[She's surpassed boomer all the way into ye olde... except Luke doesn't know that. Actually, now that he can see her better, he frowns; she shouldn't be injured in here?! HELLO.]
Rosamund? [He saw the profiles! He raises his hands.] Stand still for me, okay? I think I can reset this.
[First a knight now a wizard... if he hadn't discovered Sidon was a real fishman he would start to wonder if everyone else really did get yoinked from a hardcore anime con
He just rolls with it though.]
No, not a wizard. Hold on. [AND HE WILL JUST. Take over access to the sim room with his I.R.I.S. and adjust the simulation; he doesn't want Rosamund to fall to the ground, so he changes the brambles to a pillow mountain instead. There!]
She suddenly flops onto the pillows, absolutely flummoxed. With the dispelling of the briars some of the blood and scrapes disappear, all conjured by the same illusory magic.
Enough remains though. The wounds garnered by mere movement, always inevitable.
Rosamund surveys the room in utter astonishment. Her heart's still going a mile a minute. Then her lip quivers. She presses her face into the pillow below, clutching it tight to her head.
[Luke just kind of stands frozen for a minute, confused and vaguely panicky in that dumb way that boys are when a girl is crying--but quickly enough, he regains his bearings, and immediately moves over to join her.]
[What a mess. She sniffs and raises her head, though only to duck it away from him and wipe her eyes. Princess privileges dictate that she is a pretty crier at least.]
It's just — I thought it was me again. And then it just disappears? Just like that?
[SHE IS THE PRETTIEST OF CRIERS. Carefully, if he can, Luke reaches out to rest a reassuring hand on her back.]
It must be pretty confusing, if you're not used to it. [Which she. Obviously isn't. His tone is sympathetic, though.] This room is like... [Hmmm. How does he explain this in the most basic way possible...] Have you ever been to a play?
[There there... Luke will let her cry as long as she needs.]
Right, exactly. [He was just going to compare it to a stage's set but this works better tbh. Y'all's worlds are SO wild. Fortunately, he's gone to LARPing theme parks before, so he can roll with it.] It takes a little practice to get used to it, but you can make it anything you'd like inside these rooms. Even these pillows aren't real--they'll disappear as soon as we turn it off. Or, uh--cancel the spell.
[She's working on drying it up, dutifully dabbing at her eyes and slowing her breathing. Bless his patience.]
I see. I understand. I feel so stupid. I— [She lifts a hand, then abandons the gesture.] I have seen illusions like that before. But, I was alone, and I can't cast those kinds of spells anyway, so when the briars came I thought they must be...Oh, I'm such an idiot.
[Covering her eyes once more. Luckily it's just chagrin this time.]
Of course there'd be something like that. The things in this place...they don't make sense to me. But they serve all the same purposes. It's like someone took apart the world and built it again, with all the blocks in the wrong places.
Hey, no--don't feel stupid. Trust me, if I woke up in your world one day, I'd be scared and confused too. I wouldn't know how anything worked. [Granted, he's very adaptable, but. Still. There are definitely no wizards or spells in Stellis.
He listens a little longer, letting her get it out. It's impossible not to let his gaze drop to the briars, but he's careful not to touch them.]
To be honest, a lot of it is strange to me, too. It's not quite as bad, but some things... it's like they've been moved a little to the left. Like this room--there are artists who've used something similar in their exhibits, but those are all predetermined, like a set of paintings. It's not something anyone can do with a few little taps. [Except ToT is set in 2030 so they probably have rampant generative AI but we don't need to think about that hellscape.]
[She's starting to suspect she's out of her element in more ways than one. He'd probably find her world all too simple once he knew what was at the heart of it.
Rosamund listens attentively. It helps, truly. Her breathing has evened out and she isn't sniffling as much anymore.]
That sounds nice. An artist would make good use of a thing like this.
[Shhh listen they don't have to acknowledge that, okay, they can pretend he would be just as confused and freaked out as her.
Anyway, he lifts his wrist, pulling up the I.R.I.S. display and angling it for her to see.]
See right here? If you move your hand like this... [He swipes horizontally--] and then tap this, right here, you can send a t--a letter. The other person should receive it right away. If something like this happens again, send one to me, okay? I'll come find you, wherever you are.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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be so close to accurate, wow. She is technically an uber boomer, how far back in the past do you have to go before you're a different category?]
