EVENT #11.4 / ARRIVAL LOG #029

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: The Aerie as it ends in an anime-like fashion, New Tokyo, and New Amsterdam
WHEN: August 23, 2512 onward.
WHAT: Event ending, arrivals, and a lot of changes.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, religious themes.

> EVENT #011.4 / ARRIVAL #029

As suddenly as they all vanished, the people who remained in the Aerie begin to return. These people have not died: instead, they seem to return peacefully after an extremely unusual experience. As the gods are freed, the Aerie begins to take on a different form, radically altered by this decision. The very fabric of reality unravels. It's not that the city continues to grow more and more dilapidated by the moment—instead, the Aerie ceases to exist, dragging everyone who remains within into a joint, out of body experience.

At once, everyone's memories return in full. As they float in what is an open space, they'll recall who they were once before, right alongside their alternate life in the Aerie. Even if they can't see them, they'll begin to feel the others there: not just that they exist, but their emotions: wonder, surprise, irritation, anger, fear, guilt. Somehow, they recognize that they're connected to the billions of living souls there alongside them.

What once seemed like a wide, open space comes to be recognized as a large, vast ocean. They float in the deepest depths of the ocean, and they begin to see sea life swirl around them. Whales. Sharks. The glint of a dying star? There are constellations in the distance, too far to reach. It's hard to say where they are, and impossible to communicate to ask, to try to reach one of the billions of other souls there. When they open their mouths to try, they only make an unintelligible sound. Have they, too, been transformed into those creatures? It seems, at least for a moment, like they're communicating via echolocation.

The constellations begin to burn brighter and brighter. As they touch the people there, they're able to see more clearly around them. There are hundreds upon thousands of animals, all with bright golden eyes. They push through the water quickly, and the gold in their eyes fully illuminates the space around them.

Once that illumination meets a critical mass, everyone begins to experience a different joint vision. From the very start, the experience itself is excruciating: they feel an object, vaguely comprehended, but perceived to be spear-like in nature, slicing into them, tearing them asunder. The misery results in a complete and total division of self: splintered and incomplete, scattered into trillions of tiny pieces.

An indefinite amount of time later, there is a stirring. Everyone feels frigid and cold. The chill is excruciating, but different from what it was before. And then, as if a physical feeling can become an emotion, that chill becomes anger. And then that rage starts searching, wandering—

Until it adapts and connects with the ocean around it. The gold in the eyes of the sharks and whales begins to dim. A feeling of grief and eventually peace washes over everyone who remains.

And then everyone begins to shift in their beds, awakening as if returning from a terrible nightmare. Of course, given that they recall all of it, it's likely not much of a nightmare. At least not in a literal sense. When they wake to check in on the world, they'll find it in much the same shape—with the changes being far less obvious at first.

> 30 SECONDS FROM TOKYO

At first, you'll hear the buzz of a motor, as well as smell the splash of ocean water not so far away. You'll find that you're on a boat, passing swiftly over the Pacific Ocean to come into contact with a large, man-made structure in the distance. While you're drugged, you find that you're unable to move much. An IV protrudes from your arm, keeping you sedate. When one of the guards on the boat turns to check on you, they'll find your eyes open. "Sit tight and don't move. We have to be welcomed inside." Even if you're naturally defiant, you find yourself forced to comply.

Eventually, the boat pulls onto a dock that extends from the city itself to welcome your arrival. The mechanisms are complicated and hidden. Unlike a drawbridge in our modern times, the dock extends swiftly and completely, welcoming the boat next to it. After the boat seems to anchor itself into place, the guards present begin to move each of the passengers one by one off the boat. You'll notice others like you: dressed in white, long-sleeved scrubs, with recently shaved heads, and a pair of white tennis shoes. Or most of them are.

There are two exceptions: Eames and Aeryn, who have their hair still, but are just as drugged and kept under. They went through a similar arrival process before the Aerie stole them away, and arrived back after the Aerie ended in a similar manner to Max. Their return to society is just less personalized due to the circumstances.

