meadowlarklogs | EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

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EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

WHO: The Displaced!
WHERE: Lots of places—potentially? Mostly New Amsterdam as the focus.
WHEN: March 4, 2512
WHAT: Unlocking of the gates and the game's fast travel network.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Uninvited visions.

> EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

The vision itself is almost instantaneous once the last of the four gates activates, hitting the Displaced no matter where they are. It doesn't matter where that individual Displaced is: if they're in New Amsterdam, at one of the gates, or sleeping, they'll see the same vision. A flash of seven colors (red, blue, black, gold, orange, red, and white) followed by an image of a nomadic people heading up a long, stone bridge that appears to be naturally occurring. At the end of the bridge is an open, lit-up triangle that acts as a gateway, inviting them inside. Then there is another flash, followed by the nomads walking through the gate and ending up in a different, new location. And then another.

Any understanding of this vision isn't immediate. The answers won't be apparent until later, when there is an innate understanding of what they've learned and what they've unlocked for themselves. The world has opened up to the Displaced, and in some ways, it's there for them to access and even take for themselves if they so choose.

After the vision ends, any of the Displaced located at the four ruins will immediately begin to glow in all blue before they fade out of view and find themselves crammed into a new location. The relocation is immediate, and if anyone checks a map via their neural implant to see where they are geolocation wise, they'll be able to tell that they're underneath New Amsterdam. For anyone who's been in the underground cave system of New Amsterdam, they may think their surroundings are familiar, if not the same. After all, this area has been locked away for a very long time.

One more thing is apparent: they've landed on another form of gate that needs to be unlocked. After the numerous trials and puzzles the Displaced have faced, what's one more?

◉ The puzzle to solve is right beneath the feet of the Displaced on a bronze-colored mechanism. At the center of the mechanism are multiple overlapping triangles, and on the outside, there are five separated triangles that sit individually.

◉ Solving the puzzle involves connecting a daisychain of Displaced and having five key focal points step on the triangles at once.

◉ Once the puzzle unlocks, there will be another understanding: that what they saw in the vision belongs to them. Any of the Displaced outside of the caves will know what it means.

◉ With that work done, it's time to explore. The underground cave system of New Amsterdam is half-inhabited by the sprawling megacity, and half-uninhabited and untouched. This part of the cave system was locked away for centuries, and just like the other ruins, there are some relics and lost items from the past. The eras vary: some are early medieval burial sites with items like brittle, forgotten swords and shields, while others are crosses and manuscripts that refer to this location as the center of the Holy Roman Empire.

◉ The manuscripts are a mix of imagery from Catholicism and the same, omnipresent geometric imagery.

◉ The way out of the cave system involves touching a hand to a handprint alongside what appears to be a door. This print will only appear to the Displaced, so they will be able to move in and away from this location largely unobserved.

> ON THE JOB FROM 9 TO 5

Now that the gates trip is done and the Displaced have new answers—if potentially unhelpful ones, depending on their perspective—it's time to return to their lives. Surprisingly, New Amsterdam has no festivals going on, as if it's time to now be hungover from a February that involved nonstop partying. The city has been cleaned up and everyone's returning to their jobs as if the city around them is not in a constant state of revelry.

◉ Ah, it's time to return to work! No one is required to lose their jobs, but it might take a bit of groveling for the Displaced to return to where they were working before. (With the exception of the Red Wings bar. Poor Mister Doctor Stephen Strange.) El will have sent along any excuses to any bosses who might need an explanation. Ze's used to this gig by now.

◉ What about those cities left behind? No one planned on abandoning those gates at that exact moment. They will remain open to the Displaced. Anyone who had a hotel room in New Oslo or even kept stuff stored at New Beijing will find that they can just teleport back via this new fast travel system.

◉ Though for anyone who's been dealing with tampered food, maybe it's time to go take a break. You know where's a good place to do it? The Displaced-run Red Wings bar. Ah, poor Mister Doctor Strange, at least the people coming in out of nowhere are all Displaced looking for proper food and a drink. It's time to mingle, share notes, and see what's what. Might as well get to seeing where there's overlap—and what to do next.

◉ Or it's time to explore! The world is finally open and available to one and all. Well, to one Displaced and all.

◉ The information on these gates and what they do won't immediately be available to El and Gaby. It's up to the Displaced if they decide to share with their NPC friends. (Of course, if it's mentioned via the Morningstar network, then they'll know!)

> FINAL OOC NOTES

This is meant primarily as a laid back, return to life log for the Displaced after their exciting trips around the world (and trips-to-be, most likely). Any questions about the aftermath should be directed to our aftermath questions thread!

Our CR meme will be posted on February 14th (Happy Valentine's Day!), and our arrival log for all newbies will be going up on February 15th.

Thanks again for making this a great event!

> NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Clarke will be sitting at the bar in Equinox whenever Quentin walks in. It's obvious from the rapport that she has with the bartender that she's a bit of a regular here. She doesn't come alone most of the time, having built a group of friends among her fellow PRESERVE volunteers. Of course, that friendship is built on a lie, so there is a level of distance between her and them.

Equinox isn't built to house many people. There are a few booths, a strip of flood leading into the back hallway where the restrooms are, and the bar itself that exists on the opposite wall. The owner works there almost all the time, keeping it open around the clock and offering a simple breakfast in the morning. Recently, they've been serving a lot of egg dishes with spinach since their spinach garden has overgrown with all the weird green growth throughout New Amsterdam.

The front of the establishment is covered by a black and white overhang, inviting people inside.

She has a beer in front of her, but she hasn't taken many sips from it.]

[Quentin walks in looking around with curious eyes, taking in all the details fairly quickly. He's observant and interested in all the new places he's absorbed in, and even small stops like this have that same fully engaged reaction. He's not looking to case the joint or look for exits, but seeing details like the booths, the restrooms, and smelling the food in the air. Hey, at least his afterlife isn't boring. It's been thrilling in a way he tries not to communicate out loud because then people would go who is that weirdo who seems excited to be kidnapped in the multiverse. But the excitement burns under his skin, especially since the ruins.

He spots Clarke and recognizes her from her Cooltalk, yeah, of course he pays attention to those, he's a Millenial. In the past he might have run through a thousand scenarios of the right way to approach her, the right things to say and do, but he's gone through enough shit at this point. And she doesn't seem like the type of person, from the network, to be very impressed by people who attempt to seem smooth.]

Hey, Clarke. [He says simply, sitting next to her at the bar. It won't be long before his hair grows out enough to have that floppy feel to it again, but this is the shortest he's had it so far. Quentin drums his fingers on top of the bar, some tension releasing from the smallest of gestures. He's here for her. They barely know each other, but he cares about people, and that leads him to their side, always.]

Any suggestions on a drink order?

[Clarke meets people and hangs out in bars a lot. It's a neutral setting, and one that makes her think of another life. For a few brief moments in Sanctum, she got to live that life. But it was (in a weird way of sensory) after she had already lived here. But it comes together, completing a picture and a story that she likes to tell with herself.

One day, she hopes that her people will be able to have bars like this. Buildings and cities. Things from another civilization. They're all lost to them now. What they know is mimicked from TV shows and movies that made it onto the Ark before the bombs went off.

Despite all that: she's no good at recommending drinks. Clarke offers Quentin a warm smile, but the bartender—again, Clarke's a regular—interjects, sliding his hand in between them.] Don't ask her, [he says, voice sharp.] She'd drink our cheapest shit if it was all we had.

[Which ... has been tested.

Clarke shrugs, a bit sheepish. Look, moonshine (often better than the "cheapest shit") is what she knew best.]

He's right. Tell him what you like, he'll recommend something.

[Quentin glances up, a little startled, when the bartender interjects and he laughs. He's used to some cheap shit when it comes to booze, but he's also a former college and grad student. The booze was rarely at the top of its game but appreciated nonetheless. He has to assume that maybe this place still has the same types of liquors.]

Whatever vodka drink you'd recommend? That's not, um, super expensive.

[It's not as if he's found a full-time job yet. That is a problem for current Quentin, not even future Quentin, but his mind is swarming too much with thoughts of what they went through. He will definitely follow some leads for him and Eliot tomorrow. He stops his hands from drumming any more and focuses on her. A quick and curious look at her takes in a variety of details.]

Sorry if I've already been that newbie who just floods enthusiastic ideas at you old hats without any awareness. It's ... not a new thing for me.

[No, Quentin's been that person several times now, but his enthusiasm hasn't flagged yet. The thing is, this all feels far within his realm than out of it, compared to how it was when he first arrived. Still, he knows that she understands this place better than he could possibly imagine; whether she calls herself a leader or not, he has already picked up on the fact that she is. Or was. And all the downfalls that come with leadership behind it.]

We'll just start you with a vodka tonic. We're swimming in lemons and limes when we shouldn't be, so we don't even have to skimp on the flavoring. [Whatever strange plant overgrowth hit New Amsterdam, it also hit any of the lemon and lime trees that were held in specially modified greenhouses set up around the city. They apparently have so much that when the bartender goes to cut a lemon up fresh, he has an entire bucket full of them. Too much to even manage.

Once Quentin's drink is handed over, Clarke smiles at him, shaking her head.]

It's a good thing that you have ideas. Some of them need to be revisited. [Though Clarke's still not entirely sold on "do a town hall with all sixty-plus of the Displaced, if only because of the redundancy and redoing issues that they might have down the line.]

