Conversation Space II.

[powersthatbe]

As Thorne shared with the network, Travelers who vanish find themselves alone in a small room. But it doesn’t look quite as described last time. Paper lanterns hang in the corners, and a lemniscate of live, spicily scented blue roses traces a figure eight on the floor. A little marble plinth sits beside the looping roses, with a champagne flute balanced on it, pink, fizzy liquid quietly effervescing within. In place of the throne that was there before, each half of the loop holds a brown leather sphere - a yoga meditation-ball chair. They’re a little tricky to balance on.


The walls, floors, and ceiling are tiled, a prismatic fade from one color to another, each tile unique, just slightly different in hue than those around it, each colored line giving a sense that it belongs to a bigger pattern, but never revealing enough to allow anyone certainty about what that pattern might be. It is only a glimpse of a larger world… in this small, quiet space.

Comments

[sagetime]

"So serious that I was not even permitted to forfeit," he says, with a wry air of remove. "And using speech to approximate an answer for you, I believe the word would be... 'everything.'"

[oraquarius]

Jotaro fights the urge to roll his eyes; he only succeeds because, well... He kind of knows how that is. Everything.

"'Everything' doesn't appeal to you, then?"

[sagetime]

"Not in the slightest," he says. "I find it... busy. Crowded. Rococo."

[oraquarius]

"...Good grief. 'Everything' must mean something different to you than it does to me," he observes. "But whatever-- so you'd rather just do your own thing and those two- Malbolge, was it? And the 'Gatekeeper'? They weren't having it. Wouldn't it mean less competition for them if you dropped out of the race? Why not just get rid of you instead of forcing you back in?"

Part of him gets wanting a 'clean' win, but... This feels a little extreme, frankly.

[sagetime]

"The Gatekeeper remained neutral. MALBOLGE... hmm. I believe there is a rule of the game which prevents me from explaining zir objection to my departure. Suffice to say it was confident of defeating me in a head to head match."

[oraquarius]

"Why worry about the rules if you're not worried about winning?" Or, you know, if the rules don't suit him. Authority problems thy name is Kujo Jotaro.

[sagetime]

"Because there are others I have no wish to empower."

[oraquarius]

"...Fair enough."

[sagetime]

"I think I have time and focus left for one more query, if you wish to submit one."

[oraquarius]

Frankly Jotaro's about reached his own limit.

Actually, no, the more he thinks about it the more he knows he is at his limit; at this point he knows any final question would undoubtedly raise more questions, and so in lieu of any more grilling he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his smokes, flipping the top of the pack open to reveal the two or so he's got left to SAGE.

"...I'm almost out. Think you've got enough energy or focus to top me off, here?" Listen, it's the one thing he can take away from this encounter that won't give him a headache... And honestly, if he's gonna be someone's tool whether he wants to be or not, the least the guy could do in return is to do him a solid and send him on his way with a full pack of cigarettes for his troubles past, present, and future.

Not to mention that his response, whatever it is, will probably be more telling than any answer he'd give.

[sagetime]

He studies the pack a moment, and the blue in his eyes cycles, once.

The room vanishes, and Jotaro appears back in Liminal Space.

The pack of cigarettes in his hand is heavy, glossier, with a glowing lime-green LED circling it. Nestled inside, on what appears to be a wireless charging pad, is a sleek e-cigarette. Placing it on the charger will cause it to regenerate one pixel at a time. And it has a distinctly herbal flavor with a menthol tinge.

[oraquarius]

Jotaro almost misses the cycling of color in SAGE's eyes before his whisked away once again, quickly enough that he has to wonder if it's only a trick of the light; a few moments of disorientation and a blink later he's back in Liminal Space and staring instead at the green light circling his... Cigarettes?

"Yare yare daze--" Frowning, he peers a little closer, pulling a tube from the 'pack' and turning it over, before rolling it experimentally between his fingers. It's the right size and shape, sure, but... Closer inspection (and a careful sniff) identifies it as having the right kind of smell- though he has no idea how he's supposed to get at it just yet.

But even so, there's a slight quirk to his mouth as he replaces the 'cigarette' in its box and slides the whole apparatus into his pocket, satisfied enough for the moment.