Eventually, you're taken through the city—a wonder in and of itself, as it's a complex system of elevators spanning both vertically and horizontally through the large, metallic structure—and eventually through the back door of a business.

"All right, listen up everyone. There are people coming to get you. We've got this place for the day, so sit tight." At this, everyone's forced to do as they're commanded. Even if you don't want to sit, you have no choice. "We'll direct the people to bring you water, but that's all. Ask them to show you the glow. And—from me to you?" The guard sounds … tired all of a sudden. Her voice is strained as she adds: "Try not to fuck more shit up."

At once, the guards start to filter out through the back door. As much as everyone left behind can't go anywhere, they sure can talk.

As this process begins, a message is sent to all of the Displaced in New Amsterdam via a private broadcasting channel, one that's meant to only reach a limited number of people. It seems Jimmy's found a way to hack it for his own use, but trying to trace this back to him will prove impossible:

Sorry everyone. Couldn't do an official drop off. I barely scrounged up the people I did to get them to town. They're sitting tight at a bakery called Sweet Omakase in New Tokyo. Just go in and tell the people up front that you're there to pick up a package.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I'll be reaching out to a few of you soon. So … yeah.

JH

As for that compliance drug?

◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.

> NEW AMSTERDAM

Though the Displaced can make the choice to keep the newcomers in New Tokyo for longer than a few hours, it's generally not recommended. Morningstar in New Tokyo is in just as much disarray as the rest of the world, and El doesn't want to disrupt their recovery in these trying times. As such, it'll be necessary to take them on a secure route back to the New Tokyo gate, bring them to New Amsterdam, and start to get them ready for their new lives. Of course, they may see a little bit of New Tokyo along the way, but not much given the urgency. (The link is provided for brevity purposes—please see the "New Tokyo" section for a summary of the city itself!)

The abbreviated trip between New Tokyo and New Amsterdam will bring the newcomers back to a city that's been through … a lot. That means it's probably a good time to have a quick catch up, right?

> LAST TIME ON NAMSTERDAM!
Although a year isn't very long for even a human being, the Displaced have managed to make their mark in this unusual world. Having first been released out into the world in mid-June 2511, they started touching the world around them. Whether it was fighting a giant monster or curing people from the sickness caused by inhaling smoke from that giant monster's parts (as well as any tiny little monsters it brought with it) or taking on the UNA when they tried to wipe out an entire chapter of a rebel organization, the mysterious Blue-glowing people were there.

After over a year of interventions left and right, the Displaced finally came forward as a united group—one that's uniquely tied to a business they opened. No one knows they're from another world. They don't even know what the Displaced's powers are, though they've certainly seen them do fantastical things. One thing became apparent: while the Displaced were spotted in other cities around the globe, their influence has been most felt in New Amsterdam. And even if the world's governing body doesn't like it, the people of New Amsterdam have claimed the Displaced as their own.

Most recently, the entire world found itself dragged into another reality called the Aerie. The Displaced had gone through this before on a smaller scale, but this brought everyone present on the planet Earth to this other world. The Aerie was a miracle world: in order to prevent the death of humanity as everyone knew it, a group of heroes chosen by a handful of gods chained said gods and harnessed their power to create a safe haven for all of humanity. As a result of their actions, these people created a major class disparity in order to maintain the secrets of how they created the Aerie. Since billions of people were saved in the process, the Aerie ended up having an overpopulation problem. The answer? A battle royale for anyone who's committed a crime, held monthly.

Well, as these things go, about two hundred years into this horrible experiment, the Aerie started experiencing some challenges. Rebel groups and bombs and more! Eventually the gods were set free, and with it, the Aerie vanished into nothing.

Though the Aerie (and its smaller-scale predecessor, Zerzura) was undoubtedly brought into being by divine intervention, it doesn't help that the Displaced claimed that their powers seemed to be caused by interacting with gods. Troubling much? So, some of the world is divided, with New Amsterdam being the only pro-Displaced left after the Aerie. Of course, it's a touch more complicated than that.

And it doesn't all fall in the laps of the Displaced. After all, they didn't choose to have this happen to them.

