you want to hear it? well —

[happyheartsstaff]

ONLY, MY SECRET'S MINE, AND I WON'T TELL

The garden may no longer be available upon return to the hotel, but there is still a bustle of energy. How fortunate all the Oysters are, to reside in such a renowned place! It's a great honor for those in Wonderland to be granted opportunity to teach their skills or ply their trade here, and the Queen permits only the best. Hotel staff themselves seem to delight in the presence of the traveling merchants. Many trade teas or favors for enchanted items, and will eagerly discuss their purchases. "Oh, it happens regularly enough," they will say if asked, "but you never know if the merchant you liked or the item you eyed will be back next time!"

The talk lingers after the guest instructors and merchants have departed, but it isn't the only thing left behind. Glimmers of green may catch your eye, tucked away in hidden places that seem almost impossible to reach without drawing attention to yourself. Those who manage it will find a scrap of heavy paper with a drawing of a stylized caterpillar, a series of numbers, and the words call a friend.

Are you curious enough to input the numbers into your Empathy? It will ring, if you do, until an answering machine picks up and asks a single question — How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail? Do you dare leave a message? What will it be? Whatever you decide, the call will disconnect after a few minutes. It seems the only thing you can do now is wait for a call back.

But of course, the hotel is not in the habit of allowing such a thing as idle waiting. Her Royal Highness has noticed that some of her beloved Oysters seem quite reluctant to partake of the many splendors that the hotel provides, and she will be offering a special treat — indulgence.

QUEEN'S GAMES

8/12 - 8/22

What's more fun to indulge in than a little healthy competition? It's time for the Queen's Games, a truly dazzling spectacle. Competitors come from all over Wonderland, and this year for the first time ever, Oysters are invited to join! Announcements for the games schedule will be posted all throughout the hotel, along with directions on how to register to join.

The games will be held in either the pool area or the gym, which seems to have expanded to accommodate the number of spectators. Available games include:

• archery
• chess
• croquet
• artistic swimming
• diving
• gymnastics
• flamingo flying
• ice skating
• ice sculptures

Of course, even the games that Oysters are familiar with may not be quite the same. Chess in Wonderland is a team sport, for example, with each member of the team filling a role as a chess piece and a coach as a strategist directing the plays. Attempting to capture one of the other team's pieces includes having to successfully win a fight against them. Gymnastics and diving competitors include growing and shrinking in size to their routines, ice sculptures come to life when they've been completed, artistic swimmers and ice skaters change costumes and swap partners in the blink of an eye.

If they're lucky, Oysters may find one of the competitors willing to show them the ropes. If they're even luckier, or more persistent, there may be a spot or two open on one of the teams that Oysters can slot themselves into. For the most part, team members will be delighted to have Oysters there.

"You all just feel so much," one may say, sounding a little awed.

"Show off those emotions, it'll get us points," another will add.

Although competitors are friendly, with Osyters and with each other, it's clear that most of them are here to win. Rivalries may flare up throughout the month, ex-lovers may be reunited and broken up again, infighting may spark among the teams — all things that can be soothed or exacerbated, for Oysters who may have inclinations towards utilizing such things to increase their chances of winning.

Or to fan the flames of drama for its own sake.

THE CALL

8/16

Starting in the early morning hours and continuing late into the night, any who left a message will get a call back.

Those who completed the poem will be greeted immediately by a friendly male voice, with an apology for the delay. "Ugh, our lines are backed up like crazy," the caller will say. "Where are you reporting in from?"

Those who somehow identified themselves as an Oyster, as residing in the hotel, from off world, being held by the Queen, or otherwise potentially against the Queen, will have their call returned by a cold female voice, guarded and wary.

"Show me your Oyster mark," the caller will request. "We can't risk giving you anything without proof."

Regardless of which caller contacts them, anyone who cooperates will receive similar information.

The friendly caller will readily provide assurances that the resistance base was not found, despite Mad March and the Order's attempt at reconnaissance in the old kingdom.

