Conversation Space: The Ultimate

[powersthatbe]

You feel as if you've stepped through a door.

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0. The Fool

[powersthatare]

In a seemingly endless tropical sea, with a warm, merry sun overhead, is a single small island, just enough for two palm trees to have a hammock slung between them. In the sand beside the hammock is a coconut, cut crosswise to have a “lid” of shell on top of it, and inside is a sweet-tasting milky beverage - a dulce de leche chocolate-coconut cocktail. The sand around the island is spotted with dog tracks, but there’s no sign of an actual dog.

[sharkened]

When Kazuichi returned from his dungeon he expected to find himself in some bizarre Liminal Space. What he didn't expect was a tropical island. A lot smaller than the ones he comes from but still a tropical freaking island.

"Oi oi oi oi!! What is this? Whose great idea this place is?! I'm not participating in any killing games anymore!"

Tropical islands may forever be ruined for him.

[otomechapilot]

This place is a dream. It has to be a dream. But it's not Sara's dream, and that puts her on edge.

No one else here, yet. And she's not Anchored. This place isn't overtly Nightmarish, so she's not going to panic, yet. But she's approaching the hammock with a knee between the legs or a chop at the throat firmly in mind as options.

Hope springs eternal that it won't come to that.

[tailforbrains]

"Okay, this place is a little cramped for a person and a gryphon!" is Neeshka's first comment as she and Monkey-- full grown and quite large, now-- appear here. She elbows him out of her space, which means he blunders into the hammock, and unless it has some kind of magical properties, he's either going to pull it down or tear it when he tries to snap at it in annoyance. Neither of them notice the coconut, except for Monkey to also knock it over with a sweep of his wing.

"If this is punishment for stealing that crown in the last place, I'm not sorry!" Neeshka calls to anyone possibly listening.

[howexciting]

Leonardo collapses onto his knees on the sand, his mind still reeling from the past few seconds. First he came out of his dungeon just long enough to take a breath and see the wearied faces of his rescuers, then the familiar pull of a portal with the unfamiliar pull of another's power controlling it, and now here he is nearly face-first in the sand. He lets out a winded huff, weary and long-suffering, before he slowly rights himself to sitting on his knees.

He slowly dusts off his doublet sleeves of sand, as his eyes glance at all that lays around him. Water, infinite stretches of water, so open and yet so isolating. A hammock and some sort of drink that he will refuse to touch - he does not believe for a second that such hospitality is there for him. "... where is Cynic?" Leonardo finally asks to what appears to be no one. He knows who this island belongs to, and it most certainly belongs to No One.

[elevatoravatar]

Appearing and looking curiously Elizabeth peers at the trees and the hammock, "I am uncertain as to what part of the sea of the soul this is how curious."

Still, dog tracks, was not one of his companions a dog? With that thought in mind Elizabeth will start following the tracks.

Re: 0. The Fool

[sumofallreds]

"Now what?"

First the weird forest...and now this small, and rather warm island.

[royalpassport]

One rule of being a portal jumper:

Don't just eat any food you come across. Or drink the drinks. Or smoke the smokables. Etc. You never know what could kill or curse you. This is especially the case with temptations left unattended.

The coconut cocktail might as well have a little note that says "DRINK ME" on it.

Jefferson squints as he looks up at the clear and sunny sky. Well, at least there's an actual sky again. Big improvement over the creepy blank space in the puzzle-tree world. With a weary sigh-- really, he'd like to stop being yanked this way and that and just get sent back to his hat-- Jefferson flops onto the hammock and stretches out. He'll work on his escape in a bit.

[otomechapilot]

If Sara can't trust herself, who can she trust? (Don't answer that.) And she will have been quite insistent that the Arcana need some warning about the nature of time.

Plus, you know, she missed Christmas. Which is why she's got a giftwrapped box liminalled up... on a sling over her back.

She's in her 80's teal and magenta madness, humming, barefoot with a foot dangling off the cliff's edge back in Liminal when she talks to her marked hand.

"Did you know what Later Me and Even Later Me wanted to tell you?" she asks, softly.

I. The Magician

[powersthatare]

On a stage, under bright spotlights, with an invisible audience, are a pair of chairs - plush black velvet, in the shape of an upturned tophat, cut in half down the middle. The coffee table between the chairs has a white-tipped black cane, a slender dueling saber, a silver buffalo-headed nickle the size of a saucer, and a bejeweled golden cup full of what looks like rich, dark red wine.

[inventivepaladin]

So, she was just pulled out of her wanderings to come to this strange-looking place. What the quiznak. Pidge takes a couple steps toward the chairs, one hand on her bag strap, the other near her side, to summon her bayard if necessary.