An important thing to note is that New Amsterdam is a very, very green city. We don't mean recycling. As if powered by weird god magic, plants grow a-plenty in the city, leaving numerous trees and thousands upon thousands of credits in plumbing issues. Animals came into the city thanks to the absence of humans to start settling in. It's a beautiful city, one that seems as if it's actively fighting against being reclaimed by nature.

With the worldwide trauma, current singing events are currently on hiatus. This likely won't be permanent, but it's not as if anyone is looking to become a pop star at this exact moment.

But that's where New Amsterdam is currently, anyway.

> SUMMER PROBLEMS
Ah, water rationing. That's right: one of the tried and true traditions in New Amsterdam summers is water rationing. During the hot summer months, the city puts out water rationing warnings, and the city also answers the intense and extreme heat by making it so that businesses are open throughout the evening, with everyone sleeping during the daytime. However, the Aerie shot a lot of that preparation in the foot, so the city won't be able to reverse the clock.

Expect a lot of hot, miserable, and extremely humid days ahead. Thanks to the nearly tropical nature of the city at this point, humidity is a natural side effect of it all. The temperatures will be reaching from around 105 F to 115 F during the daytime. The evenings cool off, but certainly not by much, as they dip to only around 90 F to 95 F when the sun goes down.

Oh, and water rationing is most definitely in effect.

> RED WINGS
In February 2512, the bar known as Red Wings first opened. Positioned adjacent to the New Amsterdam stadium, where a wide variety of sporting events occur year round, it's the only business in New Amsterdam that's currently run entirely by the Displaced. However, a few other businesses are set to open in the near and distant future, all tailored to cater to the city that most of the Displaced call home.

On the inside, Red Wings is very, very red. There is a neon sign that's been recently repaired of the Great Lakes state (Michigan). In terms of being a watering hole, the bartenders are all Displaced and all very sympathetic to any newcomers headed their way. Need some free food or a chance to play pool to clear your head? Red Wings is the place to do that. There are tables throughout the bar. There used to be booths, but most of them got shredded during a recent monster attack and … well, tables are easier to replace.

It's likely that all of the newcomers will be brought to Red Wings first for a full meal before being taken to the safehouse across town.

And while there are blank projection screens around the bar showing news broadcasts of what just went down, none of the newcomers will be able to see any of them.

> MURAL
Throughout the past year, multiple murals have gone up around New Amsterdam by a Banksy-like figure. This figure is known to the people of New Amsterdam as Legion, and they tend to commemorate both the Displaced and their ties to the gods. In the Aerie, it was revealed that Legion was a wealthy woman by the name of Nirvana. Upon returning from the Aerie, another new mural goes up in New Amsterdam.

Legion's new mural explodes in color in the large corporate buildings that connect in New Amsterdam's financial district. It depicts the whole story of the Aerie from beginning to end: the conception, the Quarries, the attacks on both the Quarry and the Volary, and then the return. The imagery is woven together like a full story, each picture moving seamlessly into the next. Below are the colors of the gods, painted in vibrant colors that can be seen for miles.

There's specific imagery woven in as well, including the birds that represent the different groups of people, the eclipse and different phases of the moon to signify the timing.

It seems to say never forget.

> HELPING OUT
All around the world, returning members of Morningstar, PRESERVE, and even the cultists who once followed the leader, Ball (though the cultists are only working in New Amsterdam), all spur into action to try to help. Everyone may be traumatized, but they also likely prescribe to the notion of wanting to keep busy. Recalling the Aerie won't be pleasant, and the world needs help. New Amsterdam already has a head start thanks to the resource acquisition and work by a small group of Displaced, but now everyone is back to work.

The work in question? Feed everyone, first and foremost. Countless people are without fresh food. Working in conjunction with both the Red Wings employees and the cultists, PRESERVE will be putting up food banks all around the city. Marcos Diaz's food bank is likely to be fully stocked as a result of this, should he want to get that running again.

