ercookies | TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

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TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

Arrival

This time, you come out of the water. While the Augur reboots, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy draws people in. It's like being suspended between realities and walking through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you and carrying you to shore.

Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. Feel the friendship!

Recent arrivals and visitors to the beach may notice a sudden influx of hundreds of bright red crustaceans crawling (and coupling) across the sand. It's crab mating season, as it turns out, it's a regular invasion! To keep the beach a pleasant place to gather for the island's inhabitants, the robots are offering credits to especially enterprising crab-catchers. Grab a bucket and get to work! Be sure to watch out for their pinch, mind you. Their little claws are tiny, but that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

Surprisingly, there is another effect that even the robots don't anticipate: islanders who are pinched by the crabs find themselves feeling instantly buddy-buddy with the next person they spot. Did you just become best friends?! Get pinched one too many times, however, and those feelings may sour into a crabby mood, indeed.

If you are feeling particularly vengeful (or just hungry), the little crabs do make for delicious gumbo. Once cooked, they have no side effects whatsoever.

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II. Phallus Phestival

Although the Augur is offline and supplies are scarce, the robots of Erku are still eager to make their run-down little island a welcoming place for the new arrivals. To that end, they have arranged a three day festival to boost morale and promote the generation of plenty of Eros energy to assist in the restoration of the damaged and decayed parts of the city. The robots claim that this celebration was once a cornerstone of the long-lost civilization of the island. By the dawn of the first day, every island resident will find at their doorstep (or tent flap, mobile suit, etc) the traditional costume of the ancient islanders to wear to the festival. It appears to be... a giant sheet? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the sometimes garish colors and patterns of the fabric, but at least the robots have uploaded instructions on how to wear it to your bracelet device.

Attendees will find food (mostly crab-flavored), confections, and household necessities in rather suggestive shapes, as well as goods you might find handy to complete your A5 squares: sex toys, pervertibles, sexy maid outfits, and the like. While islanders are welcome to set up shop on the festival grounds and sell (or charge) whatever they like, all items from the robots are offered up for free to those who wear their traditional island garb!

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III. Fireside Adventures

Each night of the festival is wrapped up in style with an enormous bonfire on the beach, where drinks, fruity cocktails, and lively music appropriate for dancing is all provided at no cost by the robots. Even if you’re not usually much of a dancer, the longer you stand by the fire and allow it to warm your limbs, the more you feel like moving! Not only that, but everyone is looking quite beautiful by the firelight, are they not?

If you’ve grown tired - or if dancing just isn’t your thing - you might prefer to sit back and swap stories on one of the many driftwood log benches the robots have prepared for seating. Or, maybe you’d prefer to rough it for the night in one of the beachside canvas tents. Better claim one quick, though, or be prepared to share… there’s only one sleeping bag!

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N A V I G A T I O N

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah! See?

[Someone else might feel a twinge of pity, or exasperation, or a dozen other perfectly reasonable emotions, but Lys' face betrays nothing but earnest pride as she tilts the half-filled bucket to let Ema see the crabs inside. After all, even though diving face-first into the sand might not be her chosen method, there's no arguing with results!

.....scientifically speaking.]

One more go should do it!

[and then maybe ema can eat something besides uhhhhhh shit]

[ i would be scandalized if that weren't so true

Ema shovels a last crab into the bucket, a satisfied smile finally gracing her expression. She's dusty and sweaty, but it's a job well(?) done, and so her frustration evaporates all at once. ]

There! All done.

[ Ema settles her hand on her hip and looks up at her random helper who, now that Ema's really looking at her, really is quite tall. ]

Good work. You were a big help, miss...?

[Looking down to make eye contact comes as naturally as breathing — the curse of having height in spades at the expense of, oh, so many other things — but she tries not to be obvious about it, slouching a bit to soften the difference between them. Smiles, huge and wide and stupidly bright, at the satisfied look on Ema's face. The sudden and welcome absence of frustration, like clouds clearing away.]

Lys! Just Lys, haha.....I'm not sure I rate a "miss". [Pushing a would-be escapist crab back down into the bucket, she draws her hand back before it can be pinched.] But, you're welcome! I'm just happy I could help.

