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๐ง๐ฉ๐ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐๐๐ญ
SLEEP
A manipulative enigma with grand presence and power within The Murmur that rivals that of a god, and many already treat Her as such. She is everywhere and nowhere at once. Call to her, and she may answer you. She may even treat you, if you treat her, but be prepared to sacrifice. Painful offerings and loyalty are her favorite gifts of devotion (She's also a hopeless romantic).
The Numerals and Espera seem to despise Her, and One is inexplicably bound to Her. What Sleep has disclosed about Her intentions seem quite simple: Collect more Vessels to host Her power, expand past the Earth She's tied to, and deliver them all from loneliness and prolonged suffering to a divine eutopia only She can create.
For that, She needs One.
The Numerals and Espera seem to despise Her, and One is inexplicably bound to Her. What Sleep has disclosed about Her intentions seem quite simple: Collect more Vessels to host Her power, expand past the Earth She's tied to, and deliver them all from loneliness and prolonged suffering to a divine eutopia only She can create.
For that, She needs One.
ONE
A somber, shy and elusive individual that better expresses himself through poetry and song. One's past is shrouded in mystery, tragedy and his own amnesia, but hinted to hold an incredible power that not even he is aware of. One has devoted his entirety to Sleep through blood sacrifice in an attempt to skew Her attention from the vessels to himself, but whether that was successful or not has yet to be known.
Vessels have been made recently aware that One has suffered Lunar Exaltation before the world was destroyed: An ascension, from mortal to more, and a beacon of power that remains the reason why Sleep seeks to claim him.
Vessels have been made recently aware that One has suffered Lunar Exaltation before the world was destroyed: An ascension, from mortal to more, and a beacon of power that remains the reason why Sleep seeks to claim him.
TWO
Not much is known about the Numeral Two, other than he is an expressive and unburdened Token, mute but not idle. He was very close to One before being thrown into a voided plane of existence by Sleep's hand, and scattered into fragments. Espera claims he is essential to returning One to his senses and putting an end to Sleep's reign.
Currently missing, but one fragment has been found.
Currently missing, but one fragment has been found.
THREE
An impish Offering of the Trickster variant, the Numeral Three has a playful disposition and colorful means of expression. Rather chaotic but not malicious, he takes the form of three-eyed corvids, cacatuas, and foxes with frequency, while answering riddles fuels his permanance for brief bursts. His connection with the Waking World is stronger than Two's, but in no less need of mending.
Currently his appearances are unreliable; He may be seen in shared dreams or when he has enough power to solidify from the Void's realm.
Currently his appearances are unreliable; He may be seen in shared dreams or when he has enough power to solidify from the Void's realm.
FOUR
The first Numeral to vanish and the last to be found. Not much is known about Four, other than having a very strong connection with Three.
Currently missing.
Currently missing.
ESPERA
Revealed to be Nymphai, The Espera were birthed from One's exaltation and were meant to guide him on his journey from mortal to more before being barred by Sleep. She, (or they), is (are) a singular entity of three bodies, which are missing in a similar manner to the Numerals.
She has a stronger presence within the Murmur but too weak to manifest physically, and is always watching to aid the Vessels in any way she can.
NAME5
PB NAME
PB NAME
Info Five Here
ROLL: 11
one is highly emotional, some may find. perhaps even too much of it.
in turn, when this vessel sings, one is always there to listen, like audience pinged by a single strum reaching for him. he grabs back, almost with even, perhaps, a certain amount of desperation. music is the only language one knows with proficiency— it is his highest form of expression, and consequently, connection. he harmonizes when it is his song, perfectly. it may take a few tries, but one is a quick learner: he hums jaskier's own tunes to accompany him. varying tones, keeping the pace set.
one creeps out of his shell faster than if someone were to reach out to him with direct questions. jaskier has opened a window, and from it, one plays the keys of an old, creaking piano with faulty keys. any song. any at all.
please, don't leave. please stay. ]
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Harmonizing with One, even if it takes a few tries, is also a delight. Even if he's traditionally a soloist and a ham at that, Jaskier's been a teacher before so he has had experience with learning these things. Adjusting pitch to see that they both shine, the matching melodies.
Darling, where would I go?
The response would warrant sarcasm under other circumstances, given he's at that moment looking out across one of those many impossibly wide rivers that surround this island he's found himself on. One's raw vulnerability has Jaskier feeling protective of that fragile heart however, and he makes sure its only gentle amusement.
Thank you for singing with me. It's been a treasure. ]
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Wait— [ as if worried that the gratitude was a signal of leaving, once more, one frets. ] Please.
[ he trails the keys of the grand piano, rusty but still working, running from low to high notes, to low once more. ]
Will you show me one more?
