chasma | WEEK ZERO MINGLE (overflow)

cittàgazze: week 0 mingle

the city of magpies

40 Remain

Looks like that storm's cleared up this morning! Places that were barred before are now available for exploration—you might want to check that out. In the distance, beyond the city, is the promise of great, rolling green hills and a thick treeline. Further still are looming cliffsides, just barely and fleetingly lit up at night by the beacon of the lighthouse. Attempts to traverse this treeline to reach the hills results in explorers getting turned around, before being spat back out facing the city. It's possible to lose a large chunk of time if one isn't careful with their exploration. Let the mods know if you keep trying, or stick around for longer than a couple of hours.

The city is still as vacant as it was during your arrival, with the only hint of life being those children that you've likely now encountered. There are still no adults to be seen—no one older than sixteen or so, if you're observant enough to keep watch for them—and they're all just as skittish (at best) or hostile (at worst) of anyone that happens to have a daemon with a feline form. They'll also throw small rocks and sticks at people that were responsible for breaking windows and busting down doors on Saturday and Sunday, though they'll run and scatter if you try to retaliate.

Whatever you plan on doing in the morning, it's all up to you. Enjoy yourselves, have some fun, break and enter some more. Whatever tickles your fancy, who are we to tell you what to do? There's more places for you to go, now, since the foreboding feeling has faded with the storm gone, and there is an entire city at your disposal. Go wild—surely there'll be no repercussions?

Come the afternoon, though, the locked door of the tower in the center of town opens up. Three figures emerge, cloaked and masked, accompanied by daemons of their own. For a moment or two, they speak with one another, voices low, before they turn, heading out from the tower and into Cigazze proper.

Any attempts to open the door after they leave—despite the fact that they obviously made no move to lock it—will show that it's gone back to not budging. Weird.

Each of the three hooded figures have a distinctly colored cloak with one being a shimmering gold that resembles the sun, the second with a glittering cloak the color of moonlight, and the last in one of blue with starlight like the night sky. Two of the three of them seemingly stand at the same height with the last one looming over the other two, and it's the one in the gold cloak that speaks up first—their hands laced together before them.

"H, hello, it's good to see everyone; I hope you've been well. Umm...I'm Shamsiel."

Despite their words trailing towards the end, their words are spoken gently as a small, nervous smile can be seen from under their mask. Around them a small bird circles above their head before landing on their shoulder to chirp a few times before taking off to the skies again.

Following Shamsiel's introduction, the one in silver lifts a hand to wave. They show none of the same shyness of their peer, a friendly smile showing under their hood as a small fox pads out to peer more closely at those they've come to greet. "You can call me Suriel. It's nice to finally meet you all!"

The final of the trio is the tallest and the one in the cloak of night, who stands with arms crossed under their layered cloak. Their daemon appears to actually be observing from a nearby rooftop rather than coming closer initially, head tilting to get a proper eagle's eye view on everyone. "Baraqiel. I see you've been just as busy as we've been."

Even with the obvious distance between them and their daemon, they don't seem to be in any of the discomfort that any of you have experienced with testing your own daemon bonds. They just stand behind their companions, apparently keeping an eye on things.

... well, since Baraqiel didn't say it. "We're the Celestial Watchers. You can talk to the Temporals, too, if you want - just ask for Satariel, Rameel, or Yomiel when you send a bottle and they'll come to you. But for now, it's just us. Ask us anything you want and we'll do our best to answer!"

Baraqiel shrugs and spreads their hands a little from under their cloak. Have at them.

With the start of a new week, travelers may find something... interesting happening around them. While this doesn't seem to have any effect on the local population, given that they don't have daemons to call their own, it does hit each and every one of you. At random, there appear to be hiccups of golden dust afflicting your daemons briefly. It doesn't cause them any pain, but they do appear to be abruptly shifting between their three forms at times. This can either just be a series of hiccups—changing between all three forms in a flicker, before returning to the one they had been in originally—or just a blip from one to another until either the next time they naturally change forms, or the next hiccup. This effect lasts all week.

And, no, you still don't have your things from home. Stay tuned.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[SIGHS.]

I suppose he appeals to children. You are about the same age as his daughter.

That's what I've heard.

[ anyway ] He's a detective, right? So he's still useful, even if he's silly.

He is a consulting detective, by which I mean to say he is a detective by his own words only. He is not affiliated with Scotland Yard. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is a proper police detective.

He said he's solved lots of mysteries.

... Well. Allegedly he has, yes. Records of the stories are published in Randst magazine, but they are quite obviously some level of fictionalized.

Really? I didn't know that...

I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned it. You might also ask miss Mikotoba about it.

Maybe he makes up stories for a good reason.

I wouldn't know. I do my work with a proper police detective.

[A pause.]
Or did, rather.

But not anymore?

He was murdered, very recently.

[Is this guy a downer or what?]

[ wow, tough luck. ]

Oh...

I'm sorry.

... You needn't be. It's fine.
[Is it???]

The person responsible was apprehended.

That's a good thing, but it doesn't change what happened.

[He's just quiet for a long time. Sometimes you are an emotionally constipated lawyer.]

Anyway, I think it best you stay here until we can account for everyone, miss Furude.

Okay. That sounds safe.

(no subject)

winebar - 2021-10-01 22:44 (UTC) - Expand

syndromed - 2021-10-01 22:47 (UTC) - Expand

winebar - 2021-10-01 22:49 (UTC) - Expand

. . . They are lightly fictionalized by the author, but they are based on real cases solved by Mr. Sholmes and his partner! Don't listen to Lord Van Zieks, Mr. Sholmes is a wonderful detective! Simply wonderful!

-Sholmes is married?!

[Rin no.]

[He has a wife. . . ]

His detective partner, of course. Dr. Wilson. The stories all concern this legendary duo solving crimes together.

[Somehow Rin didn't think someone would tolerate Sholmes long enough to marry him.]

Ohhhh. That makes more sense, yeah. They always work in pairs on those shows too.

You mean like a 'private eye'? That's the word for it right?

Edited 2021-10-02 13:15 (UTC)

[Googling tells me the term came from Pinkertons in 1884 so I'm going to say it didn't make it across the pond yet.]

I've never heard the term. As far as I know, Herlock Sholmes is the only self-styled "detective" in London.

It's like...uh...police, but they don't work for the police? Anyone can hire them and pay for them to solve a case. They're called 'private eyes' because usually they're hired to track down private shit, like a husband cheating on his wife and they get enough proof for the wife to divorce him and sue him for all that he's worth. They're looking in on private shit that the cops won't touch because they don't care about romance at all and probably have miserable marriages anyway.

[Rin definitely got his ideas on what detectives do from daytime television.]

Edited 2021-10-02 14:46 (UTC)

Then yes, that is the sort of individual Herlock Sholmes is. However he is far more given to intruding upon official police investigations than what you describe, if what Inspector Gregson tells me is accurate.

He must be the 'cocky asshole' kind of private eye then.