[open] Fourth Wall 2

[theearth]

Who: EVERYONE including visitors
What: This is the second general post for the fourth wall. This post is for network posts/conversations, logs and every other possible interaction, and visitors can top-level.
When: 3rd and 4th of January
Where: Everywhere inside the five echo boundaries.
Warnings: Please warn in the subject line of your threads if anything comes up!

Fourth Wall OOC information! As a reminder: Visitors may tag all posts tagged "-fourth wall" that are posted on savetheearth.

Special things happening on the 3rd and 4th:
- 3rd, Lapland: There's a snowmobile race north of Rovaniemi and someone that totally isn't an alien, why would you think so signed up a good number of people that all happen to have numbers. One of them is you, which you learn through receiving your participant data through mail/letter/text/whatever applies. Will you take up the challenge?
- 4th, all locations: Something is off. Numbered will find themselves teleported to random places within the echo boundaries - perhaps you are now in the middle of dark, snowy Lapland, or in the heat of the Australian jungle? In a casino in Las Vegas or a castle in Germany? Or in your friend's shower in Locke?

Prior "-fourth wall" posts:
First general post
Winter's post

Comments

[espigeonage]

Fuck! [Julien beats his wings - whoomph, whoomph! - in instinctive panic, lifting up a foot off the gold and scrabbling as he touches back down. Too dark! The ground is cold and slippery!]

[disdainfully]

[Light engulfs Julien after he has struggled for a bit, and the heavy boots against he precious metals announce another person approaching. Someone holds a high power flashlight, like the police uses, trained at him.]

[espigeonage]

[Julien extends his wings out at his sides, open, enormous primary feathers parted and touching the ground, tail fanned. At the heavy footsteps the contour feathers on his wings and back raise and fluff - he instinctually makes himself look bigger and rougher, completely counter to how he likes to appear to normal people.

Ow. His eyes adjust instantly so they seem silver-blue, with barely-visible pinpricks for pupils. He adjusts further by closing sepia-tinted inner eyelids, and squinting with his outer ones. After a second the raised feathers start to flatten back down.]

Thorir?

[disdainfully]

You. [Thorir's eyes narrow. Julien might have been close to his heart before, he trusted him - but Julien has spoken of opening the mountain to others, giving away parts of it, withdrawing, giving it up giving away his mountain and Thorir marches down the mountain of gold towards the bird, fury in his voice.] Have you come to lead them here? Or only to find the best path to lead them to this place? I know that you won't respect my property, that it means nothing to you that this is Dwarf gold. So where are you in giving it away?

[espigeonage]

Excuse me? [Taken aback, he has to fight to keep from sounding mocking. This is ridiculous.] Where did that come from?

[Julien makes a show of looking around, though he basically can't see; he makes an estimate based on Thorir's accusation, the feel under his feet, the sound of the place. Under the light his feathers are almost blindingly white, he practically glows and looks the stranger for the surroundings.] This would do really stupid things to the economy. Why would I want that?

[disdainfully]

[There is no humour in Thorir's laugh, which resembles a snort more than an actual laugh, and as he comes over and his arms swings a bit, Julien will see that his second hand rests on the hilt of a sword.] You spoke of opening this mountain to everyone before. You told me to hand it over without a fight. Is that not so?

[espigeonage]

So you jump from that to - are you threatening me?

[Spotlit and all but blinded he shrinks back, knocking over a set of scales, then stops as the Apostle's calm-in-emergencies floods him. He can't retreat and the idea of dissembling and oh-I'd-never-ing and pleading over something this stupid from someone he's supposed to be able to trust is maddening, even through the calm.

In another time, in another place, the Apostle had stood in the dark and faced a King far more horrible than this darkly comic figure, who he thinks is probably in a sweater. Julien is unlike the Apostle in most ways, but remembering that, does he really have to grovel? Are you going to do what he says just because he's the king?

So he stops, and stands taller, wings opening wider. He'd intended to frown but, just for a moment, it seems like he's somehow forgotten how to move the muscles in his face for that; instead his expression lapses from panic to a smooth mask with a suggestion of a smile.]

Really, Thorir? You know when you said I might have to learn to fight, I didn't imagine this.

[disdainfully]

[A sweater, jeans and a crown that seems to be the only thing in place at the scene - and at the same time completely out of place. He's certainly badly assembled.

Thorir grinds his teeth, his jaw set firmly, his voice darker and harsher, an unfamiliar accent very pronounced in his words. He doesn't quite seem to be listening to Julien (in truth, he is willfully dragging his attention away from him, hoping against hope that Julien will be gone when he turns back) and turns around slowly, the light wandering over the gold hoard around them, precious metals and stones glinting in the bright light of the lamp.]

I will find a way to stop their machines if they get through the stone. There are ways to do that, and if all else doesn't help, a stop will have to be put to the building efforts. Or perhaps the treasure will have to be moved to another place, where they won't find it... yes. It must be moved.

...a fight. Yes, a fight will have to happen if they come in and find this. If they come in at all. But this will be safe from them.

[espigeonage]

[Julien would much prefer to be gone, but when it's this dark he may as well be cornered. Wings have a plus when it comes to feeling around: he can check his footing before he takes a step and mostly keep from smacking into things and impaling his feet on sharp objects. But that is not silent, or fast, and the idea of trying to find his way in the mountain without a light is disturbing. He strains to look around while Thorir takes the light off him and rambles and talks to himself like a madman. Honestly, when there's this much gold and glittery stuff it just looks tawdry and fake to him.

...was that one of those creepy dimensional portal things up there? I have no idea what those look like. It was. He hates that place, but he'd take it over Thorir's new willingness to threaten him and his own unwillingness to take that. Julien can fly, but not well or strongly. It's a good ways up. In this still air, can he reach it? The junk here, he can better tell now, is unevenly heaped higher in places, like dunes. He got a glimpse of the topography and it's a way out - before he's consciously decided he bolts, trying to move fast enough to make up for the terrible footing, beating his wings to help him scale the incline and adjust to missteps.

It's not subtle. Metal rings and clatters under his feet. The powerful sweep of his wings is a force as physical as a shove. Something terribly sharp pierces his toe in the soft spot under the claw and he gasps, but then he's at the top of the slope, causing a little avalanche by leaping off a decorated chest and shoving it down the slope, and adding a burst of wingbeats to his momentum. The sound of his wings is deep and almost musical as they claw through the air and force it under him.

He accidentally picked up a heavy circlet while climbing, it got around one of his toes. Julien shakes it off and it falls with a few drops of blood; the jeweled comb has penetrated the skin and stuck there. Laboriously he climbs, feeling and fearing the limit of his ability. It's so close! His limits are in the power of his wings, not his breath, so, rattled and feeling betrayed, he can shout-]

You know I'd never come here willingly without a light, damn you!

[In another couple of seconds he'll be through.]

[disdainfully]

[Thorir simply watches him, his mind stuck on thoughts of how to secure the hoard, how to make sure that none but himself will know where it is, how to secure it against traitors...

He doesn't even look at Julien as he leaves.]