[center][h1]Dreaming Together With You[/h1]
[h3][url=https://youtu.be/FP4duz43t_A]Act 0.5-2: Midnight[/url][/h3][/center]
[@SilverPaw]
[hider=Note from the GM]
[sub][i]Do not worry yourself over creating a full on performance before this. You get the kudos just for having had the idea, and do not lose any love if you find it daunting to follow up directly on the pseudo-challenge issued by the Fontaine's; abstract is more than welcome if you feel obligated to do so anyway.[/i][/sub][/hider]

Across all the festival grounds, the sound of a gong reverberates. Twice. Thrice. The traditional drums then strike into a steady rhythm, signaling the beginning of the Sealing Ceremony and for the townsfolk to gather at the edge of Lake Chartreuse. The entirety of the town moves as one, ending other performances and activities temporarily to address this particularly anticipated event.

Even the Bilica children dare not to refuse this sacred beckoning, the tall figure of Weasel unmistakable in the crowd as he makes room for his family at the water's edge by the dock. Simeon, Raphael, Gavriel, and Odaya are all seen- with Odaya in particular splashing in the waters, still wearing Damon's jacket about her shoulders. The Fontaines and Hoar family stand at the dock's mouth, with the monolithic and hunched figure of Stoat Bilica standing with them. The three entities, when gathered together thus, radiate across the townsfolk an almost mystical sense of ancient belonging. The deep roots of the Bilica giving rise to the firm and powerful trunk of the Hoar, whose branches weave and form the intricacies of Fontaine; the living lineage of New Hope represented in three families.

The Fontaines, dwindling as they are, a sight of tradition and beauty; Sybille radiant at the side of Minoru, their hands entwined, who is himself dressed regally in the ancient robes of the Shrine.

The Hoar family, beaming with pride and warmth. The patriarch shaking Stoat's hand, while the wife looks around the gathered crowd- then soon waves to Rowan, gesturing for Stig to be brought forth.

Stoat Bilica, standing alone- but with his flock nearby. Hunched, gray, wrinkled, and every bit the scrooge. When his hand retracts from the Hoar Father's grasp, he produces a kerchief and wipes at his palms hastily. With whatever business they had quietly had dealt with, Stoat thumps his cane heavily upon the dock and- with a startling, deafening, cracking noise that ripples up his spine- straightens his back steadily until he is at his full height. A head taller than the Hoar family at his side. When he speaks, his voice carries over the calm waters and quiet crowd with equal, trembling, fervor as he raises a fist into the air;

[u][b]"Let the sealing commence!"[/b][/u]

With one last imposing slam of his cane, three hundred lanterns lit  nearly simultaneously. A few flickered and died, then relit, whilst others seemed to ignite in a benign delay. The end result was the same nonetheless; the lakeside, fully ringing Lake Chartreuse, was aglow with the lanterns tirelessly produced by the townsfolk. They began to drift inwards idly from their launching points, floating idyllic upon the lake's surface. As the lanterns began their path, the Fontaines began theirs.

Hand in hand, the duo calmly walked along the dock. Their hands had parted only to lift the Old Bell in their mutual grasp, and their silent footfalls seemed to scarcely even make the boards of the dock tremble. A breeze blows, ruffling the robes of the pair and whispering through the crowd. Such innocent steps seeming to carry such impossible weight. They lift the bell and pass it forth.

Young Freyja Hoar, dressed in the striking uniform of the [i]Miko[/i], the Shrine Maiden of Fontaine heritage, lifted the bell effortlessly in her arms. Her hair was intricately braided, and she wore no makeup. If not for her glasses, white hair, and everyone knowing it was she who was chosen for the task the alterations to her appearance would be mildly stunning; gone was the wild haired tomboy with younger brother on her hip, and here was this visage of spiritual energy and town hope. Freyja raised the bell up, presenting it to the townsfolk on the shore, then stepped backwards while bowing to the Fontaines onto the raft. Fisherfolk in dark attire gently pushed the raft away from the dock, causing it to drift inwards towards the reflection of the full moon which dominated the center of the lake.