Rover 2.0 hovers over her shoulder, beeping nervously. "You said it. Shiro's going to be so mad. I just hope Claudia can calm him down. Hello? Anyone here?"

II. The High Priestess

[powersthatare]

This perfectly cubical room has walls of smooth, polished black stone, and on one side, a heavy veil of embroidered cloth with many narrow rainbow stripes in a repeating crosshatched pattern. There is one chair - flat and golden, with arms in the shape of kneeling humanlike figures with arms and wings stretched forward. What little light there is flickers like candles, coming from the other side of the veil.

Beside the chair is a silver chalice filled with red wine.

[girlexmachina]

Aloy looks at the chair, and she looks at the wine. She touches neither, remaining standing. This is significantly outside of all her previous experience, and it's hard to know what she's supposed to do.

After a moment, she goes to pull the rainbow veil aside, to see if it's hiding something. Perhaps, a way out?

III. The Empress

[callmemeibe]

The scene is a tea garden, an eclectic but elegant mixture of English and Chinese. English roses line the space's walls, just barely in bloom with gorgeous, large flowers in many shades. There is a neat walking path lined with bird fountains where sparrows will occasionally drink and cool down before flying away.

The path leads to a crystal-clear lake, where lily pads cluster in groups of three, and the banks are carefully shaded with weeping willows in full bloom. Koi fish in many different patterns and colors swim around lazily, enjoying the crisp, cool water and occasionally nibbling on the lily pads. There is a delicate path of stepping stones that cut across the lake, spaced just wide enough for the average person's step.

Inside an open-walled pagoda just past the lake's stepping stones is a beautiful woman, dressed in pink silks and wearing a jeweled headpiece that shifts the light in the room to delicate rainbows on the ceiling. She smiles at your approach, and begins to pour you tea. There is a very comfortable cushion on the floor waiting for you by the low tea table, across from the mystery woman.

[reallymean]

The shift from strange pastel nowhere that bleeds like watercolors left in the rain to actual concrete space is a jarring one, and Allura's staff is in her hand before her surroundings have a chance to properly register. It's the scent of the flowers that sink in first, entirely alien, but calming nonetheless. She turns a slow circle, evaluating her surroundings, the graceful beauty of the garden and the bright song of the birds. It feels peaceful, a place of rest and comfort, and after a moment spent carefully weighing her options, she secures the staff back in its harness.

It's still there if she needs it - she's nowhere near certain this place is as peaceful as it appears - but carrying it openly seems an unnecessary escalation when she hasn't been offered any actual threat.

She makes her way along the path and across the lake, making her way from stone to stone with the unhesitating ease of someone well aware of her own body, the length of her stride and the uncertainty of her balance. By the time the pagoda comes into view, she's started to wonder at the emptiness of the garden - surely such a place is meant to be enjoyed - but one look at the woman in the pagoda's center banishes those questions. She may be entirely unfamiliar with the woman's mode of dress, but she'd been raised amongst royalty, and she knows the bearing when she sees it.

She inclines her head in a gesture of respect, and searches the corners for guards in her peripheral vision. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

IV. The Emperor

[emperorsquared]

The room you find yourself in resembles nothing so much as a personal office or study. Maybe even a small personal library. It's windowless, although there is a fire in a fireplace off to the side. There are photos on the mantlepiece of the fireplace. One one end there's one with a regally dressed Asian couple, holding the hands of a small girl dressed in wisps of gauze. On the other end there's one with a black woman, a white man in a Hawaiian shirt, and a baby girl that looks like both of them. The frames between them are filled with headshots of various people you probably don't recognize. There's a blank frame near the center.

The floor of the office is dark, heavy wood with a red carpet laid on top of it, one that shows a series of mountain ridges. The walls are paneled in dark wood as well, at least up to waist-height. After that, there's bookshelves built into those walls, crammed with heavy and official-looking leather volumes.

The room is dominated by a immensely solid desk of the same black wood. In front of it is a wooden stool upholstered in black leather. Behind it is an almost throne-like office chair, facing away from you. There's a golden nameplate that reads Hakan Caesar. A pair of coffee mugs sit on coasters to the side of it, steaming away and smelling very high quality. One of the mugs has a cartoon ram on it. The other reads: Liminal Space's Best Emperor.

[imperialbadasshiddensnark]

Anakin is...baffled. And on edge. Last he was aware, he had passed away, become fully one with the Force. Leaving the galaxy in the trustworthy hands of his children and their friends. To be alive again, and in this accursed body no less...