[This, followed by a polite glance that takes in Ema's sand-dusted clothes and sweat-flushed face.]

Do you wanna rinse off in the ocean, maybe? And I can get these little pinchers ready for the pot.

[ No last name? Maybe Lys is some kind of stage name...?

Ema blinks at Lys's suggestion, head tilting a fraction as she considers it. She's used to getting down and dirty... with science, of course, whenever she has to crawl around in the dirt and mud in pursuit of trace evidence. But changes of clothes and nice hot baths aren't quite as plentiful around here, so taking a quick dunk in the ocean might not be a bad idea. ]

Well, if you don't mind. Just watch this for me, would you?

[ She shrugs off her sandy lab coat, leaving her in a toga. The toga is styled simply except for where it's bunched and knotted at one knee, forming a sort of asymmetrical skirt. Ema folds her coat neatly lengthwise before draping it on Lys wherever it looks convenient, whether it be on an arm or shoulder. ]

The particulate matter in ocean water can be highly corrosive, you know. Wouldn't want to damage my coat. Anyway, I'll be right back.

[ She marches off into the water! She doesn't go too far, seeing as how the ocean looks a tad... uninviting... but she takes a moment to submerge herself and really get the sand off her. She'll come dripping back soon enough, wringing the excess water out of her hair and paying no mind to her state of dress. ]

[she's the circus clown that drank too much milk growing up and now can't fit inside the clown car]

Sure, no problem!

[With all the thoughtless obedience of a literal coat track, Lys catches the garment on her arm, courteously making an honest attempt to shake or brush most of the sand off once Ema's left for a dip in the ocean. Equally courteously, she doesn't admit to understanding maybe one word in three of what Ema says next, and also glances away when Ema comes walking back all wet and dripping.

Because spending X amount of months on a nameless island devoted to kinky sex is no excuse to stare. At least, not without permission. What would her mother think??]

I wish I could loan you some spare clothes, but.....ah, I'm not sure they'd fit.

[Unless Ema wants to wear what would functionally be the equivalent of baggy pajamas, given their height difference....]

Hm? No, that won't be necessary.

[ She'll dry off, it's fine! Especially if there's a fire already going. Ema likes being clean and dry as much as the next person, but a little seawater never hurt anyone. Clothes, on the other hand, are a different story. She flips the length of her hair over her shoulder and moves to pluck her lab coat back.

She doesn't think much of Lys's pointedly averted gaze because she can be, frankly, a little bit of a brickhead when it comes to these things, which bodes well for her stay on this island. Instead, she's thinking about what Lys said. If she has spare clothes, then she probably isn't a newcomer like Ema... ]

Have you been here for very long?

[Surrendering the lab coat without protest, Lys nods acknowledgment and turns to lead the way to a small campfire burning merrily a little farther inland, safely away from the majority of swarming, scuttling crabs.]

Hmm....a couple of months? [Time passes like soup when you spend 70% of your time either sleeping or eating.] Feels like a lot longer, though.

[For a temporary campsite made from driftwood, rocks and scavenged materials, Lys didn't do a half-bad job: there's flat rocks to sit on, a frayed rush mat, even a makeshift stovetop fashioned out of a sheet of metal laid over the fire. Water boiling in a stockpot next to a saucepan filled with simmering, fragrant broth.]

A couple months, is it...?

[ She's still in disbelief that she might have to stay here for as much as a week, let alone months, but every fact points to this island being a real institution (albeit a shoddy one) and not just a setting for some candid camera prank. Great. Just great.

Ema makes herself right at home at Lys's campsite, popping an unceremonious seat on a rock by the fire. She crosses one leg over the other and drops her chin on her hand, the picture of a weary woman. Whatever's cooking smells great, though, and Ema eyes it and the construction of the campsite absently. ]

Well, it certainly seems like you're equipped to adapt. Frequent camper?

[A sympathetic smile at Ema's obvious sulking, almost wide enough to hide a small, fleeting wince. Because in her world, "camping" was something the wealthy elite did for fun, enjoying brief sojourns into the wilderness that were always comfortable and safe. A universe away from aimlessly drifiting across the countryside, fleeing the only home they'd ever known.]

