epidemiology | OPEN PLOT POINT LOG ★ THE GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP

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OPEN PLOT POINT LOG ★ THE GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP

May 4th; REPAIRS GALORE

Maybe you responded to the post on the network about the big discovery, or maybe someone you know roped you into helping- either way, so far it seems like this ship might be the only feasible way off the island. If you can get it up and running again. The controls and internal systems seem to have been largely preserved intact, but they'll need a bit of maintenance- you know, repairing corroded wires, unsticking the buttons, cleaning the screens, reattaching the power... and that's not to mention the outside. There's a large hole in the hull that needs to be repaired with metal salvaged from other places on the island, barnacles and rust that need removing, breeches that need putty...

A few recruits take charge to direct work flow, but people are encouraged to work on what they can! Even if you're not super strong there's still work you can do, and of course the volunteers need to be fed! There's a job for everyone... but this is going to take a few days at least.

May 11th; A BREAK IN THE STORM

There's just one problem. Even once they get the ship in questionably operating order... how in the world are they going to clear that fierce storm? The ship might be ready to sail, but it's definitely not ready to take another beating.

Though surely some recruits are doing their best coming up with ways to either make the ship sturdy enough to sail through or find a way to banish the unnatural storm, it seems like they might be stuck in dry dock... until the clouds disperse and the sun begins to shine. Wait- what just happened?

May 12th; BON VOYAGE

Now the storm has cleared, it looks like you all might just be able to get home! ... Well, not home, but. Back to Pu'ulai at least. The journey might get off to a bit of a rocky start, since they need to figure out A) how to use the strange touch screen steering apparatus on the warship and B) which direction to sail in, but at least this thing has a good radar, so hopefully they can avoid any "I'll never let go, Jack!" conclusions.

Thankfully it's a large vessel so quarters aren't cramped for the nearly 2 days it will take to get back to the others. Be nice, share your food, take shifts so people don't fall asleep at the proverbial wheel, all that jazz.

Try not to freak out when the shore of the island approaches and everyone realizes no one replaced the brakes on this thing. Brace for impact?

May 14th; REUNION TOUR

The marooned crew is back! All those messages you were trying to send to people in the other group that never got through? Watch out, because your inbox is about to get flooded. (Or not, if you're a grump no one messages.) A giant Dakal warship crashing into the beach is bound to attract native and ALASTAIR attention alike... and the older generation of Nalawi actually go for their weapons and pitchforks in a panic, ready to defend the beach against a foe they never thought to see again... but find themselves confused upon realizing the passengers are ALASTAIR recruits. This is the place for your teary "I thought you might be dead!" reunions as well as the more bro-esque "glad you're still alive, loser" type greetings.

You all have a lot of information to trade. What happened on that risen island? Sacrifices flayed open? Ryba is huh? Nalanni is wha? Kidnapped?! Woah, slow down. Wouldn't it be great if ALASTAIR would get in touch? (Shh, that's May 15th).

OOC NOTE;

This is a mod-sponsored plot point driven log for those marooned (and later, those who were left behind). If you'd like to do some OOC organization/plotting, feel free to utilize this thread! Please direct any questions there or to the mod plurk. The disappearance of the storm on the 11th is relevant to another player plot point soon to be revealed, so that is left a bit vague for that reason. Feel free to play out reunion stuff here if you'd like, though because of a few plot points left to be revealed, you may want to bookmark this and come back for srs threads once those go public. Thank you! ♥

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[For either of them, this sort of physical labor posed no problem, even with dampened powers. They were creatures built for strength, for heavy lifting, so Gilgamesh really only rests to recover his magic rather than his stamina. Still, Koltira will feel a slight warmth touching him upon approach, Gilgamesh's prana gently familiarizing itself with him. A sort of magical hello as he looks up.]

I like it very much.

[Gilgamesh states this directly; he has no issue offering praise where it is due. To that end, he asks:]

Do you know of the one that gifted these? I wished to thank them, but they left no note behind.

[ Koltira's ears twitch slightly as he senses Gil's prana. Though he does not crave magic like his living kin, he can't deny a certain taste for it all the same--especially now, diminished as he is.

