pc: firefly

[sacredpath]

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week 0; monday

[sacredpath]

[she's wearing a beach outfit! because that's where we are, the beach. she's walking along the shore, staying along the edge of the tide so just her feet get wet.]

...It really is beautiful, isn't it?

[fightolive]

[ Meanwhile she's wearing this because she didn't know the beach was here. ]

It really is. I didn't get to see the ocean too often.

[sacredpath]

[cute.]

I've seen the ports at home, but it's not peaceful like this.

[fightolive]

Those tend to be really busy, but sometimes that's nice to see too.

[sacredpath]

Honestly, it has nothing on this. Just fish smell and sailors cursing.

week 1; monday

[sacredpath]

[she's out here at night wearing a cheap wig while being menaced by spider skeletons.]

But spiders don't have bones!

[fightolive]

[Casting a curious glance at the wig.]

Maybe they're alien spiders that do?

... Then again I've never studied them.

[sacredpath]

Same as ordinary spiders, only there are bones in them?

[fightolive]

I won't discount the possibility. The cosmos contains so much.

[sacredpath]

You are... quite the scholar, it seems.

week 1; saturday

[sacredpath]

[goes to find her. where'd our little fight olive run off to.]

[fightolive]

[ She isn't that far, just at the train station, looking tired. ]

[sacredpath]

[oh good. thanks for angsting someplace close.]

...Hello. I hope you're not a violent murderer.

[fightolive]

[ She's a nice murderer like that. ]

I don't want to be.

[sacredpath]

You don't strike me as a cold manipulator, but then again, the best ones wouldn't.

I only mean... it's all over now. He really did attack you, yes?

week 2; monday

[sacredpath]

[okay, so gimme prompt. au timeline, baby, just normal firefly? whatever you give me, shadowheart has some stuff going on too, but exactly what will depend on what you want to do.]

[fightolive]

[ This is Firefly from way before 4,000. Considerably younger and had a very different sort of job. ]

[sacredpath]

[cool. she's sitting at a table at the tea party, waving.]

Well, hello there, you. You're looking a little different today.

[fightolive]

[She'll approach.]

I've been hearing that a lot... Is it really that different?

[sacredpath]

It looks different to me. Do you feel different?

week 3; monday

[sacredpath]

[i'm throwing us right into it. a door opens and they're deposited in the funhouse mirror area.

The funhouse mirrors take you down a path that seems to grow darker as you walk. What is reflected in the mirrors is a hazy landscape, all in grays, with swirling thick darkness that looks like smoke all around. Everything in this land is dead, everything. The ground is cracked and patched. No plants grow here, except for the odd glowing foliage of the underdark, which is adapted to darkness. There are no living animals, but there are beings in the dark. Undead corpses of animals with glowing eyes animated by some evil power, dark shadow shapes, even the corpses of people from time to time, ones who wandered in here and fell.

Other mirrors show flickers of the story of this land. A century ago, this was a thriving and lush landscape ruled over from the nearby castle, Moonrise Towers. There was a market town and many people who lived in the rural areas. But a curse was placed on this land by the goddess Shar. Everyone who once lived here either died or fled, because no life can thrive in the shadows. The shadow curse eats away at anyone who travels through it before they join the armies of undead.

Shadowheart is traveling through this land with her companions, Gale, Karlach, and Astarion. They’re using lanterns to keep the shadows at bay, but in the darker places, even that doesn’t work. But Shadowheart seems less affected by the others.

“The shadow curse… it doesn’t seem to affect me like it does others. Not as badly, at least.” Shadowheart’s voice sounds pleased. “Do you know what this means? Lady Shar is protecting me, while others are left to face her wrath.” She’s touched by this, like this is an unexpected blessing, a protection she didn’t think she’d be granted, but is now taking as proof of something she hadn’t thought she’d ever see proof of. “...She loves me. She must do.”

She notices the others slightly unimpressed, and adds - “Don’t give me that look. It’s a good thing I’m resistant to the shadows. I can help all of you.” And then more to herself - “Lady Shar wouldn’t bless me like this for no reason. There must be something she wants of me.”

The journey leads you deeper into these cursed lands. Despite Shadowheart’s claim of receiving a blessing, this is an awful place, and even she seems to be feeling it. Eventually, they come to a road, and find a destroyed caravan, bodies strewn all over the place. Men, women, children, all horned and colorful people, tieflings, lying murdered in the road, attacked. Though a few were armed, and though one or two of the bandits who killed them lie dead as well, most were refugees, not warriors.

