Imaginary Island Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imaginarymods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
imaginarynetwork2020-10-12 01:17 am
imaginarymods) wrote in imaginarynetwork2020-10-12 01:17 am
NEW DOCUMENT UPLOADED. OPEN FILE?
As a result of Sans and Sayori's investigation of KV, multiple videos are sent to each of the Reclaimers' bracers.
LUCRETIA.VID
The screen plays a recording of a memory.
Lucretia is standing, surrounded by group of folks in red robes. She herself is clad in a red robe, though the viewer can only infer this from Lucretia's own point of view. Most of the faces are unrecognizable to the Reclaimers, save a few select faces;
the face of the Elf woman in the umbrella that Sans, Wash, and McCree saw before, Barry Bluejeans, Davenport himself, and Maureen, Lucas Miller's mother. The other figures are an elf man that looks remarkably similar to the woman, a dwarf with an impressive beard, and an absolute hulk of a human man.
The elf woman reaches out to touch Lucretia's shoulder, and Lucretia looks at her. The woman's face is so kind as she addresses Lucretia's worry.
"This will work, you have to believe in me," she assures. "And if it doesn't— if dividing the Light of Creation into these relics doesn't work, then we will try your method.
But please, Lucretia. Just give this a chance. Believe in us."
The recording swaps.
Lucretia stands in front of a mirror— no, the mirror—, reaching forward.
"Please," she pleads, stifling a sob, voice riddled with anguish. "I need help. I need more time. I—
I can't do this without them.
Not again."
The recording ends.
LUP.VID
The elf woman sits across from the identical elf man she was with in the prior video. She's looking at her lap, though, only seeing the man's knees close to hers, like their limbs are a bridge between them that almost doesn't meet.
"You didn't mean for any of this to happen." He says to her.
"I know that. And I know it's good. Like, the Hunger's not here, and the hunger's worse than anything we've done. I just... I can't help but ask."
She looks the elf man across from her in the eye.
"Did we make the right decision?"
The elf man's brows knit together and he takes a breath.
"...Who knows if the shield would have worked. You know... sometimes, there aren't right decisions. Sometimes there's just decisions."
The recording ends.
CURSED.VID
From the perspective of someone nearby, you watch as the dwarf from the prior video is confronted by a hooded figure.
"Now, I don't know what you're talking about," comes his rough voice. "If you're hungry, well, the tavern just across the street has the most amazing-"
His voice is cut off as a hand reaches out from the robes and grasps the dwarf around the neck. The hand is made of black opal, and as black tendrils reach out to stab into the dwarf, the dwarf's own eyes turn black as well.
The recording swaps to the vision of a more recent Lucretia.
It's the Lucretia the Reclaimers recall, in her current age and current outfit, or at least what she wore regularly before candlenights.
The view remains concentrated on Lucretia, but passing as if unnoticed by the recording, a shock of black shoots up through Lucretia's staff very suddenly.
"Are you alright, Johann?" Lucretia asks, raising a brow, looking genuinely concerned.
The view shakes as if the person whose memory this is has shaken their head, slowly.
"It's nothing, m'am..."
The recording ends.
CANDLENIGHTS.VID
This memory seems to come from a shorter stature as well. IT's the Moon Base as it stood in Faerun, and a child's hand— Angus's hand— reaches out to push the door open. Anyone who has visited the Voidfish's chambers after hours may recognise the room he enters.
"Madame Director? Are you in here?" he calls out.
The memory patches in as if it's skipped a bit, and now the scene becomes more clear.
Lucretia stands in the middle of the room, hunched over herself, clutching her head with one hand and the staff with the other. Davenport stands at her side, and there are other Reclaimers— Reclaimers that may be recognized as a handful those who haven't appeared yet on the island— around, as well as some Seekers and guards.
"You have to leave," Lucretia demands, her voice cracking as if with pain.
"M'am, you have to listen to-"
"Now! There is no more time for listening!"
Lucretia shouts, her voice like venom. When she looks up, her eyes have turned completely black.