But he presses on. ]

I did.

[ He gestures to the lion's eyes. ]

The gold is Azerothian. From my own world, and my own stock.

[Gilgamesh's hands curl protectively around the carving, and if he had ears like Koltira's, they'd be curling back. He did? But why? They were barely on acceptable terms, to his knowledge. Allies of circumstance rather than choice. He won't refuse or reject the gift now; he's not quite so callous. But he does question it.]

Why give this to me?

[Is this... reciprocation, of some kind? A symbol, a sign? But what was he meant to divine from it, then?]

[ Koltira can't blame Gilgamesh for the suspicion. Their relationship, such as it is, has been fraught. That's true for many of the others who received carvings from him, as well, though none more so than Gil. Perhaps that was why he neglected to leave a note.

He's not discomfited, exactly, but he does feel awkward. He has no faculty for these things. That's why he carves anonymous presents! ]

... you have helped me. Multiple times.

[ A pause, and he goes on. ]

Regardless of motive or however else you may think of me, you have still helped to preserve my life. My sanity.

Edited (repetition ) 2016-05-10 04:48 (UTC)

I would like to carve something for you, as well.

[Gilgamesh blurts it out, without thinking. But even if he had, his words wouldn't have changed. He feels obligated to return the gesture, not because the gift was particularly valuable, but it showed great thought and great compassion that Gilgamesh himself would acknowledge he had not necessarily earned.

Now, he could try to.]

In my culture, we exchange these gifts as a token of good will. So I would wish you the same.

[Good will. They could compromise on that. Not friends, not enemies, but those who wished the other good fortune.]

[ He's surprised by that, and he can't hide it from his expression, either. He had expected Gil to send him away, to sneer. Not necessarily because of Gil himself, but because that was simply how people dealt with death knights. Which is to say: as little as possible. ]

I would be honored.

[ Good fortune describes his intent well enough. That, and thank you. He suffers no illusions, knows Gilgamesh would readily try to kill him without affording it a second thought, knows he's not much beyond a monster to the other man's mind. But, when he thought of what had actually happened between them, a pattern of preservation rather than negation emerged.

Thus.

A carving. ]

[On that note, actually...

Gilgamesh's eyes fall away from the elf in thought.]

Death has never been a friend of mine. It has taken much away, stands to take away more still, in a time and place I have yet to see but one day may experience. You, who wields death, the embodiment of my greatest enemy, that I would seek to overcome...

[Somehow...]

Somehow, I do not hate you at all. I find it strange.

[But no stranger than sharing a bed with the one who would someday kill him, he supposes. Strange, yet acceptable.]

[ Dryly, because he really can't help himself. ]

I find it strange, also.

[ And yet ... ]

But I do not despise you, either. Despite our conflict, I have always seen some parallel between us. Ever since that night when you offered me the wine of life.

[ He shrugs. Gilgamesh may disagree. But it's the truth as Koltira perceives it. ]

[Gilgamesh smiles, just barely.]

Put your load down. I would offer you a little more.

[ He doesn't need to be told twice. Not after the time he's been having. (Not ever, really.)

He sits down beside Gilgamesh, folding one long leg over the other. ]

And I would gladly take it. It remains the best I have ever tasted, in this life or the last.

[Gilgamesh is tired, but never tired enough to indulge in drink. He summons his cup of wine with ease and takes a hearty sip, then passes it over to Koltira. This, in itself, was a sign of trust, that he'd be willing to share his treasure with another. No longer simply on account of setting, but because he genuinely wished to extend the hospitality.

He keeps touching the lion in his hands, gently, as if he were touching Koltira in place of it. Losing himself in thought and in the quiet comfort of a companion.]

[ Koltira drinks deeply, and holds the cup in his hand a moment as he feels the wine take effect, burning hot and sweet on his tongue. It's one of the few drinks he's had since his death that still retains some measure of flavor, that still feels as it might have to a living tongue. The vital, warm feeling in his veins is always welcome, too.

He swishes the wine around in the goblet, eyeing Gil as he handles the carving. ]

I'm relieved that you found it a worthy likeness. Your Shishi is a majestic creature, though I dare not approach.