(Memories on the mirrors on the other side of the wall. A party, in a serene grove, at night. A celebration in honor of Shadowheart and her friends. Tieflings drinking, dancing, toasting to them for helping save them and find a safe path to Baldur’s Gate. Many of the dead were among those remembered from the party, though some notable faces are missing.)

The sight is horrible, but the next turn through the mirrors leads to something else. An inn, easily visible through the darkness, as it is shrouded in an enormous bubble of light, blinding and looking like the surface of the moon. Inside the spell of protection, life can thrive and the shadows are banished. And Shadowheart and her friends find most of the remaining survivors of the tiefling caravan there, having been given shelter by the inn’s owner, a cleric named Isobel.

The reunion with the survivors is mixed. It’s a happy thing, that they survived and found shelter, but there’s no way to travel ahead, many of their party were killed, and many more are missing. Some of the children beg them to go find one of their friends who is being held captive; others as after missing loved ones and family members, but there’s no way to guarantee they can be saved or are even still alive.

Shadowheart goes upstairs with the others and meets Isobel. The conversation is brief, and tense, but perhaps there’s more there, if you linger and peer more deeply into the mirrors.

Isobel is at work renewing the ritual that protects this inn. It’s a beautiful thing, like summoning moonlight in her hands and letting it spread out across the area. She turns, and takes the party in.

“I didn’t realize I had an audience.” Her gaze falls on Shadowheart. “And a Sharran one, at that. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re willing to help us. Your kind aren’t known for their decency, particularly when a Sharran curse is our greatest obstacle.” She sighs. “But if you are who I think you are, I’d be a fool to reject your help.”

“I won’t be spoken to like that by a Selǔnite,” Shadowheart snaps back at her.

In an adjacent mirror, the shadow of Moonrise Towers, the enemy occupying it. An obstacle that Shadowheart and her friends must face, and an enemy of Isobel and all of the people taking refuge in this inn. For reasons unknown to you, the man controlling Moonrise Towers wants Isobel brought to him a prisoner, but if Isobel leaves this place, or falls, every last person inside the inn will fall to the shadow curse and die. She needs Shadowheart’s help, but Shadowheart has come here seeking help from her, as well.

“We’ve both got a bitter pill to swallow,” Isobel says, conciliatory. “When this is over, we can spit it back out. But for now, you’ll be needing a protection spell, won’t you?” the woman adds. “I see Shar has offered you protection already, but no harm from some extra. Even from a Selǔnite.”

Shadowheart agrees, and Isobel casts her spell, but as the magic washes over her, she clasps her hand in pain. The feeling of a spell using Selûne’s magic triggers pain from the old wound on her hand, reminding her that making peace this way is not accepted.

“Imagine being compelled to hide a shrine in a land that is utterly hostile to you and your goddess,” Shadowheart says, after they leave Isobel’s chambers. “Utter pig-headedness.”

“Hmm,” Gale says. “Tenacity might be a kinder word for it?”

“I’ll leave the kinder words to the softer hearts,” Shadowheart says.

Even so, without questioning it, Shadowheart and her friends defend the inn when forces from Moonrise Towers attack, keep them from taking Isobel or hurting her, so that Selûne’s protection can remain in place for a little longer.

There are more pathways, leading ahead, all lit by the glow of that protective moonlit spell. A story of a war between two goddesses, one that tends to use the lives of mortals as chess pieces, but more, too, some sort of deeper conflict within Shadowheart, one she doesn’t seem to understand herself. You can explore deeper, but there’s also a way out, back out of the hall of mirrors.

[fightolive]

[ It's a lot to witness all at once. It always feels so invasive to watch on as they play out, but the idea of just leaving someone in their memories like this doesn't sit right with her either.

A story of gods and mortal pieces is common enough, but this cursed land doesn't seem fit for anyone at all. ]

Shadowheart, are you in here?

[ At the very least, she can try to call out. ]

[sacredpath]

I'm here.

[she's not really distressed by this memory, it's a recent one, and straightforward. but there are pieces of it she's drawn to all the same, so she hasn't left yet. she's looking at the mirror, where isobel is, frowning to herself.]

[fightolive]

[ Then she'll approach. ]

You don't want to leave?

[sacredpath]

[she considers, for a moment, but can't put her finger on what the problem is.]

...I think it would be best to leave, yes.

[let's get out of here.]