"Can't say much more than that over these channels, you know, but worry not! Everyone is safe. We have a follow up from the last mission — sorry about the air conditioning, you know, couldn't be helped — you ready for this? Keycodes. Access keycodes. Didn't get more than a handful, of course, and the intel is vague about what they access. Are we glad to get your call! How about it, you ready to try one out and see what information you can get?"

The guarded caller will allude to the Order not being able to find what they wanted out in the ruins.

"Did you think they took you out there to show you the sights? They're looking for us, obviously. No I'm not going to tell you more than that — just because you're an Oyster doesn't mean we can completely trust you. All right, look. Last time we broke into the hotel, we recovered a few access codes. We had to get out of there before we could find out what they accessed. How about a trade? We give you the code, you call us back and tell us what you find."

INDULGENCE

8/13 - 8/23

Throughout the event, there will be a number of activities available alongside the games designed to encourage unwinding. A concert set up in the hotel lobby will kick off the start of the games, at which indulgence teas will be made available for the first time. They will continue to be served readily at all hours of the day. Enhanced spa facilities will be made available as well — dazzling pedicures and manicures with nail polish that can do anything from change colors based on your mood to emit light so bright it can function as a flashlight; makeup that gives you a kiss that will literally stun the recipient; aromatherapy that will cure any kind of hangover; oils that double as aphrodisiacs, for those interested; healing massages that will take away your aches and pains, wiping away any bruises or injuries with no questions asked. A clean slate, ready to indulge again.

Then, of course, there are the less official activities. Whispers will begin to spread about another kind of competition being run after hours, when all good competitors should be sleeping. No one quite knows who's running it — one person heard it was the coach of one of the chess teams, eager to get her players extra practice; another heard it was one of the chess players themselves; still another will say it is an ice skater, a flamingo pilot, a gymnast. After all, it hardly matters, does it, as long as it runs, and there is a fight every night? Oysters are welcomed into this competition as well, where the only rule is not to kill your opponent. Teas of all kinds exchange hands as bets are placed on the fights, and the champion is rumored to receive a truly spectacular prize.

If fighting is not to your speed, fear not. All of the competitors seem to have different ways to unwind after the games are completed for the day, and all are happy to allow Oysters to indulge in attending the various get-togethers and parties they host. The knight on one of the chess teams has the most renowned wine collection, and he's brought some of his finest with him to be enjoyed alongside cheeses and poetry. One of the swimmers is a passionate musician, and has recruited anyone who can play an instrument to discuss musical theory and play together. A croquet player is known for hosting the wildest parties, with free-flowing moonshine and sips of ecstacy tea readily available. There is a flamingo pilot with a book club, an archer who is a fabulous chef, a diver who is a skilled debater with a wicked tongue — whatever you like to indulge in, chances are, someone's throwing a party for it.

The games will end on the 23rd, with a roaring celebration of all who participated in the competition. The pool area will be taken over for the farewell party, with music, food, alcohol, and dancing available. It is here that the winners of the competitions will be announced, and prizes will be awarded.

If you have any questions, please leave them over here! Results for the access code sign ups and the distractions will go out on the 14th, so players have until then to sign up. Characters can use the keycodes to access areas and cause distractions from the 16th through the 23rd — and beyond, but after the final party they may no longer have an easy excuse. If you wish to have your character compete in one of the competitions for the prizes, you can sign up here! Winners will be RNGed.

PREMISE RULES FAQ TAKEN RESERVES APPLICATION MOD CONTACT HIATUS & DROPS WORLD INFO NPCS CALENDAR AC REWARDS PLAYER CONTACT

© tessisamess

Comments

[earthborn]

She looks at him flat-eyed and still a little sour. One thing Shepard wasn't up for, was being someone's little lab experiment. Never again. And maybe, in a sane and normal world, he wouldn't have been suggesting that. It may not be his intention, even now, but...

Well, they aren't currently inhabiting a world that could be called sane. Or normal.

"How does somebody get to be a cultivator, anyways?" she asks, quite as if the pause had been for actual contemplation and not just brooding, "You just... learn it somewhere? Anybody can do it?"

[sadflutenoises]

He's not sure what he said to deserve that look, but alcohol has him just a little fuzzy, but it's hardly enough to keep him from smiling. As much as he likes asking Shepard about her world, he likes running his mouth just as much.

