voyagers [OPEN]

[sighsheavily]

🧙 WHO: Cecelia Ardenbury, open
⚔️️ WHAT: open prompts for May -- including passage to the end of the world & the "Holo, Goodbye" quest
🕒 WHEN: May (pre-whatever-the-event)
🗺️ WHERE: Camelot, the end of the world, the road to and from the "Holo, Goodbye" quest area
⚠️ WARNINGS: None in open prompts; marked in comment subjects as needed



o1. camelot: the ambassador's office, under construction
early-early may -- like, before these other prompts ok

Now that she has received all the formal approvals and keys, Cecelia Ardenbury is beginning to set up shop, as it were. It's not the standard for-profit venture, of course, but she still has a job to do -- namely, escorting various members of the fledgling outworlder community to the viewpoint of the calamity far, far to the unreachable north of Avalon. She's given it a few goes around with a small number of people and has decided...she no longer wants to stand in a field to do this. So! Space is acquired.

Next thing to do? Get this small office space into decent shape.

Cecelia can be found during these early, early days of May sweeping out the interior, wiping down the front window, finagling with drapes, struggling with furniture... all tasks she's passable at (for the most part), but certainly leave plenty of room for helping hands, should one be so inclined!

Of course, when her ears pick up footsteps drawing near enough to her, she'll call over her shoulder in the middle of whatever chore:

"Yes, good day, sorry--no ferrying service today. Not yet, thank you. Unless you are another solicitor? In which case, not ever, no thank you."




o2. camelot: the ambassador's office, open for business

Once things are more or less in working order, some signage has been posted at the window just beside the 'OPEN' sign:

OUTWORLDER AMBASSADOR
C. ARDENBURY
CALAMITY BUSINESS ONLY

She's hoping to get something a bet more formal and final etched out atop the door, but...it'll do. Hopefully; she's not sure about window shoppers are in this part of town, so she's really just rolling the dice to see whether or not she needs to be more specific or not.

In any case, should one venture inside, they are first greeted by the gentle tinkling of a crystal bell over the door. Inside is simple, but tastefully furnished: Comfortable chairs face each other by the window, with a small tea table between them adorned with lace and some flowers. A writing desk rests beside a bare wall, and upon it is a leather-bound ledger, accompanied by quill and inkwell. A small sign just above the desk requests for guests to sign in, be they walk-ins or coming with an appointment. Names and dates. It's just good bookkeeping!

At the furthest end of the room, just before the doorway to somewhere unknown, is a more robust desk and chair -- Cecelia's workstation, somewhat reminiscent of, say, something Ebenezer Scrooge would've worked at in chillier times. She's not currently at that desk, but that little bell's sound carries, and she can be heard from behind the door:

"Sign in at the right, please! I will be with you in just a moment."




o3. the road northwest (holo, goodbye)

As important as her ambassador work, is Cecelia also needs to make actual coin to survive. It's why she's rented a horse and is currently riding one of the farm roads out toward the river to respond to the request for glittering stones. It's...innocuous enough a request, she supposes, and the outdoors gives her chance to play around with her magic development along the way, and the slow, easy pace she sets for herself leaves her plenty of time for that.

...And plenty of time to be beset by wild animals at some point, too.

So it is that at this particular junction of the journey, she's trying to calm her horse, as the sound of wolves has spooked it. She's ridden horses before, but she's not what anyone could call a master rider, so she's actually having a really hard time here!

"Peace, please!" she cries, pulling on the reins and ducking a little, fearful that the beast will try to buck her off. Instead, it seems to be ready to bolt regardless of her whims. With a scream, Cecelia finds her on a runaway horse. Help???




o4. the riverbank (holo, goodbye)

Harrowing horse problems aside, this little quest is starting to wind down and be something far less life-threatening, but...

But maybe she should've brought a gold mining pan? The glittering of the water's surface, beautiful and ethereal as it is in the twilight hours, means Cecelia finds herself plucking just as many simple stones as she does the shimmering trinkets she needs to finish this job. Her eyes gleam and reflect some of the water near her feet for a time before she gets the idea to exercise some of her power to push some of the water away from the bank and give her a chance to sift through the stones that remain and set them in her basket.

Diverting her attention like this is good exercise, but also exhausting, compounded with all the work she's done teleporting people. After a few minutes, she straightens back up, wiping her brow, craning her head up to peer at the array of starlight starting to appear as the sky darkens -- stars still and silent as the calamity itself.

Comments

01

[trueltning_fury]

Honestly, he wasn't even looking for the shop on purpose. Geddoe spent most of his quieter days familiarizing himself with the layout of the town, so that anything even slightly out of place would become obvious when it was important. With the door partially open, he felt the pull to lean in and look to see why, stopping only because he did in fact recognize that striking person from the phone. Clearly with her hands full, no less.

