Thus the foul personality.”
“Fowl? I am no bird.” Goya rang, still bumping into the chair.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 3, 2016 7:08:32 GMT
He shifted his feet away from the ball, trying not to touch it. “It’s nice to see you too, Goya. And I appreciate the offer, but I can’t work with robotics.” His mouth went a little dry as the topic came up. Vern could probably guess that he was an ander now, but that was okay. Once he was handed the bottle, he set it down next to him and looked back at the man with a soft face.
“No, nothing to drink but thank you. And please, stay in here so we can talk more. The shell outside Goya is very well made, how did you do it? Where did you get the idea for that design?” A light chuckle rose from his throat as he observed the orb, bouncing off the chair repeatedly. Looking down at it, he continued speaking. “Does it amuse you to ram into the chair like so?” He smiled, glancing back up at Vern.
At the question of Goya’s design, Wern tilted his head to the side as if to think. “I looked at nature. And patterns. And detailed works. I look mimicking complex designs. They make me feel, um, calmer?” He searched for the word as the orb stopped hitting into the chair. “Not angel?” Goya asked, bumping into the chair once more. Twirling, the sphere ushered for the redhead to pick him up since Goya trying to get to him was evoking any results. But instead, Wern picked the sphere up. “Can’t work with robots?” That was strange. Furrowing his brow, Wern tightened his face as he patted the sphere. “Of course you can work with robots. Anyone can. Here.” Stumbling up, he opened Goya’s inner workings. The metal sphere, when pressed in certain areas, clicked and opened, the casing falling into two separate pieces. “The outer shell is made from a durable metal. The inner works, a lighter metal.” Yet, as Wern held out Goya, the being began to fritz, buzzing uncontrollably and letting out a louder whistling sound. Startled, Wern retracted it a bit. “Goya?” He questioned, looking at the bot, but the being continued to squeal, Wern drawing it even farther away from the red head, as if to protect him more so then the bot. “I’m sorry.” Looking to Lasair, Wern’s brow furrowed even more so as he clutched the orb to his chest. “I don’t know what wrong with them.” Sitting back down, Wern fiddled with the insides, letting out an angry sigh as the sphere would not stop screeching. More time past, the bot, quietening, but it sill whistled, burning at Wern's hands until at last Wern placed Goya on the side, shutting them off. “Blast it. I can’t do anything right.” He spat, throwing tools across the room, making Kaia honk angrily at him. Shooing her away, the bird got up, waddling into the other room, leaving the two men alone with the silent orb. “I’m sorry. Goya’s not normally like this.” Picking up the orb, Wern held it closely to his chest, as if somehow the bot would tell him what was wrong. "I just don't know what's been wrong with them lately."
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 3, 2016 8:17:56 GMT
“Anyone can work with robots.”
With that phrase, everything dawned on Lasair. Vern was new in town, and if he hadn’t been told about anders, and hadn’t heard from other people… The man did mention spending a lot of time at home, being a hermit. While unlikely, it was possible he simply had never learned.
So Lasair decided to teach him. “You said you were new to the city, right? Have you heard of Anderswelters, more commonly referred to as Anders?” He didn’t wait for the man to reply before continuing. “The city hates them, wants them gone. They’re beings of magic. They appear human, just like you and your home town, but they’re something different. They can harness and use magic, some can fly in the sky while others can see in the dark. And the one thing that also distinguishes them from all other humans, is the fact that they don’t get along with technology. If it’s held in their hands, it short circuits, malfunctions, and breaks down.” He took a breath, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “That’s what’s wrong with Goya. He got too close to an anderswelter. Too close to me.”
He glanced down at the bottle next to him. It was really looking tempting right now, but he held himself back. There were plenty of reasons to drink, but educating someone wasn’t one of them right now.
Anders? He knew of them. Had run into a few of them. Though, he figured it was just another nationality. But magic controlled by people? How strange. Holding Goya tighter, he looked at the red head. He was the one hurting Goya? Glancing at the bot, he turned away from Lasair, as if to protect the sphere.
“Magic?” Wern mimicked. That’s impossible. Insane, even. Though, that would explain Goya’s behavior. And those skeletons he had saw that night in his shop, but he figured that they had been sent by the monster, that magic, came from it— from monsters. But if it came from people, then, that wasn’t accurate. Well, not fully. Some people could be monsters, but a whole race? One that could easily blend into society? Maybe that is what made them dangerous. But still, no, it couldn’t be. They couldn’t all be bad. His birth mother, was, no, wasn’t she one too? Her, telling him, as a babe, of stories, of some distant place. His mother, a monster? “I mean, I’ve heard of Anders or at least, the nationwide hate of them. But isn’t that because of nationality, or um, them looking different? I don’t know. I never understood fully or, well.” He never really got into it. There weren’t any anders in his old town, and he had never heard of them like that. Just as some rumor. And his father, he never told him, or perhaps, just never cared to address it?
