epidemiology | EVENT ★ WINTER WONDERLAND, THE RECKONING

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EVENT ★ WINTER WONDERLAND, THE RECKONING

HAPPY (NONDENOMINATIONAL) HOLIDAYS

When recruits arrive back at Oska, they'll find the place already full of other ALASTAIR teams visiting Oska, and the castle and grounds entirely decked out in festive cheer. The castle is draped in purple and white finery, with a light dusting of unmelting snow everywhere -- even inside, somehow. Don't worry, the indoor snow has been enchanted to be strangely warm.

Dagny has taken it upon herself to add a little plant life in and around the castle: mistletoe, of course. It can be spotted growing in little sprigs out of chinks in castle walls, around from wooden doorframes, or even sprouting out of other, unrelated trees. You're never really safe from mistletoe. And what would the use of mistletoe be without the enchantment?

Dagny has made sure that there are enough variant species of the mistletoe to offer something for everyone. Recruits may find themselves stuck under any manner of mistletoe, trapped until they fulfill the mistletoe geas.

The Classic: This is the standard magical mistletoe, that traps people in a lightly shimmering sphere until they exchange a kiss. Any kind of kiss will do, just pucker up!
The Papilion: This is similar to the classic, but its berries come in brilliant shades of orange and pink. It will only release its catch after a butterfly kiss.
Clinging Merriment: This mistletoe is all wrapped up in itself, and climbs whatever surface it's on in twisting spirals. All it wants from its catch is a hug, but make it a good one!
The Lively Stepper: This mistletoe seems to shiver in some unfelt breeze, and if you listen closely enough, there's a gentle chime of bells that fades when you lean away from it again. People stuck under this plant will have to dance together, to whatever music they can find or make.
Whispering Mary: This mistletoe comes with deep purple leaves and seems to hide within itself. Only after a secret has been shared from each person trapped under it will it flower open and release them.
Evening Gown: This mistletoe is a gaudy display, with brilliant green leaves and splendid white blossoms instead of berries. It will only release its catch after they compliment each other -- and the Evening Gown always knows when it hears a genuine compliment, and accepts no substitutions!
Catflowers: Dagny didn't put this kind out, and has named them after the suspected perpetrators. She's been trying to take them down when she finds them, but there might be a few she's missed. This thorny sprig of mistletoe will only release its catch after they've punched each other. Sorry about that.

THE WINTER BALL

Exciting news, passed from recruit to recruit and team to team: the castle will host a ball soon! It's set to be on the second night of team Audentes's arrival in Oska, and it's going to be a truly extravagant affair. Nothing to wear? No fear! The wardrobes in each recruit's room will open upon an enormous display of fancy clothing in a multitude of styles. Once you've settled on one (and somehow, the wardrobe knows the difference between trying on and settling on), the rest of the outfits vanish the next time it's closed.

The festivities start as soon as the sun begins to sink. Music filters through the air, growing louder to guide partygoers through the castle and into the dance hall, which was definitely not a room in existence until today. The music flows from no discernable source, sometimes swirling orchestral pieces, sometimes something with a heavier beat, for a different kind of dancing. The selection is as varied as the ALASTAIR teams tend to be. Listen long enough, and you might even hear something from your own home universe.

A large glass flower shimmers in the center of the room, under which various recruits have taken to leaving presents for one another. Be sure to stop by and check the brightly wrapped parcels for your name!

MirrorBowler

Team Audentes in particular gets a special gift. The north side of the room is decorated in an unmistakable Christmas theme, complete with an enormous, glittering tree. The care put into these decorations definitely has a personal touch, it might even outshine the rest of the hall's decor. Each member of the team has a lovingly wrapped box complete with a bow under this tree, and upon opening it will find a small, intricately detailed, never-melting ice sculpture of themselves -- very possibly in a ridiculous pose. Those who were acquainted with former teammate Nicholas St. North will find that their sculpture features two figures: themselves, and North himself.

