The current home of The Offset Parabolan and associates.
Ockham, The Offset Parabolan (any/all)
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There's something odd about Ockham. Ockham seems cordial enough when you meet at a society soirée, or in the crowded lobby after a theatrical performance, even if Ockham seems to say very little. It's not until you get out into the crisp night air that you feel suddenly awake and refreshed, and the haziness of your encounter truly sets in. What were you talking about anyway? Did she say something important? Was it she? Or maybe it was he... you seemed to have known at the time. The longer you think on the encounter, the more nonsensical it seems. What did Ockham even look like? Your memory of him... them(?)... doesn't seem right, like trying to remember a dream... Perhaps it's best not to think about it too hard.
Non-Player characters:
Eleanor Roberts, The Twilit Entrepreneur (she/her)
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She'd spent decades moulding herself into the model Imperial subject, the perfect, respectable English officer, the Commodore's golden boy—his favourite son—rejecting every element of herself that did not fit that ideal. Now that he's dead and she's out the Dawn Machine's hold, she's decided to live her life on her terms. Whilst no one could accuse her of being charismatic, her earnestness goes a long way. Not a woman lightly crossed when interacting in the professional sphere.
Robert "Robin" Jones, The Unassuming Confidante (he/him)
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A diploma from Summerset hangs on his wall, dated from the 80s. A handful of letters of recommendation attest to decades of work history in London, though it’s difficult to parse exactly doing what. Some sort of solicitor? Is this what he does now…? The calling card, listing an address in the Upper River, certainly seems to say so. And he certainly seems friendly enough, a social butterfly, always taking an interest in what you want to talk about. Odd, that he doesn't seem to say much about himself.
Charlotte Pryce, The Relentless Pathfinder (she/her)
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She'd heard rumours that life in London was different than on the surface. That the rules society are different. That one can live as they wish. After her husband's death, she took her kids to the Neath, with hopes for a future of simply more. More for all of them. And in London, she's determined to have it all, regardless of the cost.
Leslie Wells, The Cornish Koloman (they/he)
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A surface time traveller from the year of... 1912. Their attempt to repair their father's broken machine and travel to the dates of his journals backfired, landing him in 1902 and in the Game's crosshairs. After the Coilheart Games, they were convinced to return to the Neath, changing allegiance and slowly continuing work on their time machine. He'll get it right this time, and solve the mystery that sent them down this path in the first place.
Tamara, The Light-Born Preservationist, (she/her)
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A displaced Varchaasi, trying to make a life for herself in London. Formerly shared a townhouse with Ockham, now living with her business partner, Margaret. Her interest in painting and photography has landed her with London's less respectable crowd, involved in production of some of London's more scandalous images.
Margaret Hawes, The Enterprising Gossipmonger (she/her)
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Formerly a Lady's Maid at the Shuttered Palace, a Rube Goldberg string of errors led to her accidental murderer of her boss, The Traitor Empress. Upon escaping New Newgate, she'd taken advantage of her new anti-monarchist contacts to try to pass herself off as a lady herself. Currently, she's working a grift honeytrapping rich society types and sending scandalising photos of them to the newspapers in exchange for a cut of the money they contribute to the Venderbight economy, alongside her photographer partner, Tamara.
Horace (any/all?)
tag
An exceptionally round and fluffy cat. Quite possibly a paid agent of the Game and staunch Liberationist. Quite possibly multiple identical cats answering to the same name who are never seen in the same place.
□□□□□, The Rubbery Barber Surgeon (he/him)
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Trained in the style of the old masters, this butch squid will give you the best haircut and/or shapeling arts procedure you've ever seen. Happily engaged to The Tentacular Surgeoness.
Graham, The Geriatric Geodian (he/him)
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Absolutely just the worst. Graham's been around for longer than the crystals of Grand Geode. He's not even dawnpilled, just respects a fellow hater.
Inez, The Serendipitous Prodigy (she/he)
An engineer in the New Sequence with a talent for uncovering people's deepest secrets, she never seems to realise that any of this classified or protected information is not common.
