hexarchate_rpg | Chapter 3.1: The party begins

EDIT: The base is sited in the year 951, in a very odd timeline that has NO h*archate. Supplies have to be brought in via rift from other timelines. Thread here.

Ashari's new base features variable layout, which has been put to use in creating an extravagant ballroom. Tables to one side boast a variety of foods, drinks both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and the occasional euphoric drugs. Candlevines glow blue and violet, and flower arrangements interspersed with fantastic sculptures of lace-woven wire adorn the tables. The arrangements mean various sarcastic things, if you're familiar with the Andan petal language.

Music plays softly enough not to overwhelm conversation, loudly enough to set a mood complementing the low-key lighting.

Remi is one of the first arrivals from the Cantata, shepherding the mothlings. Because he's a Nirai, he has a slate and is taking notes, although he is happy enough to talk to anyone who approaches him.

The kitchen is currently adjacent to the ballroom. Ashari's voice can be heard, raised in some kind of argument with...a caterer?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[I know I'm stepping in with a character formerly run by a friend of yours, so: what do you, as a player, want out of this interaction with Ashari-being-run-as-NPC? Angst? Reaffirmation of the relationship? Something else?]

[Oh, sorry, I should have realized that was probably something that could do with some clarification. Thanks for being a thoughtful GM!

I think I'm just after a good continuing source of angst. Ashari probably wants to keep Sulen safely away from whatever they've gotten embroiled into, and might push Sulen away to accomplish that, or implying that Sulen's presence would endanger them would also work. It'd be nice to have a good reason why they're not chatting to each other whenever the spacetime continuum permits.]

[Got it!]

Ashari says, with a hurtful breeziness, "I don't want to bore you with the minutiae of running this base. Things have been quite busy. But there will be time enough tomorrow, after the party, to discuss next steps, given that we're all alone." They are perhaps a little too drugged to be as discreet as they should be.

Sulen doesn't take another step forward.

"That's not quite true at this moment," they say, aware of Dar and Deyna and Shess's presence in the kitchen. In a lower voice they say, "Sasha isn't sure it's true in a larger sense, either."

They will at least discharge their duty to Sasha.

Ashari's eyes narrow. "What's Sasha's analysis?" Belatedly, they look around, raising their eyebrows as if noticing the others' presence for the first time. "Whisper it in my ear, darling," they add, leaning in with a hint of their old provocative friendliness.

A storm of negative emotion surges through Sulen, and as always, is directed inward.

They don't take the invitation to lean forward, but they speak even more quietly. "Sasha conversed with the moth," they say. "It apparently spoke of predators. Remaining here does not seem a safe course." Sulen closes their eyes. They don't want to look at Ashari or their signifier. "On a personal level, I would prefer it if you were somewhere safer."

"Yes, but on what timescale?" A small wrinkle forms between Ashari's brows, and disappears just as quickly. "I'll talk to her when an opportunity presents itself." And, back to that breeziness: "Safety is not something any of us are likely to see much of, eh?"

The warning is delivered. Their duty discharged. They are free to extricate themself from this... mortifying situation, now.

They are going to do that. At any moment.

"Of course."

They're going to turn and leave now.

"I like the flowers."

Ugh.

Chapter 3.1: The party begins

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