"The concept is simple, but not everyone is born with the capacity to do it," he starts, getting a better understanding of how Shepard feels, explaining something so basic in her own world to someone who has no concept of it.

"The act of cultivation in and of itself is just self-improvement. Improving your martial arts, mystical arts, and manipulating your qi, more or less" he explains, "but not everyone has the innate ability to do all of those things. At least, all of them well enough to form a golden core."

He downs the rest of his drink, before setting it down, still toying with it as he continues, "before you ask, a golden core mmm... it's like, using the body as a crucible and your qi as raw material, you form a core? Anyway, once you've formed it, you want to build upon it, strengthen it, all that. There's different ways to do so, different schools, different thoughts on what makes them strongest. How's that?"

[earthborn]

"And qi is...?"

From context, it must be something fairly basic. Sure, she's seen a few kung-fu vids, who hasn't, but there was that and then there was the intervening decade of combat, trauma, death, revival, and everything else. Don't fault her if her first thought isn't barely-remembered cultural artifacts from ten years ago and a country she's never actually visited.

She doesn't even know if there still is a China, come to think of it. The Reapers went after leadership first, she can remember that much.

"And, it's just something you do once, then you got it?" The way he talks it sounds almost like bodybuilding. But then, also, like a technology. Organic, home-grown technology. Excrete it yourself! "You just have to.... upgrade it."

[sadflutenoises]

He blinks. Really? They don't even have qi? It's kind of a startling realization for him. Didn't every living thing have it? Even if they were unaware of it flowing in their body, they should still know it exists, right?

"Oh, right ah..." he's a bit muddled by the question, and has to fumble for the answer, "it's like um. A life force? An energy that flows through you."

But at the rest, he nods, "right, you only need to form a core, well, can only form it, the once."

His hand hovers at his lower dantian, just below his navel, to gesture about where in the body it sits, physically, "once you have it, it stays, but you have to feed it, to grow stronger, yeah. The body is always generating it, but it takes focus to direct it, cultivate it, into what you need it to be."

Upgrade was kind of a strange word to use, but he supposes it's not altogether wrong.

[earthborn]

"Okay, so. You just get good at specific skills and the Golden Core just... shows up, there's no specific process? You definitely make it sound like something that doesn't happen by accident, but...?" She gestures with one hand, wrist a loose circle, slowly easing out of her previous tension, "Martial Arts, I get that."

As if this evening's demonstration hadn't proven as much.

"And I'm guessing mystical arts, this qi stuff, it's work, but it's just another kind of drill, right? Repetition, refine technique, read a book, go back to step one. Yeah?"

[sadflutenoises]

"I mean, it doesn't just show up, you do have to make a conscious effort to form one, but you also have to be good enough at manipulating your qi to do so, if that makes sense?"

Plenty of people had the potential to form one, and never did. Or, like Mo Xuanyu, could only form something small and terribly weak.

"But yeah, more or less. There's a lot of different sects that study cultivation and of course, they all think their methods are the best, but it comes down to a lot of the same things."

He shrugs, leaning forward a little, the warmth of his drink making it much easier to smile.

"There's other ways to cultivate though, even if you can't form a core. People don't like to talk about those, cuz they're unorthodox, but..." he trails off with an uncaring pfffff and another shrug.

[earthborn]

"Not so rules and regs, are you?" She doesn't approve, but neither is she going to call him out; she's operated outside the law plenty, and can respect the impulse, "No right answers, only trade-offs?"

See the right answer, in her book, was the one that got the best results for the problem at hand. Which meant that there was no best answer that lasted longer than engagement with the enemy. Or something like that.

"Hit me. I want to hear the forbidden knowledge," Shepard sips from her drink, smirking, "I'm tough, I can take it."

[sadflutenoises]

"Rules and I have a complicated relationship," he sniffs. Mostly, he didn't like rules that kept him from growing, thinking in new ways, or trying new things.

"I don't think they're bad, I just don't think they should always be followed without question," he looks down at his empty glass and waves for another, "knowing why a rule exists is almost as important as the rule itself."

Reasons like because I said so just didn't inspire him with a driving need to obey.