"I can't... I can't hold it back anymore,"
"Not without us!" Angus asserts. "You can-- let us help you!"
"You don't understand! There is no more hope! There is nothing! Even if you leave— this is the end!"
All of a sudden, thorns shoot out of Lucretia's staff, which has turned completely into black opal. The thorned vines that shoot from Lucretia's heart and staff are all that black opal material, too, and they shoot out in every direction, grasping and curling around everyone in the room, Reclaimers and Seekers alike. Even Angus is caught in the vines.
He catches Lucretia's face again, watching as it wrenches in despair, black eyes still crying real, human tears.
"I'm sorry," Lucretia chokes. "This is all I can do."
Even more tendrils extend, wrapping around Lucretia herself, consuming her, devouring her. Angus reaches out, but those vines are starting to consume everything around them as well. Outside of the dome, the sound of a storm begins to ring, amplifying the terror of the moment.
Angus reaches out, trying to free himself from the tendrils, reaching for the hand of a dragonborn woman before a thorny vine tears her away from him.
He loses his balance, tumbling down a few more branches, and when he's finally stopped tumbling he looks around to see a book has fallen out of his bag.
CALEB CLEVELAND AND THE IMAGINARY ISLAND, bears the book's title, but its cover is gilded and shining.
A voice completely unlike the voice heard on the island calls out directly from the book's pages; the voice of a Relic.
"Use me. Save yourself. Save everyone."
Angus reaches out and grabs the book.
The recording ends.
no subject
MAYBE YOU'LL REMEMBER A THING THAT WAY.
[Trying enjoyable things repeatedly hasn't proved the path to success in reclaiming memories for Papyrus (NYEH HEH HEH), but even if that part fails, at least Michael will have done something he enjoys. Win/win!]
no subject
I guess it's worth a shot
Next time there's some sort of dance party, I guess
[He's not just gonna do it by himself like an idiot.]
no subject
WE SHOULD HAVE A DANCE PARTY!
AFTER WE RESCUE EVERYONE, AND SAVE THE DAY.
[It's not the same as performing for an audience, but everyone will be so relieved and grateful that they'll celebrate twice as hard, won't they?]
no subject
[Since when? He hasn't signed up to save anybody.]
no subject
IF YOU'RE NOT DOING THAT...
YOU'RE FREE TO DO PARTY PREP!!!
[And if the other reclaimers are busy venturing in volcanoes and underwater tunnels and wherever, there's no oversight to keep Michael from making a really questionable one. But that's fine! It'll probably be fun!]
no subject
You don't even know any of those people, you're gonna get yourself killed for no reason
[Seriously!!! Why bother!!!]
no subject
THERE'S PLENTY OF REASON.
DOING A GOOD THING!
THE FAME AND FORTUNE OF SAVING THE WORLDS!
AND ALSO, I LIVE HERE??
[Theoretically he lived somewhere else, but it's been eaten, so it's probably not prime real estate anymore. So this is what he's got!!]
no subject
[Frankly, living here isn't that motivating to Michael; he doesn't like most of the experience of living here very much.]
no subject
ESPECIALLY WHEN I TELL EVERYBODY ABOUT WHAT WE DID.
[If they manage to use the Purging Dance in any of their rescue attempts, at the very least Lola will want to hear about it and brag on their behalf.]
no subject
[Well, he gets that! He just isn't sure who he'd tell, short of the people here. Having them all cheer for him in the coliseum was nice, he guesses...but he's not sure it's worth maybe-dying over.]
That's nice and all, but you could end up just getting killed, too.
no subject
I COULD... BUT I COULD END UP KILLED DOING NOTHING.
SO I MIGHT AS WELL RISK BEING KILLED,
TRYING TO NOT GET KILLED.
[Welcome again to Papyrus logic.]
no subject
Just don't do anything stupider than what you're already doing
[Vague sort of sentiment that he would rather not Papyrus die?]
no subject
TO DO MY STUPID THINGS VERY SMARTLY.
[What more heartfelt promise could anybody ever ask for?]