He cleared his throat and idly asked, "Need a hand, there?" He would make a good heavy lifter, if a terrible decorator.

[sighsheavily]

Well, that is not the offer for another damn subscription or food service. Cecelia exhales in a huff, straightening up from her efforts to get a piece of a writing desk in through the door by herself -- not something she's well equipped to doing herself, given her state of dress and...the fact that even after all these centuries, strength is still her dump-stat.

After wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she turns and sees a very...unkempt, older man. He looks a sight more appropriate to the side of the road than meandering a city of this make -- very vagabond, very rangery.

"I do indeed, actually," she affirms, her hand dropping away to gesture to her work. "I'm not much for heavy lifting, you see."

[trueltning_fury]

Geddoe invites himself in at that, making sure his sword doesn't bang against the door frame as he does. "Clearly. Well, I happen to have some free time here, so..."

If his voice isn't recognizable, he'll introduce himself again in a moment. First, he has to scope out the desk situation, make sure it's not wedged anywhere and then determine which side to pick up and maneuver. "Where do you want it - in there?"

02

[forgeabettertomorrow]

Darin looked around the 'shop' with considerable interest. Did he sign in or heed her instruction to do so? Of course he didn't. He's far too bust poking around.

He picks up one of the tea cups and eyes it; it looks tiny in his big, goofy hands.

"You know, I never would have pegged you for a ferry person. But...still. This is really nice. Quaint. Kind of out of the way, though."

[sighsheavily]

The voice she hears gives her pause and keeps her from entering the main room for a beat longer than she intends. After a moment, however, she does appear, moving briskly as if to make up for that little gap of time that being caught unawares caused.

"If this were a matter of boats, I would assure you I am not," she says curtly, moving to her desk to pick through some stray papers and folders. "But in this case, it suits me well enough, and I hesitate to even ask what sort of thing you would have pegged me for, as you say."

While lifting up one of the folders, eyes fixed on it. "Good day. What is it you need, then? Are you going to be booking an appointment?"

[forgeabettertomorrow]

You know what, he's going to tell her what he pegged her for anyway.

"I could totally see you as a librarian. Someone who keeps ancient tomes and is strict but there's something about you that's just as mystifying and enchanting as the knowledge you safeguard."

He cranes his head to look into the room she'd entered from.

"An appointment? I need one of those? I thought you wanted me to see this 'Calamity' something or other."

02

[scension]

Sagi is already halfway through writing his name in the ledger when he hears Cecelia's voice from the other room. In lieu of shouting back, he allows himself a small sigh of relief. He's early for the low-priority appointment Miss Ardenbury happened to send a text to his AOL account about - a little too early to be fashionable, in the manner of someone who knew he'd get sidetracked somehow if he tried to be exactly on time - but it sounds like he didn't miss her. (No pun intended.)

After carefully returning the quill pen to its inkwell the way he found it, he settles down in the closest chair. He doesn't mind waiting. Honestly, the longer he has to wait, the less he'll feel like he's interrupting her actual work for a purely selfish reason, or several selfish reasons.

In theory, he doesn't mind waiting in silence, either. In practice... the street outside the window is quiet right now, nothing but the pitter-patter of drizzle outside, and his train of thought begins to wander as he looks around the room. In keeping with the bad habit he's had since he was little, it wanders all the way out of his mouth.

"It's springier than it looks," he comments to no one, barely quieter than he would be in a normal conversation, gently pressing his palm into the armrest that nobody asked him to evaluate. "The orphanage kids would do a number on a chair like this."

It's not long before he speaks up again, this time sounding a shade more exasperated, again at no one. "We're not going to take a flower," he says. "Don't be a thief. We don't even have anywhere to put it."

The intermittent bouts of spontaneous commentary are liable to just keep going if he's left alone. In between them, he waits patiently in the armchair, seemingly oblivious to his own babbling, staring down at his feet.

[sighsheavily]

Much of Sagi's half-audible dialogue goes unnoticed while Cecelia is busy in the back room, but she does catch the tail-end of some mumbling when she does surface, closing the door behind her and already making a bee line for her own desk.

"Good day, I will be--ah."

She stops her bustle when she sees who it is, looking for a beat before nodding, recollection catching up to her.

"Well met once again, vermin-catcher. Did you sign in?"

[scension]

Sagi looks up when the door opens, causing whatever internal conversation he was holding to instantly vanish into the ether. He greets Cecelia with his default expression, a polite smile. "Yes, I wrote my name down. It's Sagi."

Which is exactly the name he wrote, plus today's date and the time he read off his phone; people don't put much stock in family names where he's from. The wording could have made for a pointed remark, but there's no trace of that in his voice. He's never particularly cared what other people call him.