"Forbidden knowledge," he repeats with laughter in his voice, nodding a couple of times, "okay. So, here's a common question for new cultivators. Let's say there is an executioner, with parents, wife, and children. In his lifetime, he's executed over a hundred people. He dies, but the proper rites aren't performed, so his spirit is full of resentment and he starts to haunt and kill. What should be done?"

Shepard obviously wouldn't know, so he only leaves the question to hang for a slight moment before pushing onward.

"Cultivators would have you believe there's only three ways. Liberate the spirit; usually by granting its final wish or something like that. Suppress it, by sealing it away or putting it to rest, performing the rites it wanted, whatever. Or eliminate it, which is kinda self explanatory."

To be fair, it did make a lot of sense. But thinking those were the only ways to take care of the situation was a narrow way of thinking.

"I thought, hey, it's easier to divert a river than it is to dam it up, so why wouldn't their resentful energy be the same? Instead of forcing it to stop, why not stir up the spirits of the people he executed and get them to take care of the problem?"

[earthborn]

"Huh."

Is it easier to divert a river than dam it up? Shepard isn't so sure. But then, what she doesn't know about public works engineering could fill an entire profession.

"Efficient. I see the appeal."

She thinks about it a minute, chewing through the idea with her usual method. What best served? What were the consequences? What was best, most efficient? She'd been faced with not-dissimilar hairs to split before...

"...Also sounds like the kind of thing that gets heavily-armed people coming around your house uninvited," Shepard says, evenly. If she came from somewhere where being revived as a husk was common, and this asshole was partly in charge of making sure it didn't happen... Well, she doesn't. But her own galaxy isn't so dissimilar as to make all comparison impossible, "I'm not saying I disagree, tough problems have tough solutions. I'm just saying, as someone who's done a lot of killing on behalf of the state, I wouldn't be best pleased if that might be the ultimate reward for all my service. But hey, there's that and then there's murder, right? I can see a use."

[sadflutenoises]

It did get a bit long-winded, and he's glad when his next drink arrived, even if he's only sipping at it.

"It is exactly that," he agrees, having faced the sharp end of more swords than he could count for doing just that, "efficient, and a great way to gain enemies."

"I admit, it's not my first choice, of course," he adds, in case that wasn't clear, "but if it's the only path open to you? Nice to know it's there."

As for being worried about what awaits after death, it's hard to offer insight on what he can't remember of his own experience, but if it's any comfort...

"I can teach you how to perform the rites, if it helps? That's part of what cultivators do, is assure spirits rest peacefully before resentment can take hold, whenever possible."

[earthborn]

"Hm," Shepard rarely hesitated, and those who knew her would have spotted the quality of this pause immediately. But then she shook her head, "Nah. I see the value of having another option in my back pocket, but... I really don't believe in any of this shit. I'm not even completely sure any of this is real."

She gestured, a risky maneuver with the drink in that hand, and it sloshed the circle as she indicated the whole of the world around them. The walls, the hotel, the staff, the party.... the lot of it.

"I knew a man once who told me that he'd spent years dead. It wasn't the same, but... I think he'd like you a lot, if you two met. He was an assassin. Thane Krios. Trade you stories instead, Wei Wuxian; give me a good one about that one time you fucked up."

She's sure there are many.

[sadflutenoises]

He wants to point out, that when they first met, she'd been rather annoyed that he didn't believe most of the claims she'd made about her world, but he supposes that outside of making a piece of paper dance around, he hadn't exactly shown much in the way of backing up his claims. And at least it wasn't just his claims, it was, well, everything.

Being dead for years is something he experienced, but not anything he has a concrete memory of. He just... wasn't, and now, here he is. Still, he can appreciate the idea, and nods.

"One time?" he echoes, smile gone a little hazy around the edges, "it was... more of a slow stumble down, lots of little fuck ups, that led to one really big one. But that's ah... that's a bit of a downer."

He had plenty of lesser ones too, and nowhere that punished them more strongly than the Lan clan of Gusu. Wei Wuxian lights up a bit at that thought, choosing a much more (in his mind at least) amusing story.