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Certainly, Darling. Is that - [ He tries to place the notes, the instrument's poor status and Jaskier's still limited worldview making it difficult to place. ] a ... harpsichord?
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[ he does another slow runโ and starts up the beginning of his song once more. three simple notes, that sone turn into six. ]
Time and decay have withered the keys. [ it is a breath of fresh air, to not have to speak about things that are difficult for him. he continues babbling, softspoken, but encouraged. ] I have not taken care of it.
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A little love and time can bring a lot back from the brink, especially with instruments.
[ He doesn't have his lute to play anymore, the gift from Filavandrel. It was a beautiful masterwork that had been with Jaskier half his life before it met its untimely end with intentional destruction at the hands of firefucker.
But he's held it so many times, so often, knew it like he knew his own body, its easy to conjure the nores it would play in his mind, how it would sound if he could play it to accompany One's careful feeling of the notes. ]
I had a lute back home - it was destroyed before I came here, but it made the most beautiful sounds and held up for decades. Probably would have lasted the rest of my life if circumstances hadn't taken it from me. I've yet to find another here, but I'm still looking.
[ He continues to turn the pick in his hand, idle movements that he'd do if he was playing one for real, the muscle memory coming out without conscious thought. ]
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. . . ]
Would you follow me?
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So, a smart man would probably refuse. Jaskier isn't dumb, but he has his moments when a cause shines for him. Or at least ask if One means to a specific place or for a cause. ]
Where will we be going, Dear?
[ well. It works for both, and Jaskier is at least interested. ]
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To find a Lute, [ and after a pause, ] If . . . You would like.
[ it comes with the impression that he is quite okay with the stranger not being alright with that. usually one thinks no one ever is, or at the very least everyone is better off without his presence. ]
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Yes!
[ He considers some of the strange transformations he's seen people here having gone through. Would that happen to him if he follows One?
...
It'd be worth it.
(Honestly if One just said "idk for a walk" Jaskier still probably would have been in.) ]
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it's been so long since met with someone in person. he barely remembers the time. solitude has eaten him dry. one is both nervous as he is . . . just a touch needy, now that he's seen the light. ]
Would you stay where you are?
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[ He still tries to send the clearest image he can of where he is, what he can see from there, in the hopes that One is more familiar with this place than he is. Standing, he pats his trousers off of the various dust and dirt but waits where he is.
And hey, maybe he's very hopeful about meeting another musician, too. ]
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[ he knows how to use the murmur wellโ as long as they keep a connection, one can follow that path to him like following a string. he sees one, in his mind's eye. a thread of gold.
and wherever jaskier may be, soon, a man will come to him. one is a tall, lanky thing, his arms and bare chest covered in the smudge of black inks, a long black cloak with a hood that obscures most of his face. what isn't obscured is covered in a white mask, catching the top of his lip and going up. six eye holes sit one above the other in total, and a blood red trail of markings line the mask's edges, dragging over the eyes.
he's just kind of ๐ง ]
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And, alright, when the dark hooded figure shows up, yeah, he jumps with a startled surprise. But he recovers quickly, and Jaskier's own smile is plenty genuine as well as clear below his own mask. ]
Oh, I have seen you before, in that dream right before I arrived here. I didn't realize. Still, a pleasure to meet you face to face, friend. I'm Jaskier.
[ Even know a hand goes up first as if to adjust a strap holding a lute across his shoulder before - ah, right, not there. He holds a hand out in greeting instead. ]
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he doesn't, for the record, take the hand. there is only a very long stare at it, then at the floor. he has difficulty keeping eye contact. after what feels like too long of a pause, the hooded man begins to turn, and murmurs, quietly: ]
One.
[ one turns his back— and begins to walk, but he will eventually stop to glance behind him to make sure jaskier follows, before continuing on his way. ]
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Still friendlier than Geralt.
He does indeed follow after, doing a light jog to catch up proper so he can fall into step mostly beside but slightly behind One, the traditional position of 'we buddies but you know where you're going while I do not'. ]
One! Are you from here, then, or someplace like this? I daresay cities are not quite so big where I'm from, many of these are larger than the castles...
[... So while Jaskier will give polite pauses should One want to contribute or comment or tell Jaskier to quiet down, Jaskier is perfectly happy to ramble without input from One as well. He's carried plenty of conversations one-sided, with pauses as well for humming various melodies depending on how long walk is. He IS watching where they're going though, regularly looking over to make sure he hasn't lost One. ]
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[ luckily or perhaps easily enough, jaskier may quickly tell that one's lengthy pauses or silent treatment, followed by nods or ducks of the head alond, comes from an apprehension birthed from a deathly amount of social awkwardness, rather than bitterness, upset or disdain. one hasn't been around people for an amount of time he hasn't been keeping track of. it was long enough.