He gets up out of the chair - there may still be a faint handprint on the armrest after he impulsively pressed it a little harder, don't mind that - and walks briskly to the front of the desk. Best not to waste her time now that she's here.

"You said you had time for an appointment today," he says, helpfully.

02

[patchricide]

Hey, Cecelia, have you ever actually seen how Allura's name is written? Because that's what has been added to your log of visitors... well, probably. It's a line of alien symbols, a mixture of gentle curves and harsh angles with a scattering of little circles throughout, lightly smudged in a way that makes it doubtful that they were supposed to be written with this sort of writing instrument. No translation is provided, so there might be a title in there, or a family name. Who knows, save for Allura herself?

But, satisfied with how she's added her name to this collection, Allura replaces the quill into the inkwell, and calls back to Cecelia, "Oh, no hurry! Please take your time."

Because she's also going to be taking her time, using this opportunity to take a good look at what Cecelia has set up for herself. Whether or not it's still a work in progress, Allura's impressed simply for the fact that Cecelia set it up herself, from the very beginning to its current incarnation. It's a testament to what kind of opportunities one could make for themselves with the right mindset — and sparks the imagination with ideas of what else could be achieved.

[sighsheavily]

That voice is Allura's, isn't it?

Funny, Cecelia has more memories of it obscured by doors and walls than up-front, given how cagey she'd been growing up. Egads, she was an embarrassing mess then...it's honestly a blessing the Altean doesn't recall or even straight-up know her; the fewer people to bear that kind of burden of recollection, the better.

Still, hearing the familiar voice does prompt her to hasten with what she'd been doing -- rewriting some spell runes in chalk on the floor of the windowless back room. It may prove to be futile in the end, but the hope it brings is something of merit to her. That said...

"Apologies for the delay. Good day." She does appear in short order, closing the door behind her and giving a polite nod.

"I assume you're here to be conveyed to the calamity, yes?"

[patchricide]

By the time Cecelia comes out, Allura has found herself a seat in one of those comfortable chairs, holding a small rectangular bag on her lap stiltedly, like someone who doesn't normally carry a bag and doesn't realize you can just set it down beside the chair or hang it off the back. It's a little tacky, too, with one section featuring a shiny vinyl fabric patterned with holographic stars that's meant to appeal to girls still in grade school — and which is better than a DNA test in verifying that this is absolutely the same Allura, if the younger Cecelia had noticed the woman's soft spot for similarly gaudy things.

She looks up at the other woman's voice, and though she gives a nod in affirmation, the first thing out of her voice is a polite concession: "If it's possible without an appointment, then yes, I would like to see it for myself. Otherwise, I don't mind booking an appointment for another time."

As she rises from the seat, she continues, "Besides, that wasn't my main reason for stopping by! I wanted to come and see your business for myself, and to learn more about it."

02

[colchismagecraft]

Caster looked...well, about as suspicious in person as she had on the video. Evidently the warmer weather had done nothing to curb her needing to look like an evil witch, despite the fact that she wanted to see the end of the world herself.

"Ah- yes, of course."

As requested, she'll sign in and take a seat. She doubted that Miss Ardenbury would trust her with this at all, especially when she all but admitted that her motivations were selfish- but maybe she would at least hear her out.

[sighsheavily]

Look, at least she has the good sense to not come here covered or reeking of blood or some nonsense and completely ruin any good-faith impressions she could leave! Cecelia's not unfamiliar with the hooded sorts, and not all come with ill intentions...

Just most of them.

It paints a tone, see.

In any case, the tone is indeed painted when Cecelia emerges from the back room to see who has come to visit, and she does briefly arch an eyebrow before she can recall having seen that attire before. Again -- not unfamiliar, lots of hoods in her history, etc. etc....

"Good day," she says, walking up and stopping a few steps shy of the chairs and table. She folds her hands in front of her politely. "How may I assist you?"

[colchismagecraft]

Caster is used to painting a tone. The world had deemed her a witch a long time ago- why try and present herself any other way.

"Good day...we spoke over the network the other day, my name is Caster," she wasn't sure if Miss Ardenbury would remember her- Caster imagined she'd had a lot of people call her since she put out the announcement. "I wished to discuss the Bounded Field at the edge of Avalon."

2

[cameprepared]

"Sure."

Yes, this is way, way more elaborate than anything Claire had imagined, but she has to admit Cecelia has a flare for the theatrical. Or at least she comes off that way. Familiar following in her wake, Claire moves to the sign in sheet and adds her name with a little flourish at the end.

And then she'll sit and wait, of course.

