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peacockstop2024-10-15 09:00 pm
TDM 06
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
On behalf of the house and resort, we would like to advise all Game 52 players to exercise caution around the Golden Peacock for the next few weeks. The veil between 'what is' and 'what has been' grows thin and the threads of fate have tangled in unexpected ways. We are currently observing how these two phenomena behave when they occur simultaneously and act in concert.
We advise that all guests monitor their physical states until the veil thickens once again and the threads of fate return to running parallel. If you find yourself undergoing any strange transformations, please report to the Broken Wing clinic for observation. We will do our utmost to make sure you are comfortable during this time.
You may also notice other strange phenomena around the Golden Peacock while the veil is thin. Please continue to exercise caution. New wayward spirits have joined us during this time. While spirits are crossing, it is possible for guests to get swept along into the ghostly realm.
As always, please let us know if there is anything we can do to improve your stay. 】
HEADS
TAILS
MAIN LOBBY
BACK HALLWAYS & STAIRS
MONSTER MASH
THE VALE
SMOKED EGG
BALANCE RETURNS
OOC NOTES
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's October event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from October 15th - November 3rd. All supernatural phenomenon will increase in strength over time, culminating in peak activity on All Hallows' Eve. The days following Halloween will relax, leading into eventual normalcy. Some locations are spared the supernatural frenzy, so players can play as normal if they wish to avoid these tropes/prompts. Players may assume that the supernatural come and go in the above specifically incorporated locations.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate. This TDM in particular has the potential to get real wild, so we want to emphasize this request!
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Go forth and let your freak flag fly!
the lobby!
He blinks, not at all fazed at the sudden touch from a stranger—he’s far too used to that sort of thing by now, though the cold shock of metal on his skin certainly is…new.
How odd…this man speaks as if he knows of the resort’s machinations, but somehow he’s unaware that the last game had already occurred some weeks before…
While he’s mulling that thought over, he wastes no time in scrutinizing that most fascinating arm underneath the moonlight. Prosthetics aren’t entirely unheard of where he’s from, though he doesn’t always get to see one up close very often. It brings to mind Daan and the ruined stump of his arm, a prosthetic made of stone sitting on a table between them…
He quickly shakes his head. The stranger had asked him a question, hadn’t he?
“My apologies. I’m certain this is another thing entirely.”
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The limb is stained by rust and seeming disuse, the leather cuff belted up under his shoulder cracked and worn. The doctor's scrutiny isn't enough to coax him into tucking the potentially offensive limb behind his back, but it's enough that his fingers slip from his arm to hang at his side.
The man's braided hair is the verdant color of spring, and his delicate face is paler where the milky moonlight paints it. He sounds as pleasant as he looks, and his apology appears to ease some of the wariness in the puppet's stare. What else could it be? dies on his tongue. I'm certain, he had said, which makes it sound like perhaps the stranger doesn't know, either. His guess is as good as any.
He conveys his understanding with a nod.
"It's my turn to apologize for letting my curiosity overcome good manners. Pinocchio," he offers, sweeping his metal arm under his bow in a genuflect. "It's kind of you to indulge my question."
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He doesn’t often get this kind of royal treatment—which of course means that Pinocchio’s managed to summon his mischievous side in the midst of this moonlit madness currently afflicting the resort.
At least it takes Baizhu’s attention away from that arm? He’ll cycle back to that eventually anyway, if only out of concern for this poor stranger’s health.
“I’m Baizhu, a doctor. I suppose it’s only fair for me to apologize for staring.”
If he had a nickel for every one-armed weirdo he’s encountered in this place…
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"A doctor," parrots the puppet thoughtfully, "Like Daan, then," he recalls aloud the man that Cloud had been so taken with. The two of them are the only doctors he's ever really known, now; since any ailments he might experience aren't, he thinks, something the staff at the Broken Wing can deal with. (Not that he's ever checked.)
It isn't very nice to compare people, but Pinocchio finds himself doing so anyway. Baizhu seems less serious, less weary than Daan, though he can't say that he knows either of them better than the other.
The metal joints of his fingers clunk and clatter as he makes a fist and then opens it, gaze diverted towards the limb briefly, "I'm used to it," his arm lowers again, albeit with a shuddery kind of flex that looks uncomfortable at best, painful at worst, though he doesn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Why do your eyes look like that?"
Without the benefit of Gemini's guidance, he has no conscience to advise him that asking so directly is rude, and potentially hurtful. He can regret it later.
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This man with the rusty arm, though? He’s wide open.
“How cute.” A chuckle, as Pinocchio just revealed himself to be the painfully honest sort. But the question hardly offends, and might even amuse the other party who bears his true eyes.
“I can tell you that it’s a long and fascinating story, if you don’t mind my asking after your arm as well.”