Other work that needs to be done involves plumbing, as the plants seem to have very much taken on a life of their own. They're absorbing most of the available water in the city, and have even made the water level decrease in the river (just a bit, though). Water rationing is even more important right now, but it may prove to be a futile effort if the plants aren't held back. Time to get moving. Anyone who wants to be an impromptu apprentice to a plumber is likely going to be welcomed onto the job. They need all hands on deck.

Finally, there are just the people who need help. Roaming bands of former UNA soldiers caused problems even before the mass return. Now they're meeting up and moving as if they're a gang of their own to return order to the land. However, these people are truly traumatized, and it's as if they're calling upon an old order that they can't quite recognize. The problem is that they're extremely dangerous. Though their weapons are mostly makeshift ones, they can fight with them. Along with these roaming bands, there are the catatonic and the confused people, all who could use some assistance to get back on track.

Sadly, the hospitals are not ready to be staffed by typical personnel. If anyone wants to take the lead on this and commandeer those medical centers, they can feel free to! Again, all help is appreciated, even if it might involve some slightly illegal choices.

> SPIRITUAL RECLAMATION
One thing that was significant in Meadowlark's world before the Aerie was a complete lack of religious or spiritual devotion, at least on a major scale. Smaller sects like the tiny cult in New Amsterdam were exceptions that ultimately proved the rule. After all, they didn't even have any written doctrine about their belief systems.

Things begin to change. Some of those changes are obvious, while others are less so—at first.

The first sign of this is in various preachers who take up spots on street corners to preach about the end of the world. With a muddled and confused ideology, these people build little podiums for themselves to speak about the end times: the Aerie was proof that humanity is only buying itself time before an inevitable end—and eventually, the gods will punish them for what they did. While the initial preachers will not have a clear messaging system, this will change in the coming weeks. In fact, it'll seem as if they're all deriving their ideology from the same place—even while located in different megacities.

Quietly, tiny religious communities begin to spring up. With real estate already in shambles before the Aerie, much of the construction has come to a halt in order for people to begin to psychologically heal. As a result, various warehouses throughout the megacities begin to be converted into spiritual centers. At first, these locales will be innocuous in nature, but in time, there will be a clear set of imagery connected to them. Some of that imagery will link back to the Aerie (with a lot of birds, as well as ties to either the Cardinals or the gods), or to the sacred geometry imagery that's been connected to the Displaced for some time.

These spiritual centers may simply be people squatting illegally, but it's not as if any of the various local police departments have the resources to stomp them out. It seems that the UN also views this religious devotion as harmless, at least compared to the other problems that could arise.

> NATURE'S RECLAMATION
Plants and a handful of animals have been at it for a while, but the world is definitely in the process of experiencing a second coming of … fauna? Some are springing up unexpectedly outside of walls, while others are inside of the walls themselves in many megacities. Did you know that pigeons were an uncommon sight in 2512? Well, were is an appropriate word for it. They're no longer uncommon. And what about that river in New Amsterdam? Never one to be a place for fishing, it's now filled to the brim with freshwater fish.

Want to go fishing? New Amsterdam will eventually require a license for it, but it's still early days. There aren't any fishing poles around to purchase, but someone can probably fashion one themselves if they have the know-how.

There will also be more wild insects. Pest control was a thing of the past for this world, but with all these new creatures showing up all over, that's going to be a concern once again. Unless, of course, it's prevented.

> SAFEHOUSE

Not long after their arrival, the new Displaced will be brought across the city to an abandoned hover-bike garage in a neighborhood that's clearly seen better days.

Located under said hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. The inside of this safehouse looks better than the outside, as it was beginning to be transformed into a training center by Ian Fowler. Once everyone is brought into the safehouse down below, they'll find no one waiting for them. Though Gaby, a Morningstar agent, is typically around, she's absent at this time. Any newbies will need to be filled in by their fellow Displaced, though they can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.

The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large number of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care, and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is mostly nonexistent in the safehouse, with any past efforts that were made to change that destroyed by numerous attacks along the way.

◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and be provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.

◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, though it's running low because it hasn't been restocked since before the previous set of arrivals.