“But they’re people too, aren’t they?” They couldn’t be monsters. Pausing for a moment, Wern rolled the orb in his hands. “People that use… magic.” Inspecting Goya, he wondered if he should turn the bot on, but decided against it. “And you’re… one of them?” He stared at the man. Perhaps that’s what gave him his strange hair. The burning fire. Or maybe that air about him. Wern couldn’t decide. But if Goya reacted that way, then he was dangerous. But Lasair, he had been kind to him. Nice even. Was that all a trick?
“What does this mean?” Wern asked, scooting into the corner, closer to the fireplace. He had let a monster into his house. But Lasair, he wasn’t a monster. Or was he? The alcohol, the everything, he couldn’t understand, couldn’t distinguish. “Lasair, I don’t understand.” Holding onto the ball, he tried to make himself smaller, pushing his back into the wall until it hurt, until it could tell him what to do. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 4, 2016 4:47:48 GMT
The ander remained quiet and let Vern think through the information given to him, his own feelings sinking slowly. The way people reacted to anders usually didn't phase him, but for some reason, from this man, it stung unlike it had before.
“What? No. I don’t want to hurt you, Wern,” he said, returning to his senses. “The city would disagree. They say I’m a freak, a monster, that I’m dangerous, that I’m not even a person.” His mouth was dry, his throat was uncomfortable. “But just because the city says that, doesn’t mean it’s true. I’m only a freak if you see me as one. I can do magic. If you think that makes me a dangerous, so be it. The blood in my veins runs black. If you think that makes me a monster, so be it.”
He clenched his fists, digging the nails into his palms. “But I’ll never call myself a monster. I’m a person just as much as the rest of them. Anders are different. Different isn’t always bad.” Taking a breath, he stood up, looking towards the door. “And if you see me like they do, as dangerous, then I’m sorry but I need to leave.”
Listening, Wern remained coiled, but as the man went on, his grip slipped. He loosened, looking at the other, frowning, the fear freeing itself from tense shoulders. “No, Lassy, I— wait.” Stumbling up, Wern tripped over the papers, over the bottles, nearly slamming his face into the mantel of the fireplace but luckily the wall caught him. “No, I— I don’t see you as a monster. Or—“ He thought for a moment. Who else was an Ander? Everyone that Goya reacted to? So Edel, Anders, Emelo, his mother? So many kind people, all Anders? They weren’t monsters. The city— the city itself was corrupt, was th emonster. Not the people in her. “I don’t see you as a monster. Or any other anders, I just.” No, he couldn’t see them as such. They – weren’t like the beast in his basement. Stepping forward, he reached out to hold onto Lasair’s shoulder, hand trembling as it came to a stand still.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But, Goya.” Looking toward the orb, he saw its still body, cold against the wooden floor. “I got scared. I am scared, Lasair. Scared of this city, of what it says and does.” Removing his hand from the other’s shoulder, he instead held onto a piece of the man’s coat sleeve, as if expecting him to pull away, to leave. Wern stared at his feet, voice quivering. “But least of all, of you. You’re not a monster. You or any ander. You’re special, in a good way. You have a gift. Magical in all sense, it seems.” Letting out a laugh, Wern rubbed at his eye, his pupils, turning red as he held back tears. Cogs. He had ruined this. Hurt the other. Touched on a sore topic that should not have been crossed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But if you want to go, you can.” Looking toward the door, he saw them. The bottles of wine, of liquor. And remembered why he drank it. To prevent this guilt. And the one person who was trying to help him out of it, he had shooed away. Stepping away from the man, he walked to the drink on the tabletop— opened it, drowned the last bit of the liquid, then, as if realizing what he had done, curled in onto himself again, pressing the glass container into his chest like he had with Goya.
“I don’t care what this city says. You’re not a monster, Lasair.” He repeated, holding the glass tightly, almost as if to break it. But then, the grip loosened some. Wern stopped, and looked out the window, to the street, where people no longer walked by, but night took over. Lodan was at rest, but was, it really? “You’re not a monster. If anything maybe—” Stepping closer to the window, he stared out, looking toward the castle, at where the mandate had come from, where all of this had come from. “Maybe they are—" But it wasn't just them, was it? Looking to his own hands, he continued. "Maybe all humans are.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jan 4, 2016 6:33:41 GMT
Again Lasair remained quiet as the other talked. And as the mechanic went on, the pained look on the ander’s face softened. He held still as Vern grabbed his shoulder, and then his sleeve. And then Lasair smiled at him, only he let go before he saw it, reaching for a bottle but then seemingly regretting his decision.
He took a step towards the man, bending down to look at him eye to eye. “Hey, if you don’t think I’m a monster, then I don’t think you’re one either. I’ve met some nice humans. It’s not all of them. Just…the majority.” Sighing, he continued, reaching out the hold the man’s shoulder and try to cheer him up.
“Hey, do you want to see some magic?” he offered, getting the feeling that Vern might be fascinated by it. “I don’t want to leave just yet,” he said a moment later, smiling at the man. It was a nice feeling to hear that he wasn’t hated, wasn’t feared.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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