[ Another sip. ]

I therefore worked from distant, and often faulty, memory.

[Gilgamesh perks up upon mention of Shishi. It is ultimately a safer topic than either of them; animals were not so prickly as men. Gilgamesh glances up and over the railing, then offers cautiously:]

I am certain Shishi would not mind meeting you. If such if your wish.

[Gilgamesh worries for the effect of his touch, reeking of death and decay. But he had safely initiated contact with Koltira before, so it might be alright.]

[ A final sip, and Koltira at last sets the cup down between them. He leans back, propped up by his elbows. The tattoos that snake over his chest glow still, a dull blue that casts a pallid light over the hard muscles of his stomach. The skin just above his navel is warped and scarred, as though once rent open by a blade.

He drums his fingers on the deck. ]

I should like to, if you truly feel he could bear my presence. Most living animals sense undeath innately, and do not respond well.

[Gilgamesh does look uncertain, as he did when protecting Shishi's cubs from Koltira. But for all his monstrous qualities, there's something undeniably... human about him. Not soft, never soft, but something that seemed to wish for warmth, for contact. For little bits and pieces to remember what he once was.

And Gilgamesh could only ever sympathize, being in much the same situation himself. So while he will hesitate, he ultimately decides that Koltira has earned a small reprieve. He whistles between his teeth, and not moments later, Shishi comes bounding up from the nearby beach and onto the deck.

Koltira has guessed correctly that Shishi seems scared, or close enough to it. But Gilgamesh reassures him:]

Shishi, this is Koltira. Koltira is a good person, and he would be your friend. Will you say hello?

[Shishi was a little lazy when it came to obeying Gilgamesh's commands, but in this case, he's cautiously curious. With ears drawn back, he starts to approach...]

[ It is right and natural that others should be afraid of him. He is death itself, given form, given overwhelming power. But it was power forced on him, unbidden, to fashion him into a war machine. Him, and the rest of his brothers and sisters in the Ebon Blade.

He cannot blame others for their fears, animal or otherwise. Part of him revels in it, wants to draw it out and taste it like the wine in the cup beside him. But a larger part feels only revulsion and shame.

He watches the lion approach, then glances at Gil calling him a 'good person'. He's sure Shishi can see right through such an obvious lie.

But he would befriend Shishi, if he could.

He thinks of the lynxes of Eversong.

He leans forward, slowly, and he extends his hand. ]

[Shishi is a living creature. As Koltira himself noted, they were sensitive to death, wary of it, some of them even outright terrified. But Shishi was no ordinary lion, and so did not respond as most lions did. He sees Koltira making an effort; he senses good intent. And because of it, he does allow Koltira to touch him, raising his head against his fingers and staring him straight in the eyes.

His tail swishes slightly. His pupils dilate, and contract. But no growls come. No aggression rises up in his form. And moments later, after he's made his silent, unreadable judgment as animals do, he nudges against his hand, in a way that indicates Koltira may pet him. Gilgamesh smiles, surprised by none of it.]

He trusts you.

[Gilgamesh gives Shishi a firm pat on the side, one of gratitude.]

Because I trusted you to try. Do not betray that, Koltira.

[Both mount and master took such betrayals very, very personally.]

[ Koltira runs his fingers over the lion's soft forehead, down his neck, and into the pale, glorious mane. His hand is cool, but not unbearably so (it may even be pleasant, given the tropical weather), and he pets Shishi with as much gentleness as he's able. He has, of course, little intention of harming the creature in any way, nor even any thought to do so.

The expression on his face is removed, as though he's imagining another time, another place. He murmurs as he leans forward, pressing his forehead to Shishi's flank. ]

I would never.

[Once it sinks in that Koltira did not have the fingers of the grave, only the look of one, Shishi relaxes, and even more so when the elf rubs in just the right places. After a time, the great beast lets loose a pleased yowl and flops right over Koltira, rolling around and all but begging for more attention. In a way, this behavior may have been problematic; too quick to trust, too exposed to potential enemies. He was no war lion, at least not as advertised.