Something like that, yeah. My family's always lived close to the woods, so I spent a lot of time outdoors. By the time I....you know, moved out, I was pretty good at stuff like this.

[It's nothing but the truth, in letter if not in spirit, related with casual ease as Lys carefully drops one crab after another into the boiling pot. Fifteen or so minutes should see them cooked through.]

What about you?

[ Ema catches something else in Lys's smile and the slight hesitation around "moved out," but far be it from her to pry. If there's something the detective life has taught her, it's that everyone has a story. For better or worse, having to delve into the sordid details of so many strangers' lives as an occupation has made her less interested in doing the same in her free time. ]

Me? I'm a city girl. I go on the occasional hike and I know how to start a fire, but that's about my limit.

[ She frowns. Pouts, really. ]

I'll admit I'm completely out of my element here. All this feels crazy enough to make me want to ride out into the ocean on a river of crabs.

The city, huh......wow. That must have been really exciting!

[In a distinctly "Chinese curse" sense of the word, given how Ema hails from Japanifornia: Land of Countless Inexplicable Murders.]

And I could always teach you more stuff like this, if you wanted? Floating out to sea sounds fun and all, but eventually you'd just float right back to shore.

[Using a wide, empty clam shell that's already been meticulously cleaned, Lys gives the saucepan full of broth a few delicate stirs. She would absolutely sound more concerned if she genuinely thought that Ema might try to crab-surf off the island.]

....or maybe later would be better, when everything has a chance to feel less brand new and overwhelming.

[ It's a surprisingly kind offer, coming from someone she just met. Ema would normally be inclined to pass -- she's not sure when she got so allergic to interacting with new people -- but the reality of her situation weighs heavy on her, and there's a good chance she'll have to get creative about her food in the very near future.

She looks at Lys for a moment, trying to read for some kind of ulterior motive. Deciding that there's nothing there but an honest effort to help, she relaxes, a small smile softening her features. ]

I'll have to take you up on that sometime. A professional can never know too much, after all.

[ Immediate survival needs aside, you never know when a murder will happen at some campsite or survivalist's hovel. Anyway, if she's going to accept Lys as her eventual tutor, she should probably introduce herself properly. ]

My name is Ema, by the way. Ema Skye. I might not know much about camping, but I'm your woman if you want to unravel a crime scene. Scientifically, that is.

[She looks right back, a friendly and slightly mystified smile wreathed across her thin face. Wondering why Ema was looking at her like that, what she might be searching for....but too polite to ask. Too used to being stared at, as well. For one reason or another.]

"Ema Skye".....that's a really pretty name! My last name's Skovgaard, but it just means "forest farm". Nothing special.

[She sips at the broth, smacks her lips in a contemplative sort of way, then adds a scattering of what looks like pepper from a tiny canister by the fire. A delicate touch was always best when it came to seasonings, otherwise you could ruin the whole dish. Not that Lys would ever throw away a portion, but it'd just be churlish to try and serve a guest something unpalatable.]

But yeah, I don't mind at all! You're smart, so I bet you'll pick everything up pretty quick.

[A brief glance into the crab pot, gauging how much longer they'll need to boil. A longer glance at Ema, this one sympathetic, before she takes out her guild canteen and holds it out in offering.]

What do you mean by "unraveling a crime scene", though?

[ "Forest farm" does sound pretty mundane, but to her untrained ear, Skovgaard sounds strong. Grounded. The opposite of Skye, really, but Ema doesn't see that as a bad thing.

Also, where are all these compliments coming from?? Maybe it's because she has a tendency to terrorize the people around her at work, but it's been a while since anyone has been so... openly nice to her. Not that she's complaining about it.

Ema takes the offered canteen, briefly inspecting it for any interesting details. With so many strange elements to this place, she finds herself scrutinizing anything she can get her hands on. ]

Why, I mean that I unpack the details of the scene. Scientifically!

[ It bears repeating because! important!! She begins to sparkle a little, gesturing emphatically with one finger. ]

Who committed the crime, when it happened, how the deed was done, what exactly transpired, and so on. The power of forensic science reveals all! We still crack cases that happened as long as twenty years ago, you know!