◉ While the kitchen has a lot of dried foods to cook, as well as canned and preserved vegetables, most of what's left in the fridge will need to be tossed. In addition, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be pretty much nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.

◉ Along those same lines, newcomers will find that this is a world that is steeped in sustainable choices. Paper is a thing of the past. Ever used a bidet regularly? This world gives everyone a crash course in exactly what that feels like if they haven't done that before.

◉ Everyone will receive a modest stipend of credits from Morningstar to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.

◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.

◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network upon arrival to the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous—and they do not have inboxes yet.

◉ New characters also do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.

◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power, either. Time to sit tight.

◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until AUGUST 27, 2512 (JANUARY 23, 2020). These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and log comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed to roam free once they enter the safehouse. Meaning: they'll have to sit tight until August 27, 2512 ICly.

All characters will appear as @anonymous on the network. While sitting tight in the safehouse, it's expected that they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.

If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment!

For questions pertaining to this log (and because we accidentally forgot to drop a questions header here, our bad!), please refer to our questions thread on the OOC post.

The January CR meme for the month is here.

Please check out our Event #011 Wrap Up Post for a rundown of all of the changes brought about through the AU, as well as any world changes that will be apparent moving forward.

As we announced on the wrap up post, AC will remain halved until at least June 2021. That said, for the month of January, we're making things check-in only because of the state of the world.

Finally, we'll be back to our standard planned calendar and AC (halved, just to be clear) on February 1, 2021. Reserves will open on January 23, 2021.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[gossipkinesis]

[ It almost feels wrong that he doesn't know every facet of her life when in the Aerie, it felt like he did. And she cant stop feeling a whiplash of emotions, her eyes moving to the bartender as they work at the other end of the bar on some drink or something.]

It's not all unicorns and rainbows. It's mostly fucked up shit. [ She glances at him.] Killing gods, going on quests, bargaining firstborns, evading dickhead fairies. [ Is she joking?

No. She's not. Still, she takes a long drag of her drink before she lets out her own amused huff.] I did what I needed to survive and keep my friends and my kingdom safe. And I still couldn't manage that in the end.

[livrer]

Because you were brought here? Or because of something else?

[ Never mind that yes, her list of 'fucked up shit' indeed sounded ... well, fucked up. Bargaining firstborns and evading fairies? She did say that she'd been pulled into stories. He just didn't consider they might be fairytales.

That feeling of wrongness, of emptiness, even, sits still in him, and he feels remiss. He feels like he should know everything about her, and yet he doesn't. Not really.

He downs his next glass with less purpose, but the heaviness of heart remains. ]

[gossipkinesis]

Kind of a heavy topic for a date-- [ The words come out before she can stop them, remenants of old feelings from a life that was never real had ushered them forward out of her mouth unfiltered. And the moment she says them, she feels fucking foolish.

So she's quick to push forward through them, to play them off.] At least that's what I would have said there, right? [ Or something. Fuck.

She keeps pushing forward.] When you fuck with magic, even with good intentions, magic fucks you. And I don't know if this was magic but it feels like we got royally fucked. And not the fun kind.

[livrer]

[ Booker glances up, the words catching him off guard as well. But he doesn't make a big deal of it and when he meets her eyes, it's with a small smile. A shrug. ]

Yes. [ Well, it's not untrue. ] That does sound like what you might say there.

[ And if they were there, he can imagine himself laughing a little, curious to know more anyway, leaning into her space. And they wouldn't be talking for long either.

He closes his eyes for a second to push the thoughts out of his head, a hand automatically going for the bottle again when, in the other reality it might capture her fingers with his instead. He needs a refill. ]

It's a give and take, non? With magic. Like — ah, alchemy. You can't make something from nothing, you can't take something without giving something back either.

[gossipkinesis]

It's about balance, yes-- [ she nods, thinking that is probably something fairly obvious about magic, something you see in most media about the subject. It is about give and take, if you take too much...]

And apparently killing a god is a big fucking no-no even if you're trying to save a whole world. [ She downs her drink and feels a familiar tingling sensation. Maybe she should slow down but also fuck that. Fuck the way she's feeling right now, she wanted to kiss him when he looked at her, when he smiled at her with that smile she was always so keen to earn back... there.]