But Gilgamesh has learned to love him for what he is, just as he has learned to accept Koltira for what he is. He laughs, and it is a free sound. Happy.]

Oh, you've done it now. Now you'll never be rid of him.

[At least he'll have white hair all over him once they're through. But maybe it's not the worst consequence Koltira has suffered.]

[ Koltira's staggered by Shishi's sudden weight, going down on his back as the lion eagerly rolls over him. Sadly, it's the most direct affection Koltira's experienced in ages, and he can't help but look delighted. For a moment his face seems to belong to someone entirely different, someone long since gone, someone vital and animated and full of carefree joy.

He reaches to run both hands over Shishi's belly, gently rubbing the velvety soft fur. Glancing at Gil, Koltira sighs pleasantly. ]

I wouldn't want to be.

[Eventually, Shishi comes to settle at Koltira's side and fluffs his fur up, as if to keep the elf warm. He seems to have noticed he's a bit cooler than usual and, as is typical of his nature, seeks to aid him in his own way. Even the jaded Gilgamesh must smile in return at the display, and he lies down too, so they're all in one big pile.]

You remembered, just now. Something. Someone, perhaps.

[Gilgamesh gives Koltira a gentle nudge, grinning.]

Tell me. Tell me of that life you once knew.

[ He can feel the warmth of Shishi's fur, brushing against him. Of Gil's body, too, vibrant with magic and vitality even in their presently reduced state. He draws what comfort he can from this warmth, like the moon from the sun. ]

Ah.

[ His own smile is wistful, solemn, lost in memories of a place that no longer exists as he knows it. ]

I was thinking of my country, and of my brother. He was a good man, Faltora.

[ Koltira tangles his fingers in the lion's mane, his eyes half-lidded. ]

When I was alive, we were temple guards, but the job was largely ceremonial. We whiled away the time with banquets, dancing, men, women ...

[ He shakes his head. ]

But Faltora was terrible at courtship. I suppose I cannot judge him too harshly for that anymore, though.

And you?

[Oh, mentioning courtship was a mistake. Gilgamesh hones in on it, leans over Shishi's side and beams with far too much energy at Koltira. To think, this was someone he'd battled with to near death, and on multiple occasions even... and yet they were getting along so easily. Had he gone too soft? Shouldn't he hate him for daring to raise arms against the King?

But the more he asks himself this, the more he realizes they were of the same ilk: two dead men forced to rise and to fight endlessly, in service to a power much higher than themselves. Beyond their control, beyond their will. To hate that sort of person was to hate himself, to spite his own reflection.

And even if that were true, Gilgamesh would never, ever admit to it.]

Such an accusation would imply you were good at it, and yet...

[Gilgamesh tsks. But it's a sound more playful than it is mocking.]

[ If he hadn't been so caught up in those old, blurry memories, Koltira might have recognized this as possibly dangerous territory. But his most vivid image of Faltora comes from just before their respective deaths, and so he can't help himself, can't stop himself. ]

I was.

[ Emphasis on the past. ]

My brother had trouble approaching others ... particularly women.

[ His sad smile turns to a fond grin. ]

Sometimes, I simply had to do it for him.

[And Gilgamesh laughs and laughs. The imagery of it is just too funny, especially considering his own vivid first memories of the elf... vivid in how gloomy he was, suffering at the bar by his lonesome and yet looking so utterly alive the moment he'd sipped some of his own drink. Maybe it's hard to hate Koltira because it's easy to see, with more and more time spent around him, that he was a person once—and still was, with just a bit of prodding, with just a bit of patience.

Gilgamesh won't acknowledge it, either, that bit of sympathy that still lived within him. But he could understand. He could remember, too, all the pretty palace girls and charming palace boys he could seduce with a single look, and never would again. He'd never see his home again, lost to the sands of time.

It isn't exactly difficult to do with how close they are, but it also isn't exactly subtle when Gilgamesh slides over to endear himself to Koltira's side.]

Do your worst. Right now.

[He looks up with a wink and smirk, smug as ever.]

I wish to hear the sort of line that slayed maidens and men alike. Whisper it in my ear.

OPEN PLOT POINT LOG ★ THE GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP

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