And of course, what party would be complete without the food? The kitchen has really outdone itself with its spread of delicious foods, suited to all appetites and palates. From gently steaming roasted bird to strangely colored foreign piles of tiny quivering spheres, there's something for everyone. Including the alcoholics among us: the punch is delicately spiked with that incredibly strong drink of Nalawi, which leaves a pleasantly fruity aftertaste and an immediate alcoholic burn. (Any children partaking will find that their cups have somehow filtered out any alcohol and are strangely juice-only.)

ICE MAZE

Outside the castle, the courtyard has been transformed. Giant shimmering ice walls have sprung up seemingly overnight, forming endless, winding pathways: an ice maze.

Stepping into this beautiful, gleaming maze immediately cuts off all sound from the castle life around, so loud just a moment ago. Inside the maze is only the crunch of light snow underfoot, the sound of one's own breathing, and the echoes that bounce faintly here and there.

Throughout the maze one might find bits of warm, inviting clothing. A pair of bright red mittens, a puffy coat that fits perfectly to the wearer, a scarf woven in brightly colored, warm wool. If a maze-goer chooses to ignore and walk past this clothing, they might find that something begins to follow them. It starts as just an unsettling feeling, but put off accepting the clothing for long enough and it may turn into lurking shadows in the corner of an eye, a black shape that's there in one second and vanished in the next. A faint yowl may float down a corridor, vaguely feline if only it weren't so deep. Whatever that came from must have been large.

Accepting and wearing just one of the offered clothing chases away this unwanted visitor immediately, and in just five minutes more the ice maze will finally bring you out the other side. Don't take any of its gifts, though, and the maze may just lead you to meet the Yuletide Cat instead. (Which just so happens to be Cherenkov and Crowley sharing a giant cat costume. Don't laugh, they worked hard on it.)

THE VILLAGE

Far outside the castle, the village has been brought back to warm, glowing life. Or at least, that seems to be the case. Team Hearthstone was recently on a mission to recover an item called the Time Catch, and has used it to temporarily, visually turn time back to a time when the village of Oska was populated and lively.

Humanoid villagers, all in various shades of purple and blue, hurry to and fro, talking and laughing in a language that goes untranslated by the magitek jewelry. They don't react to any of the recruits, though, and trying to touch any of them will have your hands passing straight through them. Even the restored village around them is just an illusion. One can walk straight into one of the villager's houses and find the warmth of the fire and aroma of the roasted fowl to be completely believable -- but trying to take a seat at the set table will send you crashing straight to the ground to sit in the illusion-covered rubble.

THE SQUIDGE PARK

After the festivities wind down, you may want to visit the newest addition to the Oska grounds -- the brand new squidge park. After Audentes's success in its mission on Zeta-12, ALASTAIR has been gifted with a clutch of squidge eggs to look after. Audentes need not worry about the squidges in their absence; there will always be someone in Oska to make sure the jelly-like aliens are being nurtured properly.

The squidge park is located off the greenhouses in the courtyard; it's an enclosure containing many artificial habitats so the squidges may interact with different environments to help them grow. Right now, they are just eggs, but with enough love and care, they may "hatch" (read: their amorphous blob selves will grow limbs and enter the larval stage) before Audentes even ships out again.

OOC NOTES

Blind date assignments for those working to complete the Lonely Hearts Club bounty can be found here. ICly, the match-ups are publicly posted in the ballroom for all to see.

The other ALASTAIR teams present consist of everything from humanoids to strange creatures; feel free to handwave them in your threads! The only stipulation is that transferred characters (ex. those who have dropped) are not present. The party lasts for one night, and the following day the rest of the teams will pack up and leave Oska to Audentes. The ghostly village-that-isn't will revert back to ruins at this point, as well. However, all other winter amenities will remain for the holidays!

Following the party, characters can expect to be in Oska for several more weeks, with the next mission starting in late January. A more detailed calendar for next month will be up soon!