Does magic exist where you're from?

[livrer]

Killing gods. I'm hearing a lot about gods these days.

[ Booker remembers seeing a few of them chained up in the Volary shortly before he and Kai left for the fights down below. He thinks back on his conversation with Cassian not long ago.

It's always gods. ]

Magic exists in a manner of speaking. Card tricks, vanishing rabbits in hats, freeing oneself from chains. [ He'd met Houdini once. Wasn't too fond of the man. ] All fake; tricks, as far as I can tell.

[ He lets out a breath, goes for his glass again. ]

But some might call what I am back home ... some kind of magic.

[ So far he hasn't really talked a lot about it, mostly because it doesn't matter anyway. Here, he and his family are no longer immortal, and any cut or bruise they acquire heals at the same rate as anyone else's. But here, no one could capture and torture them for something they don't have either. ]

I can't die back home. No one knows why or how.

OMG I DIDN'T REALISE IT WAS MY TURN

[gossipkinesis]

So am I.

[ and she doesn't like it one bit, if she were being honest. Killing gods leads to serious consequences, although she isn't quite sure what they'd be now that she has no real magic being stuck here.

But her thoughts are interrupted as he speaks, she finds herself captivated by the sound of his voice, feels warm remembering the sound of it whispered against her skin in dark corners or tangled in the sheets of her bed.

Blinking at those memories, she glances back down at her glass as he continues to speak and...

She looks back at him, her eyebrows lift in surprise.] You can't die? [ For a moment, she thinks of the benefits of such a thing however, the reality of it sinks in too.] So... does that mean you really can't die? As in you are... ageless?

it's okay!!! i'm just glad you found the notif c':

[livrer]

[ In the moment Margo speaks, more to ask him questions than anything, Booker resumes taking another swig from his glass. It eases out the truth, makes all of this feel less like a secret. He can guess a few reasons why, but he wants her to know more about him — the real him and not the alternate ladder-climbing Rook that he was in the Aerie.

And then he nods the affirmative. ]

Ageless from the moment of my first death, oui. [ It's why he is the physical age that he is now, but also why it's been 250 years and he still looks exactly the same, free of battle scars and all. All of those years seem to mean nothing but yet each year also passes with painful agony, the kind of loneliness only understood through experience. ] I suppose with the four hundred-some years that have passed since I woke up in this future, that would technically make me nearly seven-hundred.

[ How's that for some shit, huh? ]

And I'm not even the oldest.

and again i was robbed of a notif!

[gossipkinesis]

Vampire or...? [ She asks him as easily as if she's asking him what his star sign is. Because honestly, it sounds like it but at the same time, she can't recall any sort of need for blood with him. But she realizes that might be offensive and she offers another alternative:] Some kind of curse, demi-god thing?

[ there's another pause.] You look great for seven hundred.

prays this goes through

[livrer]

[ Booker laughs. ]

No, not at all — though there have been a couple of stories in the past accusing my brother Nicky of just that. [ They're pretty funny, actually. ] I'm not sure why we can't die or where this physiology comes from. I don't know why it affects a few of us, and I don't know why me and not someone else, someone who might want to live a long life. I'm no different from anyone other person except that I can't die.

[ Does he sound a little bit bitter about it? Possibly. But he is working on that, working on accepting this seemingly endless life and all of the things that come along with it. He won't put his family through his bullshit again, not when they're only just getting around to accepting him once more.

There's another laugh, more amused now. ]

Merci.

<333

[gossipkinesis]

[ She can't deny that she is relieved that he isn't a vampire. Vampires back home are... gross and fairly irredeemable unlike so many other canons.

Of course, his words capture her full attention now, her eyes searching his face as she hears the bitterness in his voice. It makes sense that he's fucking bitter. he can't die and he doesn't know why. That would piss her off and drive her nuts if she were being honest.]

I don't know how you deal with not having answers. It would make me... crazy.

