Night 1, Midnight

[12npcs]

[Something begins to tick, coming from all around you at once. It gains in volume slowly, first something just at the edge of your hearing and then rises up above even the conversations.

A first, awkward, off-key note is struck, and then another. The tone is delicate and disjointed, as if a melody was torn out of the middle and played on just the few last keys...




You begin to feel tired. In fact, some of you might begin to feel really, really tired.]


((OOC: goodnight groddle Lullaby posting! The super sleepy is up to you whether you want to play out or not, it is otherwise random and doesn't happen with the same severity ever night, unless you want it to.))

Comments

[direstnews]

What would you have me do? Birth a six-legged horse?

[beeductionist]

A show of magic would work nicely.

[direstnews]

Why must people presume I'm capable of it?

[beeductionist]

That is traditionally your role.

[direstnews]

Traditionally, yes.

But resurrection does tend to throw a wrench of monkeys into the workings of the cosmic clock or similar apt metaphor.

[beeductionist]

[ ohhhh, interest piqued ]

That was the detail I was missing.

[direstnews]

The not-terribly-glorious rebirth?

[Yaaawns and sinks down to a sitting position.]

[beeductionist]

[ leaning against a wall himself ]

The rebirth, period. It explains why you would be hunted despite obviously being innocent.

[direstnews]

I never said hunted, precisely.

[beeductionist]

Is the implication incorrect?

[direstnews]

[Hesitates.]


[Hesitates longer.]

Not... as such.

[beeductionist]

... Would you care to clarify then?

[direstnews]

We shall say that I was largely unwelcome, and let that stand where it will.

[beeductionist]

[ glancing you over ... letting it lie for now. ]

I see.

[direstnews]

[Yaaaawns again, and rubs at his face.]

But we've strayed from our purpose. You would have proof of what I claim.

[beeductionist]

Do you have it?

[ ugh, so tired. herubs at his face as well. ]

[direstnews]

[Digs out his phone and taps at the screen, then passes it over.]

A pictorial documentation of some of my grander moments.

[beeductionist]

[ clicking through it ... his eyebrows just keep going up. ]

... No evidence of photographic manipulation.

[direstnews]

[The lights of the world tree... a massive man in full armor with a war hammer easily as large as your head... a city in the sky over the flat land of Oklahoma... a puppy snarling and breathing fire... a humongous, muscled creature all aflame, horns upon its head... ghostly women in armor, stern and intimidating... a girl about Loki's age, with long, black hair, a long, green dress, and an elaborate hair piece... a garden growing amidst ruins.]

You'll not find any no matter how hard you look. They stand as they were taken.

[beeductionist]

And yet the images themselves are physically impossible.

[direstnews]

Very little, my dear Mr. Holmes, is actually impossible.

[beeductionist]

... And whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?

[direstnews]

Aptly put.

[beeductionist]

[ sigh ]

Surely there are still rules. Underlying logic.

[direstnews]

[Yaaawn, shifting against the clockwork person like he's settling into blankets.]

Of course there are.

Whole tomes are written of them.