But at least he is still himself. He still has the Force...and he has his right hand again. Small comfort. So, he carefully glances at the photographs, curious at how flat they appear to be. Some ancient form of portraits dating back to pre-holo technology, perhaps? This place certainly seems to pre-date most of the technology that he is familiar with, complete with actual books.

It feels...homely, if a bit quaint. With a heavy step, he approaches the desk, catching the familiar wiff of caf with his nose. And very high quality caf at that. Clearly, this is some kind of official's place that he's found himself in. "...normally, I would expect an invitation ahead of time," He snarks to himself.

VI. The Lovers

[cupidand]

You find yourself in a wide open pink space, with swirls of white, gold, and red drifting through the air currents. You can smell chocolate and sugar. When you breathe in, there's the sense that you're inhaling something intoxicating. You can taste the slightest hint of champagne on your tongue.

There is black-and-white checkered tile beneath your feet and bubbles floating around about a dozen or more feet above your head. Some of them glow. Closer to the ground where you are, there's a loveseat, with gilded wood, and pink and red upholstery. There's also a metal wire table enameled in white next to it, the wires forming heartshapes that radiate outward from the center. On the table is a champagne flute filled with something bubbly and pink.

continuation of Matthew's thread

[cupidand]

PSYCHE lands on one end of the loveseat and Matthew on the other.

"Okay," she says turning towards him. "Since this is a serious talk now, we're just going to have to ignore my bubbles for the time being. So. Let's start with Mobebius. Moebius was kind of what you'd call an anomaly, at least in the kind of Jaunts we usually run. We send you into hairy situations, yeah, but they're mostly not extreme. Okay, yeah, sure, there was Harrogate, but honestly, that's 'cause Astræa has a bone to pick with the Elder Goobers and kind of overestimated your competency.

"I mean sure, Moebius' world was in our pool of worlds to send you to, but there's all kinds of Jaunts we've got in our pool that we've never bothered to send you to yet and we probably never will, like that extreme sports one. And we didn't send you there lightly either. You'd all thoroughly earned the trip. And since Morty and Malbolge were the ones you caused the trouble for, they were in charge of the consequences. Morty decided he wanted to put you through that whole Groundhog's Day reset thing. I mean, cycles kind of are his thing, so I figure that was his idea of a good punishment." She shrugs. "Possibly he was even inspired by the movie. He likes comedies.

"Anyway, Morty set the first term, then Malbolge set the second, which was that it needed to have pain and futility, and then we checked our list and there was Moebius, which suited both terms. So they sent you there. The memory stuff wasn't a side effect we'd planned on, but it was probably for the best. And hey, you guys took down some people who really needed to be taken down."

VII. The Chariot

[swinglow]

You are sitting on top of a hollow tire with a plaid blanket thrown over it, in the back of a jostling pickup truck bed. The trucks is moving fast and the scenery around it keeps changing: cornfields, cliffs, the oceanside, the mountains, under water, over land, in the air, outer space. There's a cooler with an open lid next to you. Inside, nestled between the ice cubes, are cans of high-powered energy drinks.

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

The movement of the truck moving fast over the road makes Arthur's upper body sway. He looks around with a practiced calm. He is the second level dreamer; he is the support. One moment, he sees mountains and grass and rocks, the next he sees water, fish. He looks down to the cooler, trails fingertips over the cold cans. And then his hand slips into his pocket, searching for that little die while he mutters- "Must be a dream."

VIII. Strength

[callmemeibe]

This space is an open field, surrounded by marigolds. If one were to look closely, it appears each marigold has exactly eight petals. In the middle of the open field is a sturdy wooden ottoman, carved delicately with the likenesses of lotuses. Next to it is a matching end table, with a steaming cup of masala chai sitting on a saucer with some tea biscuits.

[galvanizer]

... She could have returned to far worse places, probably, so Asaraanda can stay calm for the moment. She spares the chai and biscuits a glance and refocuses on her surroundings, kneeling by the flowers with her staff to the ground.

"Where are you?" she calls, fingertips brushing over the flower petals, absently counting them. "You brought me here, the least you can do is greet your guest."

IX. The Hermit

[powersthatare]

The floor, walls, and ceiling are flat, black, and reflective - like LCD screens. In the center of the room, two yoga mats - matte black, slightly spongy, otherwise nondescript - face one another, and in between them is a floor lamp with a lime green LED bulb glowing softly, and a tray table with a single clear, cylindrical glass on it, filled to the halfway point with liquid that gives off its own faint cyan light.