[sighsheavily]

She doesn't have to wait long before Cecelia emerges, still wiping her hands on a simple cloth that she folds up and sets on a free corner of her desk with a sigh. That done, her attention snaps toward the front of the room and to Claire herself, eyes showing sign of recognition before she moves over, stopping a few feet away to nod in greeting.

"Good day," she says. "I take it you're prepared? Gathered what tools of study or recording you wished to bring?"

02

[dragongrrl]

Barbara made sure to bring her moogle with her on this trip to town; she didn't know where a magical creature learned to read, but he'd obviously spent more time on the skill than she'd been able to herself. Once he'd located the correct sign, Barbara stepped in and looked around--another very unfamiliar sort of place, very neat, and to her eyes, fancy. But it certainly seemed to accord with Ardenbury's personality.

"Oh! What a charming space, kupo!" The moogle flitted around, admiring the flowers on the tea-table as Barbara took up the quill and laboriously applied herself to writing out her name.

"Ardenbury! Barbara here."

[sighsheavily]

Ah, that voice is hard to mistake. And the grammar... Cecelia tries not to judge too harshly, but she can't really help her impulse reactions, can she? Thankfully, any wincing she may do is done behind closed doors and quickly buried behind a curtain of neutrality that follows her out into the front room.

"Good day, Barbara," she calls, closing the door behind her. "I trust you are well and prepared and--"

What the hell is that thing floating around. She squints at it sharply, not immediately pegging it for a familiar.

"...Is this a companion of yours?"

3

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga blows a sharp whistle with his fingers in his mouth, and with startling recklessness, just grabs the reins of the horse from his standing position on the road, and throws out an arm to catch the woman, like he's done this a hundred times.

Spoilers: he kind of has. Although usually it's a lot more fighting from horseback, and slaying those on horses, but why quibble?

"Hey now." That's to the horse. His oni (only slightly bigger than Oda, but still more outwardly terrifying!) moves up ahead on the road to block the horse, and help Oda keep it from bolting until he can calm it down.

Um, this might seem like a bandit assault, but he swears it's not!

[sighsheavily]

Were these far less harrowing circumstances, perhaps Cecelia would find it a bit thrilling to be swept up into the arms of a handsome, albeit scruffy-looking stranger? And maybe if she were a few centuries younger and still on her romance novel kick...

As it stands, however, she's in the midst of being tossed, and in no position to fawn. Mostly she just yelps in fear for her life as she is suddenly no longer horsed but also not entirely on her own feet, and it does take a moment for her to come to terms with enough of her status to be able to look up and over her shoulder.

"Oh-! Oh, gads, I--thank you?" Maybe? Is this a situation to be thankful in? Jury's still out, horse is still huffing unhappily, and when Cecelia looks back she can kind of see why, because that...that other creature...!

Cecelia lets out an exclamation in another language that is very much a swear.

yet another 02

[impostorsyndrome]

Oh wow. It feels like it's been a recurring theme of his time in Camelot, or maybe even of his entire life, that Kadoc walks into something strange and serious only to be greeted with a scene that's uncannily ordinary. This is one of those moments. It's tempting to lean right back out the door and double check that sign, make absolutely sure it really did say "Calamity Business Only" and not "Antique Watch Repair."

But just then Cecelia's voice rings out, and it's unmistakable that yes, this is where he meant to show up today. His lips twitch as he heads over to sign in where he was told to. He wouldn't dream of defying a professional setup like this.

As he does that, he calls out,

"I feel like I'm here to talk to you about my insurance policy or some crap. Maybe that's not a bad idea, considering."

never 2 many toos

[sighsheavily]

Insurance? What on earth is that voice talking about? Cecelia stops what she's working on for a brief moment, hastening to finish up before appearing at last, still dusting her hands off with a cloth as her eyes sharpen and scan around for--

"Ah."

The tired-eyed, hungry boy from the road. That's her most prominent impression of him, and that's the one that comes to mind fastest, even though they had spoken since.

"Good day, young man," she greets, giving him a nod, her tone light. "I can't say I understand why you'd come to such a conclusion, but I'll just assume you meant nothing too demeaning by it."

There's something about the way her eyes don't wholly smile that emphasizes a little or else that goes unspoken.

02

[faithfulson]

Luke hesitated as the bell rang above him, poking his head in and peering up, before jumping slightly at the familiar voice. He shuffled inside a little more, peering around for sight of her.

"Cecelia?" he asked softly, before glancing in the indicated direction, going over to sign in as she requested.

[sighsheavily]

"Miss Ardenbury," she corrects, not bothering to hide the sharpness in her tone as she appears hastily, tossing a rag onto her desk as she appears, closing the door behind her. "Good day, Luke. I take it I hardly need to ask what has brought you here so swiftly after word was sent I was here, mm?"