Questions about this log, Oska, or the game in general should be directed to the FAQ. You may submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1. snow removal

[Fugo doesn't like the castle much. To be fair: given the circumstances, he wouldn't like anywhere. But the castle particularly gets on his nerves because, even though it's stupidly enormous, it doesn't feel that way on the inside. It's dark and moody, with thick walls and heavy doors; most of the rooms feel like they're pressing in on him, which he hates. He's also more than a little frustrated by all the weirdly nonspecific holiday decorations around. But that might be less because of the unnamed holiday and more that he's out of sorts, time-wise. It's not November anymore. It's January now, with dark mornings and early evenings, and it's cold. Too cold for the clothes he came in so he's stuck wearing the stupid uniform, which he reluctantly appreciates for having a purple option and a hood but hates on the principle of being a uniform.

And then... there is the snow. The Snow. There's snow inside and not the sort that's tracked in by shoes by anybody foolish to go outside when it's so disgusting out: snow rests on the floor and furniture, dusting doorknobs and accumulating in corners, as if it cheerfully fell from the ceiling. It doesn't even have the good grace to melt. It just ... stays. As an Italian, Fugo is entirely disgusted by winter in general, snow in particular, and enchanted warm snow especially. He refuses to put up with it.

And that's why he's dedicated to, at least, keeping some corner of semi-personal space clear of it: armed with a broom and a dustpan, Fugo is determinedly sweeping up the unmelting snow like it's so much dust in front of one of Chantes' many, many bedrooms. He's not going at the whole hallway, oh no. Just this in front of and around this particular door at the end of the hallway. There's a line on the floor, impressively sharp given that he's drawn it with a broom, that marks the farthest edge of his cleaning. And he keeps up with it, too: every time more snow settles in this corner, Fugo's back at it again with the broom and dustpan. There are a lot of things he has to put up with for the foreseeable future but indoor snow is not going to be one of them, apparently.]

2. ice maze

[It's cold outside. Cold enough that if the castle and the living quarters weren't so claustrophobic, Fugo wouldn't even entertain the idea of going outside unless he had to. But he doesn't like the castle. He doesn't like being closed in. And he hates all of this waiting, for information and for work that will supposedly earn him a way back to where he belongs. It's restlessness that draws him out of the castle and into the courtyard, hood pulled over his head and hands tucked irritably into his elbows, squinting at the too-bright snow and the frosted glass of the greenhouses and the... ice.

The ice maze is beautiful, sort of, in a way that Fugo would rather have looked at as a picture in a book rather than with his own two eyes. He doesn't intend to explore it, but when he steps inside he's struck by its quietness and stillness. The castle is just a wall of ice away, but in a way it feels like he's stepped into another new world. It's colder in here than it is in the open air; but when he looks up he can still see the sky overhead. And if he's going to be cold and annoyed about being cold, he'd rather be those things letting his brain chew on a puzzle that is theoretically solvable and work off some of his nervous energy. So he keeps to the walls of the maze, wandering among its winding corridors and idly keeping a map of his path to work his way back when the annoyance of being cold is stronger than the press of anxiety that comes with being inside.

As for the clothes, Fugo... well, he picks up the scarf. And the hat. And he bends down to pick up the mittens, too, but he's not wearing any of them except over his arm. He doesn't want any of them, but as someone bothered by things like socks abandoned on the floor instead of put in the laundry hamper where they belong it really irritates him to see them left behind.]

[Whenever he runs to someone else exploring the maze, rather than saying hello, the first thing he does is hold out his armful of knitting with a frown and grumpily ask:] Are these yours?

[Note] Fugo is new, but settling in amidst all of the non-denominational holiday shenanigans. He's missed the ball and will be avoiding mistletoe because he is paranoid and leery of all things, especially suspicious plants. If you want to do something other than these prompts, let me know and I can put something together for you!

[Giorno is a self-aware enough person that he realizes this is a ridiculous way to reconcile with someone.]