For my part, my feedback on it is meant more as—[She searches for the words. Somehow, Clarke is someone whose chin can wrinkle in thought as she looks for what she's saying.] Caution. A reminder that we can't get caught up in enthusiasm and treat what we're dealing with almost as if it's—as if it hasn't involved people.

[Even the AIs count, though she can see some of the Displaced losing sight of that. Has seen, which is a concern.]

That sounds great, thank you. [Quentin thanks the bartender again when he brings him his drink. He takes a taste and it's pretty solid; they have liquor down fairly well, which makes sense. if the world is going to be fractured and torn up, alcohol really has to stay around.

He patiently lets her find the words and frame it herself, since Quentin has a tendency to just ramble around his points rather than give himself time to think them through. It's something he's been better at lately, but then he got here and it's like his mind has cracked open again to all sorts of unknown possibilities. Which gets him theorizing. He sombers for her point, because she's very right.]

It's a good caution. Academics, we kind of have a tendency to think in theoretics. Magicians are no better. A lot of the way our mind works is whether we can do something, not always whether we should. [Quentin knows where his flaws lie. This disconnect between belief and theoretics vs. reality and consequence is an always-present problem.]

I know we literally just met, but I can tell you really want to help people and you care a lot. Which can be a rough combination when faced with some ... confusing vision shit and destiny quests that make no sense.

It's that, yeah. [A beginning of a thought. It's clear she has more to say, but hesitates to put her thoughts together. Clarke does care, but her need to have a say in things definitely goes beyond that. She knows that she's a natural leader, even if these people aren't her people. Her need to step up is almost by presuming that she's wanted there. Some people do want her. Others—

Well, many of them have gone, so that might be for the best.]

It's also needing to feel like we have control. My world doesn't deal in this. Only in beliefs, in what's not real and never becomes real—before you challenge that, it's all based in something that can be traced. In fact, even when people throw around fate, or being chosen, or any of it. [Lexa had believed she was due to be the leader because the previous Commander had chosen her.

That was never true.]

That may not sound very—correct to you, does it? But it's hard to motivate people when things are set in stone.

[A lesson she's learned even when fate and destiny weren't entwined.]

[Quentin waits while she hesitates and sorts through what she wants to say. He appreciates people who aren't like him because he just rambles his thoughts out as they come. He grew old once, to be more measured and together, but a lot of that unraveled as just a dream back in his own body. He listens closely when she does speak, tapping his finger against the side of the glass.]

So ... [He pauses this time and narrows his eyes, following her lead by thinking about it. He's a very expressive person so the wheels in his head turning are there in his eyes.] I'm not sure I would say correct. What makes sense in your world, what makes sense in my world, there are completely different rules here. Neither of us are really correct in that way. I'm actually used to being wrong a lot and making mistakes, and just sort of surviving and adapting from there.

[He doesn't add that eventually trying to wing it didn't work out so well for him in the surviving department. Quentin is really trying not to put that burden on anyone else, outside of Klaus after finding out he was in a similar situation. It's difficult to know what to feel, being dead. This being the last stop. A second chance is a second chance.]

There were definitely times when we were like ... what's the point, you know? We're stuck in this time loop or we're stuck in these positions of destiny and it was like everything we did led to the worst possible option. [God, that wasn't so long ago too. One snowball after the other until it became a boulder.] But we had each other. [He misses them.] I know I can't make people here into some kumbaya friendship is magic gang though.

As a group, we evolve a lot, too. We have history. When we first got here and that bus accident happened, there were a lot of us at first. Most of those people are gone now. Only a handful of us remain. It's not something that someone would expect coming into this, knowing that we might need to set up a new life that may be temporary when it's all said and done.

[Clarke has more thoughts on it, though. She's been the one "here before;" she's known how to look forward and has also seen how it's slipped from the fingers of people trying to manage it.]

Having those losses—it's not about friendship, but the worry of things being ephemeral. I'm guessing here, but when you and your friends were like that before, it was a pretty consistent set of you? [It sounds like the type of thing that would be able to build upon itself, like how the delinquents had only come to trust each other.] I'm asking because I've been in this before. I was younger, and we all had to survive together. It wasn't fate that we had to survive—just the knowledge of being expendable.

[Quentin's heard in a general way about the past here, but you can only read so much and understand it intellectually. It's nothing compared to experience. She's one of the last people who started it out. What does that mean? Her role in this isn't over. She still has a part to play. He doubts that will be anything helpful to hear though. He thought that way about his death, that it was official and he served his purpose. Except here he is, continuing.

He gets what she's saying, for sure, nods and sipping his drink.] It's ... weird to think how easy it could be. To lose people here. [To lose himself. To lose Eliot. It could be as simple as opening his eyes in the morning or never opening them at all. But he also knows he has to keep existing without letting that fear constantly hound him. It's the only way.]