[morbirdinterest]

Shuu's dungeon rescue has left him more than a little disoriented and out of sorts, not to mention rather worried about what his dungeon may have revealed. This agitated state of mind is not improved by finding himself in this still and empty space with its unpleasantly familiar aesthetic, rather than returned to the Travelers.

Not seeing any other course of action, Shuu seats himself on one of the yoga mats and settles in to wait.

XI. Justice

[adastraea]

The wood in this room is old and well-polished; the lemon scent of the wax lingers in the air. The walls are white-washed clean. A judge's bench is against one wall, although there is no witness' stand beside it. No gallery, either, or seats for the jury, and there is only one table that faces the bench instead of the usual two you might find in a courtroom. Is this a courtroom? There's a bronze medallion of a scale crossed with a sword on the front of the judges' bench.

On the table facing the bench there's a glass of clear, sweet water and a pitcher to refill it. No matter how much water is drunk, there will always be more in the pitcher.

[cloudpotter]

He's on alert immediately, weight shifting to the balls of his feet and steps becoming very carefully placed. Something has gone Very, Very Wrong, and the cool stillness in the air certainly isn't doing anything to settle his nerves. His breathing automatically slows, becoming utterly silent as he casts his eyes about the room and strains his ears to listen for any sound. As far as he can tell the walls are walls, the table is a table, the liquid (water? Poison? Acid?) is liquid. The only thing not immediately visible is whatever's behind that judge's bench, so naturally that's the first place Yakumo heads; skirting around the table, taking great care to avoid touching anything lest he spring a trap, shoes not making a single sound against the floor. Behind the desk might be an enemy, might be a trap, might be nothing -- but whatever the case, he won't find out by just staying still and waiting.

XII. The Hanged Man

[callmemeibe]

The entire room is upside-down.

Or rather, everything in this room appears to be upside-down, except for the room itself. The slightly dusty windows appear to have been installed upside-down, but the scenery past them is no better - it is a confusing mess of floating platforms on large balloons, many of which have accidentally pulled from their mooring island and flipped over in a tangle of ropes, making them useless to anyone. The ceiling's light, which should be hanging elegantly, is instead attached to the ceiling with the sturdy bronze chain dangling instead.

An upturned chair balances perilously next to an upturned table, upon the underside of which sits a clear glass that is filled with some sort of fizzy soda pop - but it is upside down on a crystalline coaster. If anyone wanted to drink it, they'd have to flip it over with the coaster on top. But that can easily be done.

Re: XII. The Hanged Man

[returnofme]

Luke enters the room with the impression that he's been gone a very long time and with only the blurriest of memories to fill in the blanks--he has the vague notion that at one point he'd been on a space station--at another point he'd been investigating a murder?--but where was the connection?

Perhaps it doesn't matter. He's fairly sure where he is now. Liminal space--some form of it.

He turns the chair over first, then uses the coaster to flip the glass of fizzy soda pop. Setting that aside momentarily, although keeping it in sight, he moves to flip the table.

XIII.

[callmemeibe]

You find yourself in a triskaidekaphobic's nightmare. But other than that, it's remarkably pleasant.

It is an old-fashioned drawing room, the wooden furniture a little worn and dinged up, but passable. There are chairs and settees galore to sit upon - thirteen, to be exact - all of them comfortable. There is a small table filled with a variety of assorted liquors and sodas to mix them with, placed right next to a (clean) ashtray. Thirteen glasses are stacked carefully next to the bottles. An antique grandfather clock gently ticks away the hours... thirteen of them, if the clock's face is to be believed.

The walls themselves are a pleasant yellow, studded with white thirteen-petaled flowers barely in bloom. On each side of the mantelpiece are bouquets of roses in chipped vases, each one holding thirteen fresh white roses in the center of thirteen dying roses. The mantelpiece itself holds thirteen pieces of art, twelve small, and the one in the center a rather well-known painting. The fire is warm, but does not burn when touched, and does not set fire to the ornamental rug which has been mended a few times, covering worn but cared-for wooden floorboards.

[icanhearscreams]

He opens his eyes, and looks around.

... If this is some kind of heaven or hell, it's already weird. It looks... European? Something like that. He's not sure, and he's still very tired. He lets out a deep breath and jerks in surprise - dead people don't breathe. But they don't stand and look around, either.

"Dung Beetle!" He calls the name sharply, but nothing happens. "Dung Beetle!" ... No answer. No snark. Nothing. He frowns and sits down in a chair, putting his head in his hands. None of this makes sense. None of his life has made sense lately anyway, but he'd been prepared to die. Now... he has no idea what's going on.