It was a beautiful illusion; the stars twinkling on the glass-like surface of the lake whilst the lanterns flowed between them and created the sensation of fires in the heavens. Freyja carefully moved on the raft, rising onto its central platform to deposit the Old Bell upon the pedestal before the elegant tapestry of the Ceremony, suspended below the stylized arches of the Moon. Then, with practiced steps, Freyja performed the dance as the sound of the drums intensified and beat into a heart-like rhythm on the shores. The sensation of the drums would fill the crowd. Would fill each of you, Freyja's visage twirling and dancing along the raft in time with each major beat.

At last, with each drum striking in unison, Freyja landed upon the raised platform and suddenly struck the bell. The thud of the drums faded into the powerful ringing of the ancient bell.

Something happened in that instance.

The waters of the lake rippled outward from the Raft, as if originating from that very strike. The lake's surface changed in the wake of this ripple. AS the ripple expanded and surged lanterns into a wobble, the brightness of the moon within the lake seemed to intensify beneath the raft. As the radius expanded, the brightness flickered and dazzled; colors shifted and changed; fireworks beneath the surface of the lake. Each lantern the center of a wondrous explosion of light and color, a strangeness that made the true night sky above seem tame and boring by comparison.

The ripple hit the shore, and that is when the second strange thing occured;

You all were moving, gazing, listening- but the entirety of the town stood frozen, as if a movie had been paused. Young Stig, in mother's arms, grasping at her hair as a statue of life; Gavriel and Simeon Bilica secreting themselves on their phones, the light blazing into their faces plain and obvious; Weasel, frozen, rigid, eyes locked on Freyja Hoar; Odaya-

Odaya was moving. She stood at the water's edge, gazing into the lake, with an incredulous face.

At the lake's center, Freyja stood in the frozenness of shock rather than the supernatural immobility of the town.

And all of you, free to move and speak as you see fit as the display of lights and colors erupts within the lake's surface yet again.

Freyja lets out a cry, and suddenly strikes the bell again in a panic. The sound echoes outwards- then the lake's surface surges upwards and swallows the raft. Swallows Freyja Hoar whole. The surging column of water rises upwards as a single column- and those of you who paid attention to such things would note its likeness to the very tapestry on the raft of the ceremony, a pillar rising upwards from below.

The raft, and Freyja, are seen within the column of water gently floating downwards through the column- and into the lake itself. The Column pulses, the fireworks below filling upwards into this pillar of water and creating an almost holographic rendition of the colorful cascade within. The lights flare outwards, intense and bright- far more intense than any fireworks you all had seen prior. The lights are so dazzling that it is as if a rainbow disco ball has exploded in the center of Lake Chartreuse and paints the town and surrounding landscape in its colorations.

Then the water vibrates, and the Song is heard. A song that fills each and every one of you with longing. A song of beckoning.

[sub][b]Detail note for those who wish to make use of it, which is by no means required; Those who are attracted to women hear a girl's voice, those who are attracted to men hear a boy's voice, those attracted to both or neither hear a chorus of both, and those with indeterminate preferences do not hear a voice- rather the meaning flows into your minds with the tones of music. The approximate ages of the voices are similar to your own. This has no bearing on the game, just an added detail which may come up later.[/b][/sub]

[i]Harken all ye to whom mine voice doth reach,
Let it carry far, to all whom the Song may teach.
Tarry not long for the hour is nigh
Tarry not long, thou belongst at mine side.

The Song doth beckon over many a shore,
And to mine side it brings,
Companions boon for mine heart is sore,
On this eve in Yo'Bikur.

