Mesh

[in_extremis]

WHO: You, your favourite person, your least favourite person, and someone you've never met. Open!
WHERE: The library garden, Temba
WHAT: Putting the plants in order, for fun and...fun. Tony's been building a hedge maze.
WHEN: A lovely summer evening.
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get nasty. This is an open invitation function, and the sheriff can't stop all of you at once.

NETWORK // un: ironman // TEXT
Come to the library. Try to find your way out.
It's better with a hand to hold.


What was supposed to be a much more gradual project had rapidly become unmanageable. After being released back into the sunlight, Tony was sure he was going to return to a yard that was parched and languishing without care. He had never been much of a botanist, if he could help it. What he found instead was a snarl of plants that were threatening to take over any progress he had made on this project, while he transformed the room in the library basement into his workshop and repurposed the gutted parts, and beating the stems and petals back was only getting him so far. The ring he had been carrying around, telling himself he needed just the right place to reveal it, might have still been missing, but this garden was not going to tolerate being tamed for long.

Even on the terrace wrapping the back of the library, the greenery broke through the flagstones in wild tufts of grass and thorny weeds that had to be hacked back. Much of it now was burning sweetly in the firepit, ringed by the last of the intact stone benches that were found here. Maybe sitting under them was more comfortable, though, like the few, cuddling mothcats that could be found there, because the benches were clearly Agrii design. The yard back here was braced in by a few tall trees along the edges of the property, obscuring most of the road beyond and sending fluttering seedpods skipping across the stones with every summer breeze.

Dominating the space now was a maze. It was imposing, particularly in low light, after the sun had set and Tony had sent his cryptic message. Not much could be seen peering into the structure from the entrance; the depths darkened rapidly, and the first path to choose came quickly. Flanking the entrance were torches, though, and with them baskets of lumpy, oily candles that could be lit on the flickering braziers to carry into the dark, and become floating points of light that whispered past each other in the soft grass and between the fragrant, lusciously flowering walls of the maze. Even now, the branches and vines that determined the structure seemed to be stretching voraciously, leaving beds of petals where they had crashed into each other, and sneaking across the paths to catch uncritical toes. Even experienced maze-solvers might find some challenges within, with some tricks of the eye and secret doors to discover, but they might also find there was no rush to the exit; the myriad blind alleys and cul-de-sacs weren't simply dead ends. In one, a set of swings, flat wooden boards hung close to each other and maybe tall enough to peek over the maze wall with an enthusiastic enough push. In another, a shallow pond, thick with small flowers that swam over the surface of the water that glowed eerily. A particularly lucky and industrious explorer might find a puzzle box, waiting patiently in a nest of purple sand, that rattled when shook. There was definitely something in there. What else might be hidden in the dark?* Around only a few corners, the whole experience might be over, breaking back into the open garden of the library from a surprising nook just a few steps away from the inviting entrance to the maze. It would probably be better not to get too impatient.

*Feel free to make up some fun, weird stuff, I'm sure we can all be cool. If you're really not sure and need me to say yes, you can dm here or @ me on discord.

Comments

[beholding_archivist]

"-but you don't want to know about every moment a spider hatches somewhere within this city." The Archivist counters flatly. "I'm not everyone's phobia live feed, Mr. Silver. I collect information and try to keep them accessible." This he deems more important than anything else. His expression turns into a mild scowl. "Being able to know what is going on in the library comes in handy for that as well, you know. You aren't be the first believing himself clever by attempting to steal the library's books simply because the map labels this building as a library. Had you asked instead, you would have learned that the Agrii never had a written language in the first place and that the only books here are an outdated encyclopedia and a few defaced old novels. They all originate on Earth."

[quark_assassin]

Dustin opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first. He's got a lot to say - or at least, he's got a lot going on in his head. Being called 'Silver' is chief among them. Having spent the majority of his remembered life as a Thatcher, he almost doesn't recognize being called anything else. Hell, he still calls himself 'Thatcher' in his own head on the regular, and he barely questions it.

But that's not what Dustin outwardly takes offense to. "--I was gonna return them!" he stammers indignantly, face flushing. The two books nestled in his sweater-turned-backpack feel a lot heavier all of a sudden. "You know, for a civil conversation, you're really riding my ass about this shit. I just wanted some privacy while I read. Is that a problem for you?"

[beholding_archivist]

"You know precisely what the problem is." Jon replies. He doesn't outright demand the books back, though his tone indicates that they better find their way back to their respective places on the shelves. And as far as Jon goes, he still deems this conversation to be fairly civil.

An exhale. "Right. I told you about me, so now it's your turn. What do you expect to get hunted by? If I am to keep an eye out, I will need to know what to look out for."

[quark_assassin]

Dustin does know what the problem is. Will he admit to it? Absolutely not. Instead he sulks openly at Jon's scolding, slumping back in his chair with his arms folded. He supposes it's the Archivist's right to not trust his word after slinking off with his property, but that doesn't make the blow to his pride hurt any less.

Considering his soured mood, answering Jon's follow-up earnestly is now a tremendous effort for the broody teen. "I'd expect you to tell me, Mr. All-Seeing, All-Knowing Embodiment of Fear," Dustin quips with a huff, though he seems to recognize his tone is out of line pretty quickly, reining in his temper with a forceful sigh.