What? [She still sounds horrified. Strained. Because she is, and she's still climbing to the nadir of the murderous thicket.] Turn "off?"
[Then she reaches the top and locks eyes with him at the door. She's bleeding anew in several places.]
You again!
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Rosamund? [He saw the profiles! He raises his hands.] Stand still for me, okay? I think I can reset this.
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[She doesn't remember everything from everyone's profiles maybe she missed something
Either way she holds for the moment. Work your magic, sweet Luke.]
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He just rolls with it though.]
No, not a wizard. Hold on. [AND HE WILL JUST. Take over access to the sim room with his I.R.I.S. and adjust the simulation; he doesn't want Rosamund to fall to the ground, so he changes the brambles to a pillow mountain instead. There!]
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She suddenly flops onto the pillows, absolutely flummoxed. With the dispelling of the briars some of the blood and scrapes disappear, all conjured by the same illusory magic.
Enough remains though. The wounds garnered by mere movement, always inevitable.
Rosamund surveys the room in utter astonishment. Her heart's still going a mile a minute. Then her lip quivers. She presses her face into the pillow below, clutching it tight to her head.
It doesn't quite muffle the sobs.]
1/2
2/2
Hey, hey, you're safe. It's alright.
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[What a mess. She sniffs and raises her head, though only to duck it away from him and wipe her eyes. Princess privileges dictate that she is a pretty crier at least.]
It's just — I thought it was me again. And then it just disappears? Just like that?
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It must be pretty confusing, if you're not used to it. [Which she. Obviously isn't. His tone is sympathetic, though.] This room is like... [Hmmm. How does he explain this in the most basic way possible...] Have you ever been to a play?
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Yes? [She says through a sniffle.] Mummers would come perform at feasts all the time.
Are you saying it's just an illusionary spell? For entertainment?
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Right, exactly. [He was just going to compare it to a stage's set but this works better tbh. Y'all's worlds are SO wild. Fortunately, he's gone to LARPing theme parks before, so he can roll with it.] It takes a little practice to get used to it, but you can make it anything you'd like inside these rooms. Even these pillows aren't real--they'll disappear as soon as we turn it off. Or, uh--cancel the spell.
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I see. I understand. I feel so stupid. I— [She lifts a hand, then abandons the gesture.] I have seen illusions like that before. But, I was alone, and I can't cast those kinds of spells anyway, so when the briars came I thought they must be...Oh, I'm such an idiot.
[Covering her eyes once more. Luckily it's just chagrin this time.]
Of course there'd be something like that. The things in this place...they don't make sense to me. But they serve all the same purposes. It's like someone took apart the world and built it again, with all the blocks in the wrong places.
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He listens a little longer, letting her get it out. It's impossible not to let his gaze drop to the briars, but he's careful not to touch them.]
To be honest, a lot of it is strange to me, too. It's not quite as bad, but some things... it's like they've been moved a little to the left. Like this room--there are artists who've used something similar in their exhibits, but those are all predetermined, like a set of paintings. It's not something anyone can do with a few little taps. [Except ToT is set in 2030 so they probably have rampant generative AI but we don't need to think about that hellscape.]
Here--can I show you something?
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You might be surprised...
[She's starting to suspect she's out of her element in more ways than one. He'd probably find her world all too simple once he knew what was at the heart of it.
Rosamund listens attentively. It helps, truly. Her breathing has evened out and she isn't sniffling as much anymore.]
That sounds nice. An artist would make good use of a thing like this.
[She nods at the query, waving him ahead.]
By all means.
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Anyway, he lifts his wrist, pulling up the I.R.I.S. display and angling it for her to see.]
See right here? If you move your hand like this... [He swipes horizontally--] and then tap this, right here, you can send a t--a letter. The other person should receive it right away. If something like this happens again, send one to me, okay? I'll come find you, wherever you are.
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She looks between his eyes, searching. Then smiles, giving his hand a tender squeeze.]
Thank you, Luke. That means so much to me.
And you do the same, okay? Anything you need. Anything at all.
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[He won't but she doesn't need to know that]