"Oh, oh. I've got a good one, okay," his smile widens, "so one of the places I was studying, their sect has three thousand rules. It's ridiculous. No running, no loud voices, no talking out of turn, no fun."

He takes a deep pull from his glass, "when I first showed up, I broke like five of them without even knowing! And then, well, a whole lot more after I did know. They prohibit alcohol, of course. So I-"

Wei Wuxian breaks off into a laugh, "so I got the head disciple drunk off his ass! The sect leader- ha- the sect leader was so pissed off, we had to take 300 strikes from these massive wooden paddles. I was so sore, I could barely walk!"

[earthborn]

In fairness to Wei Wuxian, it wasn't just him she was disbelieving, it was every evidence of her own eyes since arriving. Most days she gets by and accepts it for real, but... She's tired, man. Existential crises do not sleep, even if Shepard eventually has to.

"Wait, they paddled you? What kind of place is this?"

[sadflutenoises]

"Gusu Lan sect is really strict," he wrinkles his nose, "and yeah, the paddles were almost as tall as me! I think the other disciples enjoyed it way too much, they were pretty enthusiastic about smacking me black and blue."

Luckily Lan Xichen had suggested the healing cold pools, but even so, 300 was excessive! And he'd had to endure with as much stoicism as he could so he didn't let Lan Wangji show him up. Completely unfair.

"Okay, okay, what's yours?"

[earthborn]

That....wasn't what she meant. What kind of weird, kinky— this whole Cultivator thing had been sounding supernatural, strange, otherworldly, but not beyond comprehension, but. Lining up all the disciples to spank one another? What the hell?

Actually, maybe she just didn't need to explore that.

"Uh..." She's gonna need to take a minute to recover from. Whatever the hell that story was. And what could she possibly follow it up with, "Well. One time..."

Geez, what to say?

"So, there's this place called Omega. Rough place, sort of lawless, and it's mostly run by these mercenary gangs who split the territory. I was looking for people to recruit, and I'd been told to go look for a guy; called himself Archangel. But by the time I find out where to go, he's somehow managed to piss off every singled mercenary boss in that whole region of the star-map, and then some. The place was like somebody kicked an anthill, and they had a cash reward for anybody willing to sign up to go in and collect Archangel's head. So, I.... joined a mercenary gang."

[sadflutenoises]

If there's anything weird about her reaction, he's a little too drunk to notice. Besides, listening to Shepard's stories takes most, if not all of his attention. Just as he'd thought, there's a a vocabulary lesson in the story, but at least Omega and Archangel are just names and not some strange new concept he has to wrap his head around.

As someone who enjoys poking around both literal and figurative anthills, he feels a sort of kinship with this Archangel person. At least so far. Hopefully he hadn't like, gone around killing babies or anything.

"Wait, where's the fuck-up part?" he slurs. It made sense to him; recruiting people, looking for strong allies, join up with a gang.

"Did he beat your asse- as- asses?"

[earthborn]

"No, no no-no-no-no. Well, a little. But No. I don't fuck up. Ever," Except that one time. But we don't need to talk about Thessia. The total destruction of a fifty-thousand year old civilization is kind of a mood killer, "...Though, he did shoot me."

She gestures just there, at her shoulder. Impact shot, dinged her shields and not much else, not even a mark through the armor.

"But it's fine. Turns out, Archangel is Garrus. So... my best friend, is a merc-hunting vigilante now. And so I gotta switch sides and fight every fuckin' gang in Omega in one huge, angry army. And then. They bring in the dropship and fire a rocket right into his face. His face. You ever see a Turian missing half his face? God. That was a shitty day."

[sadflutenoises]

He makes a skeptical sort of hum when she says she doesn't fuck up ever, but it seems rude to interrupt the story. Being shot by someone didn't mean they couldn't still be friends, he knew that well enough. Wei Wuxian had fought with most of his friends at one point or another. Even been stabbed a few times. No worse for the wear. And it sounded like Shepard's shooter was now her best friend, so it all worked out, right?

"I haven't even seen one with his whole face," he replies, "I don't even know where Turia is."

He could certainly relate to the horrors of war and battle though, having seen plenty in his time, plenty of torn up faces both living and dead.