[Fugo is sweeping. He's sweeping up the enchanted snow, with sharp precision and a pinched, irritated look on his face. It seems like a futile endeavor. Fugo seems fueled solely by his own irritation, ready to sag to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut any moment. The wrong angle of broom-push and he will collapse, falling to his knees in the white powdery nonsense, unable or unwilling to get up.]

[The last time Giorno saw him, he was staring bleary-eyed at the blinking cursor on the screen. None of this makes sense, Giogio, he'd said, and Giorno doesn't even remember what he said in return. Something silly.]

[It's just as silly that, when he sees Fugo now, his first thought is: oh, he must have gotten tired of untangling the finances for today. It takes him a long, long few moments to reconcile the dissonance between what he's thinking (what he wants to be real) and what he's actually seeing.]

[And then it's there, surging, that rising, viciously possessive urge. There are ghosts in the village. He has to make sure Fugo is not a ghost. Fugo had to be real, he has to--]

Fugo!

[He's running. He doesn't mean to be, but all of a sudden he is. It's not long to run, but it's not dignified, it's not the image he wants to present--only this, somehow, is more important than dignity.]

[His fingers dig into Fugo's shoulders, probably too hard. He can't help it, though. Touch tells him what sight didn't: that this is Fugo. That he is real, and here.]

[Jin was right, he thinks dully, relief shooting through him like pins and needles. His eyes sting. Is this better or worse? A little better. It has to be.]

[Fugo picked this room out of all the others he found because it is at the end of the hall. It's the same as the rest: small, cramped, and dark. But he feels a little better (not safer) with one less direction to worry about and account for. Right now, he's not looking directly at the open end of the hallway; he won't turn his back to it, but he does keep it in his peripheral to better track movement and anyone who might approach him.

He sees Giorno out of the corner of his eye, his blonde curls a golden halo in his peripheral vision, and hears him, too; the click of his heels on the floor. It's all so familiar that he doesn't want to look, because he's already tired of seeing maybe-Mistas and maybe-Trishes and turning around to spot a stranger in the end. He needs to stop. He needs to come to terms with the idea that he's alone, again, until he can earn his way back home. He is determined not to look at this maybe-Giorno because he has-- better things to do than stew in his own unhappiness. Things like sweeping up this stupid, awful snow in front of the windowless room he's not going to do much sleeping in.]

[Except this isn't a maybe-Girono at all. It is Giorno, calling out to him, running up to him, catching his shoulders with both hands. It's all very surprising. Or startling? There's a clattering sound and-- oh, that's the broom. He dropped the broom. Then: pain, ten spots of it, from Giorno's fingertips digging into his shoulders. Fugo stares at him, plainly too surprised for his own thoughts to catch up to him.]

Giogio? [This isn't where he belongs, but Giorno. Giorno shouldn't be here. Giorno belongs in Napoli, not in a castle with never-melting snow cluttering up the hallways. That's just a fact.]

[Here he is. Here--he is, and Fugo is real. He can feel him under his fingers. He can feel the ambient reality of his pulse in the air between them, can smell the dustiness of old books on his clothes, can see the bags under his eyes.]

[And he has no idea what to do next.]

[He's glad. He thinks he shouldn't be. He thinks it's got to be a very selfish thing to be glad about. This isn't home--it isn't Napoli, it certainly isn't Passione. He wanted to bring Fugo home to that place and that famiglia so he could learn how to smile again. This place isn't safe--not for anyone, and especially not for Fugo, still so tired and scared and numb.]

[But on the other hand . . . Giorno brought Fugo back for himself, didn't he? The nasty voices whispering doubt in the back of his mind for six months were never really lying, just relying on too narrow an interpretation of his motivations. He wanted Fugo back. He wanted Bruno's family as close to complete as it could be. He wanted Fugo--that's all. He just wanted him.]

[He wanted to be--the opposite of alone.]

[He doesn't even hear the broom clatter to the floor. He's smiling, but his lips shake. There's a ball of tension in his chest that he doesn't know whether to hold onto or let go of. Is it the kind of bomb he can smother with his body, or will it destroy them both regardless?]