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Pinocchio makes no attempt to disguise the way he weighs this opportunity against his previous interest in the artificial moon hanging low over the lobby, turning his face towards the milky light for a speculative moment.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, "I know a place we can talk. The Red Cardinal."
More importantly, it's an eatery reliable for not spiking its food with substances meant to lower inhibitions and encourage players of the Game to exchange cards. He's spent months in this place, plenty of time to understand how nearly every aspect of life in the resort seems to be hell-bent on cleaving players together. Not that he's got it entirely right — that's just the low-hanging fruit, the deeper machinations remain beyond his limited view and understanding of what others are capable of.
"Would you care to accompany me, doctor?"
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“I’d be delighted.” No hesitation whatsoever. The Red Cardinal is also one of his favorite places here, and its proprietress one of his most favorite people. And most of all, if his new “patient” over here is more comfortable in there, then he sees no reason to veto him.
“I was just thinking that this is better discussed over a nice cup of tea.”
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It's not easy to make the trek in the dark. Helping himself to one of the lanterns that were hung in the lobby, Pinocchio leads the way, accompanied by the quiet chatter of machine parts, presumably from that twitchy prosthesis. Warm light pours from the entrance to this little hole in the wall, and from the sound of it, it's already bustling.
As luck would have it, there's still space in a little table tucked away. Even more luckily, it's furthest from the noisiest group of the lot, and he can actually hear himself when he takes a seat. It creaks a little ominously under his weight, "I find the green one is a little bitter," he says, not realizing it's because he'd let it steep for too long, "What do you think of jasmine?" Tea, he means tea. It's not what he really wants to know — the way blue eyes linger on his is an open admission of that — but he's minding his manners.
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He has to wonder if there will come a time when even the Red Cardinal will cease to be a refuge, however…
But Baizhu sees the question in Pinocchio’s eyes, and chuckles as he settles down into his seat. There are far more interesting mysteries to unravel at the moment.
“Of course, jasmine tea sounds lovely.”
Warm, delicate, floral. An interesting choice from this rather glum, rackety-clank stranger he’d run into. Baizhu will have to introduce him to a few other teas from his own personal collection.
“Would you like to pair it with something sweet?”
Seeing as how Pinocchio doesn’t seem to be a fan of bitter flavors…
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There is little mistaking the way his eyes light up for anything short of interested, even enthusiastic, when the doctor suggests something sweet.
"Dessert before the meal?
"You rebel," he chides in jest, as though he isn't already turning the slim menu over to peek at the bottom, eyeing off a small rotating list of sweets. One finger hovering over the lines of text, he reads aloud.
"They have... 'rustic and crumbly almond cookies', 'ginger milk curd', and... I don't know how to pronounce that one," he says, brow creasing. The puppet sets down the menu, looking at Baizhu curiously: "I thought milk was usually thrown out when it curdles." Doesn't that mean it's gone bad? Then why is it listed as a dessert?
...Now he's just more curious. "Have you a preference?"
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He really is too honest for his own good.
“Why don’t we try all of them?”
What does any of that have to do with studying that prosthesis? Don’t worry about it. He can already tell that this is going to be a very fun experiment indeed—
“That way you’ll be able to see for yourself.”
See what? The milk curd? Sneaking in sweets before dinner? The shock he’s going to get from their tab later on? Does it matter? The way Pinocchio lights up is more than enough for him, and already he’s flagging down a server to pretty much order all the desserts as threatened.
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That it should strike him as odd that a doctor is encouraging indulging in so many sweets doesn't occur to him. This is the privilege of the manufactured; he doesn't have to worry about things like cavities or disease. Doesn't have first-hand experience with the services of a doctor, can't picture the priorities one might have.
The server asks if they're sure, eyeing off the two men — slim, not what one might expect of a big eater — before setting off. Pinocchio breaks the following silence, nudging him with the tip of his shoe under the table.
"I believe you promised me a story, good doctor," he might seem coy, with that tip of his head, but it's only his curiosity urging him along. They haven't been served yet, but he can't resist, lacing his fingers — seeming flesh and metal — under his chin, gazing expectantly at his company.
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“Well, you might find it a bit of a sad story,” he says with a little chuckle as their tea is finally brought over, and Baizhu starts pouring them each a cup—Pinocchio’s first, before his own. He takes a deep breath, the pleasant floral aroma of that tea bringing his mind back to all those flowers he’d left at a certain gravesite for years…
“It all started with a plague a long, long time ago, and a particularly desperate doctor who traveled quite a long way to find a cure…”
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"You?" he guesses naively; it isn't that Pinocchio has no appreciation of time as much as he has a distorted perception of it. Krat was a terribly long time ago for him, despite it only being ten months ago, and he has an even longer time, perhaps forever, stretched out before him. Baizhu might be talking of some predecessor, a teacher and mentor, or even an inspiration that set him on his current path.