XV. The Devil

[powersthatare]

The room is circular, carved out of polished basalt, and around the circumference of the room is a boundary of crystalline firepits giving off faint blue flame. Distant subsonic noise thrums unsettlingly throughout the space, setting teeth on edge and putting the hair on the back of your neck on end. A brushed steel coffee table supported by an empty cage sits in the middle of the room, and beside it is an bronze chair cast from the image of one fetal, kneeling person as the seat, and one arched and contorted human form as the back and arms. A reservoir glass half-full of green, licorice-scented liquid and a silver absinthe spoon sit on the coffee table,

[meanballerina]

[Natasha's first priority is walking the circumference of the room, looking for any possible way out. She doesn't know how she got here, but she's definitely not going to just stand around waiting for whoever the chair's for to show up. Touching the absinthe doesn't even cross her mind.]

XVI. The Tower

[powersthatare]

You are standing on a rope bridge, swaying uneasily over a chasm, in the midst of a torrential rainstorm. Except for the occasional distant flicker of lightning - the thunder is drowned out by the continuous roar of frigid water - there is absolutely no light.

[yourotherleft]

Oh. Great.

[because what's better after a confusing introduction to the concept of other worlds than pouring damn rain, darkness, and a rickety bridge? this is fine. this is just totally fine.]

OOOOOIIII! Anybody else here?

XVIII. The Moon

[iseethe]

You are in a round pavilion, gauzy mist-grey curtains hanging between the silver columns that outline the shape of the pavilion. They flutter and sway in the night breeze. The floors of the pavilion are silver polished to a mirror finish. Should you look down at your feet, you will see yourself--but not yourself. Instead, you will see you as how you've wished to be or perhaps how you fear you are. If you look up at the high domed ceiling, you will see the night sky, the moon hanging impossibly large overhead.

There is a reclining couch in the center of the pavilion, upholstered in dark grey velvet. In front of it is another column, a miniature of the ones at the edge of the pavilion, a collins glass of high-proof colorless corn whiskey on top.

[finalizes]

Laughs-at-the-Storm's first look doesn't go up to the ceiling, or to the decoration or furnishing. It goes around, and then around again, dread settling in at the terrible feeling of being cut off. Alone.

Where Silent-Death was standing just a moment ago, there is a silver column. She's gone (was she standing there? Perhaps this is a dream, he certainly doesn't want this feeling to be real). He stifles any reaction, staying as still and quiet as he can, calling on his gift of Blissful Ignorance - vanishing from everyone's perception as long as he stays still. Perhaps it will work. But if this is a dream, or something else (but he was in the Tellurian, he was nowhere near anyone but Silent-Death)... Disorienting. He needs an idea of where he is. He concentrates on his surroundings, scents and sounds and well, what can be seen, too. What does the night breeze bring? Looking around, likely not the thick smell of wet earth and trees, lingering trails of rabbits and reindeer, of a lake nearby.

XIX. The Sun

[powersthatare]

A dome-shaped room with floor and ceiling of beaten gold glows with a light that appears sourceless - until you look down and see the glow is coming from beneath your own skin, as radiant as a flashlight shone from the other side of your hand. In the middle of the room hovers a gold-rimmed glass disc, with a white teacup full of rich brown tea, sun-warmed and honey-sweetened, resting on it.

[pearlyspirit]

Pearl's eyes are wide as she appears in the room, very disoriented from the sudden change. She... kind of feels like this might be back in that, um, Liminal Space? But it feels different somehow. "Hello?" she ventures cautiously into the room, stepping forward and looking over the teacup, "Oh! I-it's floating! Like magic!"

XX. Judgment

[callmemeibe]

A shroud of mist obscures the vision, but when it slowly parts, a warm golden glow illuminates a floor and ceiling of white, fluffy clouds, softer than silk on the skin and delightfully buoyant, water droplets somehow not sticking to skin despite feeling wet when touched. The circle of fluffy, dense clouds extends to about ten meters in diameter, all told, and then drops off to an empty, golden sky. It is advised one does not fall off the edge - for it seems to lead nowhere.

Marble pillars veined with gold occasionally protrude through the clouds, their facades elegantly carved into the likenesses of cherubs at the architrave and base. In the middle of this circle of clouds is a marble table, upon which rests one golden chalice, filled with a clear, but deliciously sweet liquid, that seems to not only feed the mind, but soothe the soul as well.

[dalectable]

This certainly isn't where Vilari expected to come out to, not that she can ever predict what Liminal Space will look like when she emerges. She feels especially filthy in such a clearly clean and beautiful space, absently wiping at her blood-streaked cheek. The distinct lack of other Travelers makes it just a tad disturbing, especially when she's been stuck alone, in her Dungeon, for who knows how long.