Peace hast reigned for ten-long score,
O, how the world doth Sing!
May the years pass for-e'er more,
On this eve in Yo'Bikur![/i]

Odaya Bilica trembles at the water's edge and takes a step back, hesitant and fearful of the situation at pure instinct alone- but at the song's mystical emanation her eyes widen and she reverses her trajectory. She takes a step forward, towards the lake-

And the pillar of water suddenly writhes, as if alive, and coils in the air in a serpentine manner. It arcs through the air, weaving in on itself in a pretzel-esque manner, before tendrils of the water begin to reach outwards as the body of the 'creature' continues its elegant display. As light explodes within its body, the fireworks now cascading down to a sight- a city- a [b]city?[/b] within the lake's surface, reflected in fractals and odd angles within the watery beast's body. A tendril weaves through the air with an elegance and gentleness and suddenly splashes down over Odaya.

The girl is seemingly pulled upwards into the arc of the tendril, almost as if going up a strange waterslide in reverse, but she breaks out of the surface and yells out before being submerged once again;

"Zeke!-" She cries out- which seems to shatter whatever mystical hold the situation had over Weasel. Weasel suddenly animates, surging to his feet- and without even a moment of hesitation he sprints along the dock and dives headfirst into the waters at the same time that Odaya is seen falling into the writhing creature's body.

[b]This is your time to shine, kiddos; do you willingly accept the beckoning of the song and the wonders displayed within the lake, or does your character end up scooped by the seemingly sentient magical water thrumming with an angelic voice? Unfortunately participation is mandatory, so if you try to flee the water will catch you and into the lake you will go; the experience will be trippy, mind boggling, and sensate-overload.

During this transition, being swallowed whole by Song and transported through water, is when your characters will experience their physical changes; those of you who wish to wait to express this change will instead find that your character's skin glows from within, as if a flashlight emanates beneath their flesh, but rather than the eerie sight of veins and blood-red skin, they glow as if filled with stars and constellations within their flesh as their bodies await the preparedness of their minds to express their true selves.

The Song is truly magical and beckoning, to stress this; however hesitant, fearful, or angry your characters may be, they begrudgingly or otherwise will come to acknowledge- perhaps even as they're being swallowed by the waters- that they did actually want to get closer to that/those voices/music anyway. Compulsion, perhaps, is a good word for it. Resistance is possible; avoidance is not.[/b]

[hr]

[center][h3]Yo'Bikur, the City of Xaktin[/h3]
[img]https://i73.servimg.com/u/f73/16/77/80/76/yo_bik10.jpg[/img]
[sub]This one was by me![/sub]
[/center]

You all awaken suddenly and energetically. The air you breath tastes fresher than any air you've ever breathed before; the water that falls from your faces and hair tastes sweeter than any drink. The sky above you is aglow with fireworks spectacular and wonderful. Colors you did not even know existed weave into patterns between greens and blues, their intricacies fading as quickly as they appeared into ash and smoke. Illustrious is a good word for it. A chorus of voices rises and falls seemingly in response to the mystical Song that flows through this place. The same Song that beckoned you all here, that wondrous voice/sound and their meanings filling you even as you come to your senses.

You all are emerging from a pool of water upon a floating island precipice; this island is lush, thick trees growing and interconnected by vines. Their branches tangle together and weave into thick platforms which link together to form an arced bridge away from the pool. The height of this island is dizzying, the spring you all emerged from seeming to feed into a myriad spider-web of streams which flow naturally outwards and cascade into a misting waterfall at all edges of the small island. You are not alone here, however.

Freyja Hoar lays nearby, breathing shallowly as she lays half-within and half-without the pool of water. The raft is nowhere to be seen, nor is the Old Bell. Her glasses lay half-embedded in the bank at her side, in-tact miraculously. Protruding from her head are a pair of antlers, impressive and elegant- but also curved and pointed, like that of a buck-deer. Her legs are longer, and come to cloven feet as white fur rises up her calves and disappears into the concealment of her Shrine Maiden uniform.