. . . the city falls into a very different sort of silence, when jaskier begins to hum on occassion. it's eerie. it's as if everything stops breathing, just to listen. birds stop singing, insects stop buzzing. the breeze halts. plants face him. the weight of the sun shines upon him like stagelight. one keeps walking of course, ducking or stepping over overgrowth. but he does listen.
oh, does he.
eventually, he slows, right in front of a shop with cracked windows and dustcaked counters. there's nothing out on display, someone has seemingly moved everything. put them away. but, one seems to know what he is doing when he steps in, mindful of glass shards or debris.
he makes a beeline for a plethora of containers behind an employees only sign, all of them suspiciously shaped like guitars. ]
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It's the point of no return
After everything we did, we saw
You turned your back on me
What for d'you yearn?
It's Jaskier's most recent 'hit' and on his mind, even if it makes his fingers feel warm as he taps the rhythm against his trousers as he hums it.
Burn, butcher, burn.
He quiets when they approach the shop, careful of the broken glass, stepping lightly even as it crunches too loud underfoot. He's done worse in these boots.
There's a tension that stills his tongue even as the audience spike of hope rises to see the instrument cases. ]
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this case, one open only halfway after he realizes what's inside. carefully, he snaps the buckles closed, runs his palm over the top of the case to remove the dustโ and silently hands it over, with only a small nod. the case is scuffed, the clasps rustedโ but inside . . .
jaskier will find a lute rests in a sagging nest of faded velvet, the color long bled to a dull brown. its shape has held against time, but theย soundboard bears a thin crack running from the bridge toward the edge. theย neck is straight enough, though a little warped near the head. five of its seven strings remain.ย two have snapped, their broken ends curled and rust-bitten, while the survivors lie slack and discolored, clinging to the tuning pegs like threads of a spider's web. theย pegs themselves are a little stiff, one missing its knob entirely, and another turns too easily, stripped of its grip.
still, when brushed by a finger, one of the lower strings humsโ weak, but clear enough to prove it's alive. ]
A . . . Little love, and time can bring it back from the brink.
[ those words have seemed to..... touch him. deeply.
he has much to think about. ]
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Even saying 'it's not in the best shape' may be generous, but for as much as Jaskier often acted like the reason his last lute lasted so long was the quality of the original work, he'd kept it in shape throughout the years. Building a lute from scratch was beyond him, but repairs, even as extensive as these?
A little love and time. He can do that.
He closes the case, still with the same reverence as before - and then even as he hugs it against his chest, he throws his free arm around One to pull him into an embrace as well. ]
Thank you. Thank you.
[ The words don't feel like enough for a gift such as this, so he tries to get them rest of that gratitude through with the fierceness of the embrace. ]
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one goes perfectly still. stone quiet. frozen, his arms hover, not knowing what to do with them and feeling too out of place to comfortably give some sort of embrace in return. that has . . . that has been an even longer time, he feels. the most he manages the most awkward set of taps before being the first to attempt to peel away.
his heart is rapid firing. he doesn't know what to say, other than wishing to flee the situation for lack of anything substancial to offer. just awkwardness and ungracefulness and, well, no one wants that.
would a nod be okay? nodding it is, hiding his masked face under his hood all the while. ]
I only shortened the path.
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A nod is perfectly serviceable.]
Take the gratitude, it's freely given.
[ The chiding is still all warmth and happiness- but gentler than he'd use with someone else, too. ]
If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, please don't hesitate. I hope you'll listen when I manage to get this fixed up again, too.
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it goes without saying that one will not ask for a single thing for the very same reasons, but, at that last part . . . he can, at least, nod to that, now incredibly soft spoken: ]
I will.
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Thank you, dear friend. Can I - see you back somewhere safely?
[ He did kind of appear out of nowhere it felt like, and while Jaskier isn't exactly a heavy he's done enough traveling to know that sometimes just being two people instead of one means trouble passes you over. Something about One just seems so terrible fragile Jaskier wants to see it safe, too. ]
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No, [ he pulls his hood tighter, as if it would hide him. ] No, I . . .
[ it is beginning to make him anxious, all of this. wanting to stay is what scares him. being too much for him, overstimulating of all, is what pulls him the other way. he gestures for jaskier to stay where he is, a steady hand as he backs away to the door. ]
You will be safer apart from me.
[ and, he makes his way out, with haste. out the door, down the street— if jaskier follows, he would not find him again. but he would be remembered. one will be sure to listen to his songs. ]
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