[ However when he laughs and she relishes in that sound. She remembers how eager she'd been to earn that very sound from him in another life, how that sound would warm her and make her laugh in turn.

She glances down at her glass as a thought settles in her mind and a smile passing her lips.] So I have this crazy idea...

[livrer]

I deal with it by making some very bad decisions.

[ Turning drinking into a sport being one of them. (Demonstrated by draining the rest of his glass.) How many has it been now? Does it even matter?

But her next comment has him intrigued, has him turning his full attention on her in a way that feels so familiar — when he'd gravitated towards her at a fancy Volary party; when he followed her into the gardens; when he'd followed her into her room; when he'd followed her into her bed. ]

Crazier than the endless drinks and conversation about magic?

[ His smile echoes hers, his sarcasm lacking any bite. ]

[gossipkinesis]

Sounds like something I would do. [ Or, at least, something she would have used to have done before she became high queen/king. Being reckless and careless wasn't an option once she had a kingdom to look after. ]

Oh, that's a normal Friday for me, [ she throws her head back with a laugh before look at him, lips twitching. Now, if it's the alcohol coursing through her or just her usual bold nature, she isn't sure but it doesn't stop her from saying: ] I think we should go back to your place or mine and just get this out of our systems.

[livrer]

[ At her laughter, he turns away for a moment, long enough to get to refilling both of their glasses. The conversation feels less heavy, at least, even if the air around them still feels thick with something else.

And when Margo calls it out plainly, as is very much like her, Booker doesn't falter, doesn't really seem perplexed by the suggestion. But his lips curve upwards. ]

'This'? [ — is all he repeats in the midst of pouring himself another glass.

He pauses, glass only partially refilled, and then puts the bottle down. He studies her, long enough to see whether she's joking about it or the suggestion is a very real one.

And then he nods, deciding. ]

My place might not be ideal. [ In case any one of his family might happen to head home a little earlier than usual. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ For a moment, she thinks she made a misstep and she doesn't understand why her heart sank, her stomach twisting with worry. And when he smiles, she finds herself smiling too, her lips curved in a conspiratorial way.

She takes a long sip of her drink and nods, she gets it.] I have roommates but it shouldn't be a problem. [ she raises her eyebrows.] Or we can get a hotel nearby.

[livrer]

Ah — and that, I suppose, depends on how much privacy you prefer.

[ Booker might seem all cool and collected, but he feels a buzzing along his skin, the anticipation of wanting to feel her again. Relive the moments they had in the Aerie; see if they feel the way he thinks he remembers them.

He is also drunk and she is beautiful.

But he'll leave the ultimate decision to her. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ She knows she's risking sounding overeager or not exactly... smooth. But she's feeling the same thing he is, that need to just feel that connection again in any form, to free her mind and even her heart from that sense of mourning she's been going through since they'd been brought back.

Surely, fucking him would show her that there's no real feelings there, that those feelings were fake, implanted and cannot be replicated.]

The hotel is closer, [ she says it matter-of-factly but she's also drunk and really wants to get this out of her system, to get him out of her mind and heart.]

[livrer]

Hotel it is, then.

[ It would have been his preference anyway. Not that he's ashamed or anything, shame being one of those hang-ups he cannot be bothered with in his age, but it's complicated enough trying to rectify the way he feels about her when there may or may not be another presence in the next room.

Like Margo, he wants the lingering feeling — the ache and the pull of her — to disappear with his memories of the Aerie. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ And if she were being honest, the distance of the hotel only played half a part in the decision to go there. The other half was being able to make a clean getaway, to not have to worry about lingering afterward, they'd be forced to get dressed and go home.

So the hotel it is.

She slips off the stool and smooths out her clothing before she glances at him with a smirk.] Bring the bottle. [ They paid for it after all, right?]

[livrer]

[ That they did. ]

I wouldn't think to do otherwise.

[ It would be a waste of the rest of perfectly fine alcohol, and if there's one thing Booker simply cannot abide by: it's wasting alcohol.