I'm sorry. Some of those people were probably friends. [He can only assume, going through that together. There's a cost.] You did this before on your world. We're doomed to keep at it, I guess. [In a circle.] If you've been here this long, what did you think this all was, if not mixed up with the supernatural or destiny or something that causes a real migraine this way.

You have to understand. When I first got here, I hadn't seen a city before. The only one I'd experienced was a simulation put together. [Just in case the bartender overhears, she doesn't say "by an AI." That can be covered in another storytelling session if Quentin ever wants to know.] I wasn't too focused on supernatural or destiny. I was trying to prove that both me and my people weren't being hurt or used.

[Her response to it all now is different. She has a lot of clarity of mind, but there was a time when Clarke wanted to set out and find answers. Being turned away from that dangerous path had been difficult, and now she does the same for the others.]

I've come to learn that many of the things I wrote off as being unreal for my people are real to many of the others. I've had to accept the fact of it. But knowing there is something supernatural involved doesn't mean that we're fated in any way. That's a leap, and not one I'm eager to take myself.

[It sounds arrogant, and Clarke can't afford to feel arrogant these days. She's always rejected fate, but she'll keep doing it again and again until it's shoved in her face and proven.

As far as she's concerned, it hasn't been. Not yet.]

[Quentin's run into a few Fillorians by now who have never seen cities, even the largest places in that world aren't like New York or smaller cities like Boston. It's a different type of world. Still, she does seem very calm and capable, for being new to cities, but she might just be one of those people who adapt quickly. Like Margo. Margo never missed a beat.]

I've always been a believer. Most things I've experienced the past few years seemed unreal before they happened, but I was quicker to accept it than my friends. I thought I was crazy, for real crazy, because a part of me just ... felt it in my bones with no rational explanation. Against logic.

[A feeling. Quentin feels strongly. It radiates off him even without empathy powers, although at the moment he's pretty collected and focused. A little jittery, from a bizarre sense of excitement, because of the visions. Because here they are again and he should hate it but he doesn't.]

It is a leap though. And sure I'm saying this all feels like destiny, because that's what I know well, but it may not be. I could be wrong, you could be right. It could be somewhere in the middle. But ....

[He smiles self-deprecatingly, shaking his head, looking at his drink and not at her.]

I feel it in my bones again. There's something drawing us here, there's some bigger picture we can't see. It doesn't have to be destiny for that to be true. [But it's in his gut and it won't go away.] I'm sorry if I sound like a crazy cult dude though, talking about feelings and fate.

No, it's—[She shakes her head, cutting herself off.] It's fine, [she continues, because it feels important to say that, to make that abundantly clear to him.] Just because I don't agree or believe it doesn't mean I mind hearing about it. For some people in my world, that's how they found peace in the circumstances they were born with, even if it's not how my people found peace.

[It's an outcome she dislikes, but it's one that has led to peace. Without Lexa or Madi, would the Grounders have ever been any better off? It's something that she tried to take and manipulate once, but she knows better than to do that again. And it was that process that led to Octavia keeping so many alive in the bunker, even if it was hell otherwise.]

A lot of us come from places where we had purposes, whether we were born with it or not. Whether we always believed it or not. We did what we felt we had to, what we had the power to do, either as leaders or as something else. [Clarke, of course, was a leader.] It makes sense that we'd see a purpose here.

[She debates adding more. She could qualify her statements, but ultimately decides against it.

She also debates whether to tell him about the faith of the Grounders, and how that faith could start and end wars. She understands faith, even if she doesn't have it in a spiritual sense. It might just be what someone needs to believe to keep going.]

I wish it gave me peace, honestly. [Quentin at the start of Brakebills certainly is far different from the Quentin who sits there now. The boy that believed still exists, but that belief (and what it's in) has changed.] I used to think it would because I loved all these fantasy novels where the main character is destined for greatness and he humbly takes it on and saves the day.

[He shakes his head, smiling at his drink.] The reality of being that person? Whole different experience. Instead all I could think about sometimes was how much I sucked at being the protagonist. [The terms are all the same, about fiction, about belief in fiction, but Quentin knows they're just words.] Luckily it turns out all my friends are protagonists and some of them aren't as shitty at it as I am.

[Quentin glances over at her and thoughtfully observes for a few seconds before continuing.]

I guess the question is ... we all come from different places, with purposes or not, but like ... what does that mean for this place in this time? What can we do here? What we've done in the past ultimately doesn't matter, but we're stuck here.

[He always has to look forward, to keep going, to try and obsess over the angles and the what next instead of relaxing or taking a few minutes to breathe. He has to know how to live in this place since it's the only option he has.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT #008 AFTERMATH LOG

clarke griffin ( closed to quentin coldwater )

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so sorry for the wait I'm alive

shhh i'm leaving on vacation tomorrow, life is life

I hope you had an AMAZING TIME

I DID ... UNTIL I GOT SICK! 😭😭

i am a late monster i apologize profusely

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