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

[callmemeibe]

"Then you shall remain unsettled? How unfortunate." The woman frowns, and all of her hands reach to grasp her spear and place it on her lap. "Fortuna is... was... responsible for this game's ruleset. I didn't determine the current game's rules. Thus I cannot change them until the end."

There is a pause, before adding, "I admire your ability to persist, despite that."

[amourtician]

"Game?" Jay says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "You tore me away from my family, my Lyova, for a game?" He scowls and looks away. He can't deny his vanity is flattered by Strength's compliment, but he's trying hard not to show it.

[callmemeibe]

"Synodiporia is more than that. It's just the easiest way to describe it. Most Travelers understand what a game is. A tournament, perhaps." She peers at Jay with curiosity, before adding, "Regardless, I have chosen you to represent me in this game. You should know the rules."

[amourtician]

Jay looks back at the woman, his chin stuck out defiantly. His mouth is set in a thin, angry line.

"Why did you choose me?" he says, his voice flat, without his usual affectations, tired. He is tired, very much so. His head is beginning to hurt. "I have ... I have a family. I have a husband to take care of. He's ... he's very sick. He needs me—"

[callmemeibe]

"Marking you as my Chosen? Or selecting you as a participant in Synodiporia? Those are two very different things. I only had a hand in one of them." She frowns, shaking her head. "You will not lack your husband forever, Anzu."