Oh. Fugo.

[Even he can hear how helpless and small he sounds. Not like Don Giovanna ought to at all. His lashes are wet. His grip loosens, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.]

Hi. I really, really missed you.

[One by one, his thoughts start to filter properly through his shock and line up in neat facts. Giorno is here. This shouldn't be true, because Giorno isn't the sort of person unlucky enough to fall through holes in reality and get himself lost in another universe, but it's still a fact. Giorno is here and he isn't alone. This is the point in his thought process where his expression of shock and suspicion begins to crack; underneath it is one of plain, ragged relief.

His next thought is that Giorno is ... it's not that he's not behaving like himself. It's that he's not behaving like the self Fugo usually sees, the self Giorno takes so much effort to put together in the morning and present to the world at large. He's seen glimpses of this smaller Giorno before, during the long car ride home to Napoli; leaning over his shoulder to frown tiredly at the spreadsheets he's been staring at for too long; or late at night, perched worriedly on the edge of his bed. But he's never seen Giorno like this so wholly, so clearly and without filter. Giorno isn't holding so tightly to his shoulders anymore, because he needs one hand to reach up to touch his face. (Why?) Giorno is smiling with his mouth, but not with his eyes. His eyelashes are wet.

Fugo thinks he might be crying. And that's very unsettling, because he's never seen Giorno cry and he can't connect what he's seeing in front of him with any understandable reason why.]

Hello. I missed you too. [Even after the word comes out of his mouth, it feels and sounds stupid because it's so tired and lost. And because, honestly, he hasn't been gone from Napoli for long. He's a little ashamed of himself by how easily it was for him to step back into the listless, grey feeling that had smothered his time in Milano.] I didn't think you would be here.

[He's so . . . disconnected. It makes Giorno ache. Fugo is so sad, and so tired, and so pained, but that pain is so, so far away. He wants to fix it, but this isn't the kind of hurt he can heal automatically. Everything would be so much easier if he could.]

I didn't think you would be, either.

[He blinks a little to clear his blurry vision, but he didn't realize his eyelashes were as wet as they are. A tear falls, lands on his cheek--and there's the barest moment between touchdown and him lowering his eyes so his (wet) lashes hide the evidence until he can furiously wipe it away. He lifts his head sulky and irritated but without tears on his cheeks, at least. And at least the expression is more genuine than the smile was, a moment ago.]

I'm sorry. [One hand still on Fugo's cheek, the other falls from his shoulder to take his hand and squeeze lightly.] It's been a strange little while. Would you mind terribly if we went and talked in my room? It's warmer in there. Or somewhere else, if you'd like.

[He will die before he lets Kaz Brekker see him cry. And Giorno Giovanna will never die.]

[What's a stranger sight, Fugo wonders: spots of tears on Giorno's lashes now, or the sight of him bent over and shuddering but not crying as his vaccine destroyed the virus he carried in his own flesh to the world inside the mirror in the ruins of Pompeii? He's not sure. Both strike him as very strange and a little unsettling. The moment passes quickly. Giorno ducks his head and pushes away his tears in a gesture that's painfully familiar. There's no sign of them anymore, save for smudgey mascara in the corner of one eye.

Fugo's line of sight drops to their hands, where Giorno has caught a hold of one of them. I didn't think you would be, either. Does that mean he's alone? No, that can't be. If Giorno is here then Mista is sure to follow. How long has he been here? Absentmindedly, his fingers close around Giorno's hand.]

I'm sorry too. [For what, he's not quite sure. Not being where he's supposed to be, mostly-- although it's hard to tell in this moment if that's back in Napoli, or here with Giorno.] I wouldn't mind. Your room is fine. I have some things in there, but the door is locked right now. I can get them later.

[He's just going to ... assume that Giorno will have him relocate to a room closer to where he is. Which he's more than fine with.]

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