He follows suit, getting to his feet and snatching the bottle on his way out. He'll walk alongside her as they step into the evening air; it's still humid even with the sun gone. It's all casual and Booker keeping a polite distance — even when a part of him is imagining running his hands along her sides, sliding her skirt off of her hips.

Goddamnit. ]

You know of a specific hotel nearby, I assume?

[ Since she'd mentioned it and all. ]

[gossipkinesis]

I do. [ She hadn't stayed there or even gone in before but she'd walked by enough times on the way to the bar to know it was there.

She points down the block to the sign that sticks out the side of a building that reads: HOTEL.

Margo looks quite satisfied as grins at him, only having to avert her gaze because she remembers (or not) the way his mouth feels against her neck, moving lower.] Will that one do?

[livrer]

I don't know how I never noticed that before.

[ Huh.

Booker almost thinks to laugh because it really is about as nearby as a hotel could be without being right next door. ]

It will do just fine, I think. Let's go.

[gossipkinesis]

[ Margo does laugh as she leads him down the street.] And to think you always seemed so much more observant than me. [ She moves to take his arm but stops short of doing so when she... well, remembers, that none of it was real.

She has no right to take his arm, she has no real experience with him to know if he's actually observant or not. They are strangers and yet they are not. But thankfully, the journey to the hotel is short. And it takes no time to get a room and up into it.

Once in the room, she doesn't allow for any time for awkwardness to set in. As soon as the door closes behind them, she goes for it, pulls him in close to kiss him and does something with him that feels as familiar as breathing and yet, it feels like a dream to her now.

And that's what makes it so earth-shatteringly good, that sends her head and heart spinning out of control. Every kiss, every touch, each time their bodies move together just so it feels like a dream fulfilled. By the end of it, by the time she collapses against the bed spent and exhausted, she thinks Good, now he'll be out of my system.

Of course, as the fog of her orgasms abate, she realizes the mistake she's made. Because as she lays there, trying to catch her breath, a smile she cannot suppress curving her lips, she realizes that the way her heart is thumping in her chest only half has to do with the physical activity they just engaged in.

And it's then she understands that she doesn't think she can ever be satisfied with doing this just this once.

Fuck. ]

[livrer]

[ It would be easy enough to make comparisons to the man he was in the Aerie, while lying here; to draw the differences out and see himself — the real Booker — in a lesser light. It wouldn't be the first time, and it certainly won't be the last either.

But the entire time he is with Margo, the lines become blurred, and it's like they're able to bring what they had in the Aerie to life, here.

Exactly, yes, like a dream fulfilled.

It doesn't do what they'd set out to accomplish, drinking at Red Wings and then coming here to fuck each other out of their systems. It doesn't feel just physical and they aren't detached from the people that they were in that other reality, not entirely.

But he doesn't know what all of this means either.

He lies beside her, breathing deeply, staring up at the ceiling with its patchy plasterwork covering what had obviously been an invasion of vines, the hairline cracks tracing the pattern of where a stubborn plant had only recently tried to overtake the building, and the rest of New Amsterdam with it.

The natural thing to do would be to lean in, drape an arm across Margo's waist and pull her close. She would laugh or say something about needing a drink, and he would laugh and agree. But he stays where he is instead, tilting his head only to look in her direction — not like someone she might have met a couple of times, but like someone who has known her for years. ]

[gossipkinesis]

[ It would be so natural to laugh, to insist on a drink, to curl up in his arms, to kiss him more and eventually fall into it again.

But even as the heat and pleasant remnants of pleasure linger, it is something like panic that creeps up on her now. She does not feel the way she expected to, she does not feel as though they are finished now, that this act could be a period on the end of a sentence that is their story.

Clean breaks are Margo's specialty (or well, she always manages to break clean and sometimes leaves other shattered in the process). But as she lays there trying to catch her breath, as she turns to look at him and catches him looking at her first, she knows there is no clean break to be had.

That wasn't fucking. That was something else.

She turns her head back to stare up at the ceiling, reaches up to brush her hair back with her fingers, none of her post-sex one-liners coming to mind. Instead, she wishes she could read his mind, to know what he is feeling or thinking or...]

That was as good as I remember it being.