[It's just an ordinary—if old-fashioned—canteen, a sturdy thing of beaten metal with a leather strap. Vaguely European, and not in a kitschy tourist souvenir way. The water inside is clean and fresh and aphro-free; rainwater, by the taste of it.]

Twenty.....what, really? You're serious?

[Wide-eyed, blankly disbelieving, she stares at Ema as though the older woman had instead started babbling in demonic tongues.]

Why do they....how does someone do that? I thought that kind of thing was all wrapped up in....in....I don't know, three days? They just find the most suspicious guy and toss him in the stocks!

[Getting a little medieval in here, suddenly.]

And....and what's "forensic" mean, anyway?

Edited (minor edits bc I'm a foolish fool) 2020-09-16 01:56 (UTC)

[ Lys's description does sound medieval, but that also happens to be how Japanifornia actually works so womp womp. ]

I'm glad you asked! "Forensic" science refers to any of a set of scientific disciplines dedicated to analyzing evidence for use in a court of law. It's crime-detecting science, in other words. Ballistics, blood splatter, fingerprinting, DNA analysis, fiber analysis -- the list goes on and on!

And with new technology always developing, cold cases get picked back up all the time. Better ways to pick up genetic material, new analytical methods, and so on. Why, there was a recent case where they were able to use a specialized vacuum to suck a killer's DNA right off a rock used as a murder weapon eighteen years prior. Amazing, right? Forensic science knows all in the end! Ahh, it's the science of justice!

[ She takes an exaggerated, satisfied breath and leans back on her rock happily. She needed that hit. ]

[She tries her best to follow along. Really, she does, and nevermind the cost to herself—because what were a few burst blood vessels in her brain if it meant understanding what Ema was so enthusiastically talking about it? Lys can see so much of her brother in that earnest spiel: the animated face, the excited voice, those shining eyes. Watching Ema chatter away is—was like watching Tobias babble on and on about mathematics, her baby brother caught in a frenzy of delight as his brain whirled along at a thousand thoughts per second.

But earnest or not, endearing or not.....brilliant or not, by the end of Ema's explanation she only looks confused, bewildered. More than stunned—overwhelmed. A concussion victim still reeling after being whacked on the head with a two-by-four.]

....what?

[It's said in a very small voice, the clamshell of broth lying forgotten in her hand until it tilts and scalds her wrist.]

—ow! [Hurriedly saving it, she licks at the spot, not missing a drop. ] I mean, what.....what's, um, "ballistics"? You....you kinda lost me after that part.

[ Ema spares a glance for Lys burning herself, but with all the confidence of a terminally uncoordinated person who frequently breaks glass and drops hazardous liquids, she concludes that Lys will be just fine. ]

... Ah. Ballistics is the study of projectiles and firearms. In forensic terms, it usually involves the matching of bullets to the guns they were fired from.

[ Maybe Lys is a little more "countryside" than Ema initially thought. But hey. Science doesn't discriminate, and neither will she. If she has an audience, then by the scientific gods, she will preach. ]

Let me frame things a different way. Thanks to forensic science, almost anything you come into contact with can be traced back to you. When you touch things, you leave behind fingerprints that are uniquely yours. Your hair, blood, and saliva contain tons of biological data. Even the material of your clothes can rub off and form a trail straight to you.

Think of it as... an advanced form of tracking. Only instead of animals, forensic investigators track criminals.

[Her blank look holds out as Ema explains, flat and unchanging as the surface of a frozen lake....but then Ema makes that key comparison, and it's suddenly like spring has arrived, kindling new life and warmth in its wake. Lys leans forward, rapt, too caught up in feeling almost smart for once to be self-conscious of her own expressiveness and excited, gushing tone.]

Oh...oh! Like tracking an animal, yeah! There's so many things you gotta look for when you do that! Blood and scent and footprints in the mud or snow, broken branches and crushed grass....and it's all gone in an hour! Or even less if you're trying to follow the trail in bad weather.

[Now she's looking at Ema with a new and shining kind of respect, and not a little awe.]

You can really find itty bitty traces like that? Drops of blood and bits of hair and scraps from someone's shirt? Even after twenty years?

[ Heehee. All that admiration in Lys's expression. All that appreciation! It is only what the majesty of science deserves, and Ema smiles with approval. She swats her hand in the air flippantly. ]

Even after twenty years. So now you understand the power of forensic science!