It's rude to interrupt, though, and as he remembers himself, he makes a gesture by pinching index finger and thumb together and dragging it across his mouth, like with a zipper. A twist of the wrist, and he's tossing the invisible key he'd used to lock up over his shoulder. He'll be good! (Or he'll try.)
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Not that Baizhu needs to tell him everything, of course—
“But he’s the founder of the path of healing I follow. Or the co-founder, I should say, as his journey led him to seek out a god of healing, only to find…well…”
With his eyes still on Pinocchio—for he’d never really relented in his observations of him—he gestures with his hand, and an illusory green snake bursts forth from his fingers, twirling and floating in the air between them before promptly vanishing.
Hopefully Pinocchio isn’t afraid of snakes—
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As he listens in rapt attention, he puts his steel hand around a cup that's assuredly a little too hot, only to pull it away with a shake. It doesn't break his concentration, however; when the green snake erupts into being in a seeming act of prestidigitation, Pinocchio doesn't give a start but his eyes go round with wonder.
Amazed but unafraid, he lifts his other hand to reach for it, like he means to catch its small, rounded head between thumb and forefinger. It'd likely get him bitten if this were a real (and venomous) snake. He's bold — but in an unknowing sort of way — and as it vanishes he draws his hand back. That's more like a startle. Give him a moment to sort out the meaning of his magic trick — Pinocchio's had the ability to parse allegory for about... 5 months (those spent as a statue don't count).
"He found a serpent?"
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He mentally files those thoughts away for another time.
“That’s right. Her name is Changsheng, and she possesses not only an extensive knowledge of the healing arts, but also the power of healing itself. This, she has bestowed upon the founder in the form of a contract.”
Then Baizhu points upward, toward his eyes, finally getting to point—“And every successor to Changsheng’s arts exchange eyes with her as proof of our contract.”
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"How is it you can still see?" he asks, "If you've changed out your eyes?"
It never seemed so simple for those who were afflicted with Petrification Disease, if all it took was replacing them with someone else's parts, then he has no doubt people would have done it. After all, those who could have rarely had qualms about taking from those who didn't, whether it was Ergo, labor, food...
The cookies arrive. So engrossed is he in their conversation, he doesn't even mark their arrival.
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“Who can say? Perhaps it was simply...magic.”
There’s another word to gauge Pinocchio’s reaction with, for he’d found that people here have mixed feelings about gods and snakes and, well, magic. But if a man is willing to accept that a snake can pass on the healing arts, then...
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So... not a skeptic, but perhaps not terribly familiar with the concept. At the very least, not possessing any special abilities to perceive anything like that.
Sophia's power could have been called magic. He has touched the Arm of God and seen firsthand its monstrous power in Simon Manus. But these things were observed with a new consciousness unbiased by experience, accepted as readily as everything else. To him, the possibilities are truly endless. Or he's just super gullible.
It's a little of both.
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“It certainly is. Though I suppose the very concept of magic can be hard to fine, given the sort of world we currently reside in.”
And the resort has something that’s confounding to him despite his vast knowledge—technology, and really advanced technology, which can accomplish much the same thing as some of his magic.
But he figures that bringing that up might be a tad overwhelming for someone so unused to the concept of magic to begin with.
“Is this really your first encounter with it?”
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"...I'm not sure," he confesses. "I heard that magic is whatever normal people can't do. It's all very mysterious, isn't it?"
Pinocchio tastes the treat. It's not too sweet, which seems strange to him for a dessert. As the recipe is Chinese, turns out this is exactly how sweet it's supposed to be. But it's not biscotti, he's probably not supposed to be dipping it into his tea like he is (and losing half of the crumbly treat into his drink in the process).
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He’s not going to be disapproving of Pinocchio’s eating habits anytime soon. Far be it for him to discourage someone else from experimenting with something new, after all. And Baizhu, for his part, takes his own cookie and gently lifts the almond embedded therein, holding it up to Pinocchio as he lets another surge of elemental power flow into it.
The almond swells, buds. Sprouts into a lovely pale blossom, while Baizhu casually takes a bite out of the remains of his own cookie.
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Pinocchio again reaches out, stroking its pale blossom with a metal fingertip. While he investigates, he gives his thoughts.
"You give life," he observes, "Can you give anything life?"
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Pinocchio's not wrong, though. In fact, he might be closer to the truth of Baizhu's powers than he realizes.
"But I'm afraid there are caveats to this power."
He glances over to Pinocchio's fascinating mechanical arm, before giving him an apologetic look.
"Most of my regenerative powers are restricted to nature. While I can heal some flesh-and-blood wounds, I cannot grow a new limb for you."
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