Henri Reynard, The Alienated Alienist (he/him)
An Upper River alienist and licentiate, with an undeserved reputation as a gothic horror character. He cannot understand how he keeps getting on the wrong foot with so many people.
David Campbell, The Soft-hearted Vicar (he/him)
The former head of a minor Anglican church in London, contented leading his small flock. Now a drownie lurking near Mutton Island.
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Firmament has me thinking about Atlas and French languages (this will be spoiler-free besides the location of chapter 4). Long ramble-y post ahead.
While I assume all the characters are speaking in English, it's canon that Risen Burgundy is a very multilingual place. In the real historical Burgundy, along with a smattering of other things they spoke a langue d'oïl (which is basically a close French ancestor). Since it was in Northern France it's very similar to the modern standard French, as opposed to Occitan in the South, which is much closer to Catalan and was more-or-less swallowed by the aforementioned standard French over the centuries. Very much on-purpose, but that's another conversation.
All that to say, Atlas will always jump at an opportunity to speak French with someone. His life now is saturated in English, and while he's equally proficient in both languages, French was spoken in his childhood and now he rarely gets to use it. He's not a Surface history buff (Neathly history is a whole other story), but he read a lot and certainly has a general awareness of the Burgundians. He absolutely tried to see if his standard French is similar enough to theirs to communicate.
Also I think upon first hearing them speak he had a brief crisis about losing his French comprehension due to so much of the language sounding Weird before realizing 'wait these are medieval people speaking a medieval French'.
Really, depending on how much understanding can be reached he might speak French with the Duchess.
What might one expect from Leopold, Pirate-King of the Isle of Cats: a hulking, grizzled presence with a crimson cat tattooed across his back? An oil-bearded wretch with a brace of pistols strapped to each hip, and eyes like wildfire? A gaunt-cheeked honey-seeker wasted from years of dissolution?
He looks, as it turns out, more like a lawyer than a dissolute lord - though he is at least wearing a robe of patterned-silk over his dark suit. Behind him you see a wall of what you think are wine-racks. On closer inspection, the racks hold bottle upon carefully-labelled bottle of red honey.
and he's in charge of the entire isle of cats & the massive red honey operation over there (Also the garden where twitch comes from.) which is really making twitch getting the pirate king title 1000x more fascinating.
is the pirate king title Still associated with the red honey trade,? was it a title they chose after all that?? i guess i Can 1000% see them taking it on purpose to reclaim it, but also was it just Given to them and they dislike it? is leopold still around? did they kill him???? is he trying to kill them??? i have so much to think about
Still playing around with lineless some more! I wanna put Zouhair in all sorts of coats more often :0c This outfit was taken from the fashion plate at the bottom of this post.
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Staring at the Khangian lights on the harbour, nostalgic for a home you can never return to. A place where you're no longer welcome, where every bridge is burnt, and the person you cared about most is gone.
A queer thing happens when you no longer have the energy to fight yourself... the boundaries that separate you become blurry, bleeding into each other more and more...
... Until one day you realise they're no longer there at all.
-
Reintegration.
I didn't find a great way to throw it on tumblr, but the grief of the Commodore's death was retroactive, and actually hit Nite. Experiencing this incredible amount of hurt and no context as to why was a wake up call for Nite--waging war on Roberts was simply cutting off your own nose to spite your face. And without the dawnlight... Nite is selfish. This feels awful and he doesn't want to experience it. And a Roberts too dulled by that grief to have the energy to notice.
Roberts fun fact--She's able to fall asleep on any size sleeping surface, but regardless of its surface area she will find a way to expand and fill it in her sleep. Expect to wake up on the floor next to your own bed.
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Years of effort, of June's brilliant engineering, of careful planning and execution and they'd finally built it. What it is they'd built, Roberts can't be sure. But it's not up to a lowly midshipman to question. The Commodore surely has a plan, one that Roberts would follow without question. Together, they set sail to the Southwest, to turn on the Machine.
It turns out whether you're running a criminal syndicate or the day-to-day of the Navy, it doesn't stop people from asking you the stupidest questions imaginable.
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Every single interaction with The Overworked Commodore gets funnier and funnier when you assume he just straight up doesn't recognise her. Transitioned that successfully.