"...Your Ceaseless Watcher ever tell you about Shades?"

[beholding_archivist]

Dustin's attitude isn't too different from Melanie's, leaving Jon willing enough to let that remark slide and focus on the question.

"Shades in the mythological sense, or Shades as in beings possibly unique to your world?" He inquires in turn, resting his hands back on the table. "The Eye and the other entities were unique to my Earth, so it only knows what it could observe there." Which should make sense.

[quark_assassin]

Dustin gives a stiff nod, acknowledging Jon's point before he elaborates.

"Both," he says. "The beings I'm referring to get their name from the mythology. I haven't totally discounted the idea that they're the same thing. What's your universe's mythos like for them?"

Dustin could immediately go into detail, rather than dancing around the topic like he is, but he's still gauging Jon and his claims. Their agreement never specified that Dustin needed to divulge all of his secrets, by his estimation; he's ready to clam up as soon as he sniffs bullshit from across this table.

[beholding_archivist]

"A shade is the spirit or ghost of a dead person, residing in the underworld." Jon keeps his definition short and to the point. Based on his experience shades had no ties to the Fears on his Earth. But based on the myths, they would have been tied to the End, who has always been one of the less active powers. For rather obvious reasons.

"I assume the Shades in your world don't do you the favor of remaining in said underworld."

[quark_assassin]

"Something like that," Dustin nods, then hesitates. What could Jonathan do with this information? How much is safe to give him? So far the answer is still 'not too much' for both of those questions, therefore he sticks to the breadcrumb approach, carefully gauging Jon's reaction to each bit he's given as they head deeper into the more obscure details.

"The myths have the wrong idea about what the 'underworld' is," he continues. "They're not dead - their spirits are tied to the Astral."

Another pause, as Dustin silently checks to see if the Archivist recognizes that term.

[beholding_archivist]

Meanwhile Jon does his best to remain patient. Dustin's attempted approach isn't lost to him and he tries not to feel reminded of how Elias has played this little breadcrumb game with him.

He exhales. "Well, I doubt you're referring to the British car from the 1920s, but something akin to the astral plane. A separate plane of existence adjacent to the real world." Possibly comparable to wherever the Fears were existing until Jon allowed them to enter his world. "And that's where your world's Shades exist. Do they act from there or are they able to fully manifest in your world?" They have to be able to pose a danger somehow after all.

[quark_assassin]

As much as Dustin would like to imply that he might actually be talking about an old car, the tone of the conversation and Jon's baseline occult knowledge makes such a deflection unlikely to do anything positive. He huffs instead at the reference, frowning as he assesses what new crumb to provide.

"Enough to be dangerous," Dustin says, voicing the Archivist's silent presumptions. "They use the Astral to track people. It's theorized that everyone imprints on it with their souls - some more than others. Shades seem to take advantage of that."

[beholding_archivist]

That sounds an awful lot like how the Fears act and Jon isn't too thrilled about these similarities.

"Well. How do we recognize them and how can they be dealt with?" Jon asks plainly. These are the crucial information he will have to keep on record.

[quark_assassin]

Dustin's expression turns stony and he goes quiet. It might seem like something Jon's said has made him angry - which is not entirely incorrect, but he's not mad at Jon. Rather, Dustin's mad at himself for not knowing how to answer this question. Eventually he looks away, sheepish.

"...I was kinda hoping you'd be able to tell me," he murmurs. Then the boy's embarrassment grabs hold of him and he quickly continues, in a fevered ramble, "--When you said there wasn't anyone from my world that I fear here, I thought--I assumed you knew how to find them. What to do about them. If I knew any of that myself, I wouldn't have chased you down. Probably."

[beholding_archivist]

Now, that's interesting. But also not necessarily unfamiliar territory. Part of his job at the institute used to be researching the statements given to them and find out more about the reported events and experiences.

Jon gives a short nod of understanding. "What do you know about them so far. You seem to have encountered them before. It can already be helpful if we know what to look out for in case the Atroma decide to get inspired again."

[quark_assassin]

Of everything that's happened between him and Jon so far, everything they've discussed, this seems to visibly rattle Dustin the most.

You seem to have encountered them before.

Just an innocent phrase. But it forces Dustin's brain away from the obscure and vague forum posts, the cheesy occult documentaries, and instead drops him into his first memory like one might drop a fish into a tank of sharks. The boy's face drains completely of color and his heart lurches with a powerful wave of fear. His fight-or-flight response has kicked into high gear and, in spite of their agreement, demands that he should run.

Abruptly, Dustin slaps his hands on the table and pushes himself away, chair legs scraping loudly against the terrace. "--I can't talk about this," he blurts, sounding breathless. "I need to go."

[beholding_archivist]

Jon raises an eyebrow at that reaction, but he makes no move to stop Dustin.

"Alright. If you're not ready, I can wait." He says simply, remaining in his seat. "Remember to return those books. And if you're ready to talk about it, let me know. This information might be required one of these days."

[quark_assassin]

Dustin doesn't pause to acknowledge what Jon is saying. Instead he lurches from his chair and briskly walks away - back into the maze. He'd like very much to get lost in there, now.

Jon will find those books returned before daylight, and the broken swings repaired the following day.