[hider=Freyja Hoar]
[img]https://i73.servimg.com/u/f73/16/77/80/76/freyja11.jpg[/img]
[/hider]

Odaya is nearby- and whilst she seems well and whole, unhindered or troubled by the experience, she stares upwards and cries out in amazement;

"Do you see that?" She points skyward- her head no longer adorned by her black hair, but rather an array of sleek black feathers that are a black so dark they almost appear purple. Her eyes are lined in a violet hue of skin, and the typically blood-red eyes appear so much more deep and full of color than they usually do. This feathery visage cascades down her neck and shoulders, but her arms and the rest of her body appear to be ordinary. As ordinary as Odaya ever was.

[hider=Odaya Bilica]
[img]https://i73.servimg.com/u/f73/16/77/80/76/odaya_11.jpg[/img]
[/hider]

Those who follow her pointing finger skyward witness a series of flaming bursts in the sky, separate from the fireworks display; indeed, the blasts of flame almost seem to clear a space in the sky, the coiling wreath of flame forming a circle that repels the interference of the fireworks. A deeper flame, a blue heat, fills the ring of red- then from its center emerges a black figure, massive beyond compare, whose wings flap once and clear the skies of all ash and celebration. Cheers rise from the strange city- itself a wonder beyond comprehension at this time, incalculable floating islands like the very one you all inhabit now with their own arcing wooden bridges connecting them to the main topography of the city.

The wings flap- and all sound is driven from your ears save for the voices/sound of the Song. The buffet of wind almost threatens to knock Odaya over- and if not for the powerful arm of Weasel catching her at her back, she would have surely tumbled. Weasel looks... stunned. Weak, perhaps, as he gasps for breath. Fur lines his neck and face, and thickly courses down his arms. His own visage, so very unlike Odaya's, was ape-like; the white and red furs giving him a striking, aggressive, persona. He struggles for breath, as if under a great pressure, but even in his panic and struggle he catches Odaya and keeps her standing.

[hider=Weasel]
[img]https://i73.servimg.com/u/f73/16/77/80/76/weasel11.jpg[/img]
[/hider]

The creature that you have no name for save 'Dragon' flaps again, its buffeting wings being met by the rising cheers once more from the city- then it alights, one great leg resting upon the distant island adjacent from y'all's, and the other three grasping about the city. The Song persists, beckoning, calling, summoning-

Summoning [i]you[/i].

The Dragon rests its head upon the distant roof of an elaborate structure that must be a Palace of some sort, and as its rests the fireworks surge heavenward once more; the sky above this obsidian behemoth raining ashes and sparks down upon its scales in a manner that does not seem to bother the creature whatsoever. Its eyes close, its breathing stills, and it seems to rest as the Song swells in the air. The chorus of cheers returns to being a chorus of sung responses; hundreds, thousands, of voices crying out in rhythm and jubilation to this sweet, unerring, beckoning Song.

When you all are ready to proceed, a slender man stands at the far end of your bridge. He has an effeminate bearing, gentle features, and a shock of red hair that is intricately braided to fall down to his waist in a regal manner. His eyes are a dull green, like an emerald in the rough, but his complexion is flawed only by the vine-like scar that wraps down his jaw and neck. His throat bears a strange symbol, almost like a collar which is only disrupted by this scar, which seems aglow on this evening in a gentle golden light. His attire is that of fine black robes, overtop well worn and traveled hempen trousers and a tunic of grey. He almost appeared ordinary, if it were not for his uncanny thin-ness and immense height- he stood easily a head taller than even Ambrose, but possessed a fraction of his bulk. His bearing was one of a patient mirth, and those of you whose perceptions excelled beyond the norm may even notice the subtlety of his long, fanged, teeth. He would seemingly stand there, waiting an eternity for your approach if he must.

You could always jump off the side of the island instead, but the fall seemed dizzying and the mist obscured any sightlines of what came below. It was, truly, an ethereal circumstance.