[ ....... Of course, the evidence has to be preserved for that entire time, and even then it can get a bit iffy, but listen, it's science, not voodoo magic. ]

One of our most powerful tools is our ability to analyze DNA. That's genetic material — the blueprint that makes you uniquely you. Every drop of blood, strand of hair, and scrape of skin contains DNA that can be matched back to its owner. It's an analytical method that practically defies time!

[ she will keep going on like this if lys doesn't change the topic ]

[Are you KIDDING, this is the first time in forever she's learned something completely new that didn't have an unspoken "you fucking moron" attached to every other sentence. We have to keep going.....for science.]

I don't know about "understanding" it [what a bold claim!] but I definitely think it's amazing!

[She runs a hand through her hair, particularly the rough and choppy strands near the nape that stick up untidily. They're always like that, because Lys is a barbarian that cuts her hair by hacking it off with a sword, and the uneven feel of them makes those examples all the more concrete in her mind.]

How do you....how did they find out about DNA? I've got pretty good eyes, but I don't think I'd be able to tell the difference between a strand of your hair and mine. And blood, well, forget it—human blood looks just like deer or pig blood.

[Taste and scent, not so much, but shhh.]

[ WELL THEN so continues the march down the scientific rabbit hole...

... Sort of. Because as much as Ema loves science, she isn't a huge buff on the history science. Ain't got time for that noise when she could be studying the more practical side of things. She has criminals to catch!! ]

How did they find out? Well... it wasn't any single group of people. One scientist decided to study unknown quantities in the cell nucleus, and happened to isolate DNA through a series of experiments. It took decades and a slew of other scientists to actually figure out what DNA actually was, though. It's so tiny that it was difficult for anyone to know what it was made of, or even what it looked like.

In the modern era, we've developed specialized tests and equipment to break down the exact contents of a person's DNA for analysis. It's very powerful — and very expensive — stuff.

[And......yeah, she's struggling to keep up again. Tripping up on the vocabulary, slowed down by the unfamiliar words that she doesn't have a mental picture for. But the heady rush of discovery, of learning, lingers like the taste of fine wine; it feels like a rusted door inside her mind briefly swinging open, offering a glimpse of something new and fascinating. And now that she has the gist of what Ema's saying, her own intuition helps to pick up the slack.]

So.....they used something like a really powerful telescope? Or one of those fancy one-eyed glasses?

[She's talking about a monocle, though more the kind used by jewelers and tinkerers. Shifting her weight, she glances at the bubbling crab pot again and picks up a smooth driftwood stick she'd scavenged earlier, stirring the contents with it. Still talking, she fishes out a crab, inspecting it with a critical eye.]

Is that what you used back home? When you did forensics?

[ One day Ema will learn that Lys is an actual medieval person. Until then, Lys's questions will just seem very strangely remedial, but we still love and cherish her. ]

Eh. Something like that.

[ Cue sweating as the topic comes dangerously close to Ema admitting that she failed the forensics test and has zero access to a professional crime lab but HEY here's this magnifying glass she's whipping out of her lab coat! Wow! They can talk about this instead! ]

It's like this! But much more powerful, of course. A microscope takes two of more of these specialized lenses and makes them work together to get an even stronger zoom. Telescopes work on a similar principle.

[ Lys is free to take the magnifying glass to play with, if she wants... ]

[Putting the boiled crab down on a flat rock she's carefully cleared of sand—it looks done, ready to be cracked and hollowed out, but just for now, this is more important—Lys eagerly takes the magnifying glass, turning it over in both hands. She handles it with reverence, as though she's just been handed a fascinating treasure; holds one hand under the glass for long moments, examining the callouses along her fingers now thrown into stark relief and unprecedented detail.]

Wow!

[A reverence that abruptly fades when she notices how the weak sunlight filters through the glass in a concentrated beam. Pausing, she glances up at the clouded sky, then down at a small pile of broken driftwood pieces she'd cleared away when setting camp.]

...huh. I wonder if...

[Angling the magnifying glass, she tries to set the driftwood on fire. And fails, because the sunlight isn't anywhere near strong enough to do anything. But points for trying?]

TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

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